Today I came across a passage in Robert Saltzman’s book, Depending on no-thing, that reminded me of how I ended my book about the teachings of Plotinus, a 3rd century mystic Greek philosopher, Return to the One. Saltzman wrote in reply to a question from someone:
You seem to imagine that suggestion as “negative.” I don’t see it that way, although it is related to the so-called via negativa, the traditional process of neti neti [not this, not that].
If someone actually wants to awake — many more say they do than actually mean it — that begins, in my experience, not by learning and acquiring, but by discarding and becoming naked, alone, unprotected, uncertain, and open.
The word “negative” has in general speech a negative connotation. Being “positive” seems strong and “can-do.” Compared to that, “negative” seems weak and downbeat. But weak and downbeat is not the connotation of the term via negativa. Here, it does not mean weaker or lesser — not at all.
It means open-minded, not always looking to glom onto explanations, willing to assess ideas skeptically without smearing a bunch of power and respect on them like maple syrup on a pancake.
One of Plotinus’ sayings was “the flight of the alone to the Alone,” that capitalized Alone referring to the highest reach of reality, the ineffable One.
When I finished writing the substantive quasi- (very quasi) scholarly part of Return to the One. I felt that something was missing. The notion of being Stuck at Lake Partway came to mind. So I wrote a 5 1/4 page analogy of sorts that summed up in a story fashion how I looked upon the teachings of Plotinus. You can read Stuck at Lake Partway via this PDF document.
Stuck at Lake Partway
A passage from Plotinus’ Enneads concludes Stuck at Lake Partway.
And the attainment of it [the One] is for those who go up to the higher world and are converted and strip off what we put on in our descent. . . .until, passing in the ascent all that is alien to the God, one sees with one’s self alone That alone, simple, single and pure, from which all depends and to which all look and are and live and think: for it is cause of life and mind and being.
These days, compared to some 25 years ago when I was writing Return to the One, I don’t use “God” or “One” to describe ultimate reality. For me, as for Saltzman, there is just the reality of this world. It is what it is, and we’re part of it. We didn’t descend from a higher realm, so we don’t need to return there.
Still, I find something of value in the image of being Stuck at Lake Partway. For while there’s something to be said for moderation, there’s also something appealing about going full-bore, leaving it all on the field (a sports saying), giving it 100%, and similar admonitions to do our best by not holding anything back.
When I was a religious believer — studying Plotinus helped me start edging away from this — I didn’t want to be a partway person. That’s why I could be almost moved to tears by the ending of Stuck at Lake Partway; the story reflected my own frustration at wanting to soar to the spiritual heights, but never getting there.
Now I realize that there was no there to get to.
So giving it my all takes on a different complexion. I want to be a single-minded atheist. I don’t want vestiges of religiosity to creep back into my psyche. Meaning, while before I didn’t want to be stuck partway between godless materialism and the glory of God/One, now I don’t want to be stuck partway between a full embrace of godless materialism and a diluted version that includes some questionable beliefs (for example, while I enjoy reciting Buddhist’y sayings like “May all be happy,” I’m wary of making this into a sort of prayer rather than a simple wish).
Everybody is entitled to their own beliefs. And to their own non-beliefs, just as I can view Tai Chi as something I want to do, and golf as something I don’t want to do (any more). Others have the opposite perspective. That’s great. Each to their own. And that “own” doesn’t have to be pursued with the sort of commitment I wrote about in Stuck at Lake Partway. It’s just another option. Partway can be just fine. I just tend to often enjoy full-bore involvement.
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Sounds a bit like the Lord of the Rings Gandolf. But you’ll never be enlightened by just reading so don’t do it for that reason. Most of everything is superstition anyway as many people here would say. I might be going to hell in a handbasket but at least I’m enjoying the ride.
There is no where to go when you don’t see anything.
But there is a “where” and that is everything your mind conceptualizes and everything your mind has no perception or idea of, but which is there and supports all you do see.
You are at a distance from all that. And the distance reflects the level of conceptual thinking, how it is conditioned, twisted by the past and by biochemistry, and the environment. We are responding to our environment all the time, mostly unconsciously. We perceive, and the brain responds, often before informing us, and often without informing us at all.
So that is the ever-present distance. If we want to know something as it is, and not as we are, then there is the journey from us to them.
And that journey leads to a cliff, of sorts. A cliff where mind cannot take us further, because mind is a xerox copier. It can only generate copied images, badly edited for what it thinks we want or need. That’s all old programming. And that stands between us and reality.
So, when you are stripping away every false thing, that can only be conceptual. At some point concept becomes the false thing and that needs to go also.
That is where spiritual meditation comes in. The hypothesis of Spirit is that there is a truth beyond mind. We know this even in concept. We know we are only seeing our mental maya creations and that reality is always separate. Mind, that helps us navigate this world, that helps us determine fact from fiction, is also the source of duality.
But what can take us from here to there? Spirit. Something beyond ourselves that we can cling to, hold to, that will help our wakeful conscious self to move separately from the house of mirrors called mind. Mind only knows mind. Mind can only explain things as mind!
Spirit is something else, and the theory of Spirit is that we can transcend mind through spiritual meditation, and then mind, informed from that experience, sees things quite differently. It is informed from a finer set of sensory information, and experiences, largely within meditation, but which becomes our waking awareness.
For that, you can’t raise yourself by your own mental bootstraps. For that you need help. Hence, the spirit, and a teacher, a Son Of God in the flesh. Philo, the early Jewish / Greek philosopher, 100 years before Christ walked the earth, described the Holy Spirit, or Memra as “The Only Son Of God.” That element, experienced within, helps us shed false beliefs, indeed all beliefs. That is the One that ties it all together, and transcends. And attached to that, we transcend.
Then everything of mind is all “Not This, Not That”…and Truth, knowing Truth, is nothing mind can conceive.
Now here is a great example of where AI improves our thinking. I asked ChatGPT whether the statement I’d written above about Philo and the Holy Spirit was true. Here is Chat’s exceptionally helpful answer:
I asked Chat:
‘Philo, the early Jewish / Greek philosopher, 100 years before Christ walked the earth, described the Holy Spirit, or Memra as “The Only Son Of God.” Is that true?’
Chat’s Answer:
Short answer: not exactly — but there is a real and interesting connection that often gets overstated.
Here’s the careful, historically accurate version.
Who Philo was (briefly)
Philo of Alexandria (c. 20 BCE – 50 CE) was a Hellenistic Jewish philosopher who tried to harmonize Hebrew Scripture with Greek philosophy, especially Plato and the Stoics. He wrote in Greek and was deeply influential—later for Christian theologians, even though he himself was not Christian.
What Philo actually taught
1. Logos, not “Holy Spirit” as such
Philo’s key concept is the Logos (λόγος), not the Holy Spirit (Pneuma).
The Logos is God’s reason, word, mediator, and ordering principle
It bridges the transcendent God and the material world
It is not a separate divine person in Philo’s system
The Holy Spirit (Pneuma) appears in Philo, but it does not play the central metaphysical role that Logos does.
2. “Firstborn Son of God” — yes, Philo does say this
Philo does call the Logos:
“The Firstborn of God”
“The Eldest Son”
“God’s Image”
“Second God” (δεύτερος θεός — very cautiously, and not as a rival deity)
Key passages:
On the Confusion of Tongues §146
On Dreams 1.215
Questions and Answers on Genesis 2.62
So the phrase “Son of God” is genuinely Philonic.
3. “Only Son of God” — this is where precision matters
Philo does not consistently or formally teach the Logos as “the Only Son of God” in the later Christian sense (monogenēs).
He sometimes uses “firstborn”, not “only begotten”
When “only” language appears, it is metaphorical, not doctrinal
There is no incarnation, no suffering Logos, no redemption through death
Christian theology later tightens and personalizes this language in ways Philo never does.
4. Memra ≠ Logos (though they overlap)
Memra (“Word”) is an Aramaic rabbinic concept, mostly found in the Targums.
It functions as a reverent circumlocution for God acting in the world
Philo does not use the term “Memra”
But Logos and Memra overlap conceptually
Later Christian writers often retrofit Memra language onto Philo, which leads to confusion.
Why Christians care so much about Philo
Because John 1 sounds very Philonic:
“In the beginning was the Word (Logos)…
and the Word was with God…
and the Word became flesh.”
Early Church Fathers (Justin Martyr, Clement, Origen) saw Philo as:
A providential bridge
Not a Christian, but a conceptual forerunner
Bottom line (plain English)
✅ Yes — Philo calls the Logos the Son of God and Firstborn
❌ No — he does not clearly teach an “Only Son of God” doctrine
❌ No — he does not identify Logos with the Holy Spirit
❌ No — he does not anticipate the incarnation
Philo supplies the vocabulary, not the theology.”
Regarding negativity, Saltzman points out that: “It means open-minded, not always looking to glom onto explanations, willing to assess ideas skeptically without smearing a bunch of power and respect on them like maple syrup on a pancake”. And, “Blind belief in authority is the greatest enemy of truth,” As Albert Einstein said.
I understand that sometimes negativity can be desirable and/or sensible. Seeing the dangers of an action: doubting what someone tells you (I’m thinking politician here, or what some spiritual ‘authority’ says.) There are many instances when what seems like negativity can really be quite positive and apt.
It’s heartening that Brian can now say: – “These days, compared to some 25 years ago when I was writing Return to the One, I don’t use “God” or “One” to describe ultimate reality. For me, as for Saltzman, there is just the reality of this world. It is what it is, and we’re part of it. We didn’t descend from a higher realm, so we don’t need to return there.”
That is an entirely honest position to take. People often abandon the everyday reality of just being for promises of a spiritual explanation that offers security and certitude. Such offers are difficult to resist, particularly as we are inculcated with such ideas from birth. Even if we reject our early indoctrination, more often than not, we gravitate to some more seemingly attractive teaching that appeals to our current mental state.
To accept, or rather see that this life we are continually being presented with in every moment is all that we can honestly say is, then perhaps we are then able to embrace who and what we are, as we are, without adding a whole barrage of other people’s so-called spiritual truths.
But sadly, we often prefer our (or other people’s) delusions, devising a multitude of avoidance strategies to stay in our comfortable mind-created worlds.