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'If then, amid the many opinions
about the gods and the generations of the universe, we are not able
to give notions which are altogether and in every aspect exact and consistent
with one another, do not be surprised. Enough, if we adduce probabilities
as likely as any other'
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My intention in this site has been to uncover the way in which traditions
of spiritual thought all find their original inspiration in the patterning
that the human imagination discerns in the cycles of the stars. Hopefully
the 'probabilities' as Plato calls them, which I have adduced here
are certainly up to his required standard. I hope I have put forward
a convincing enough argument to suggest that the consistency is of
such an order as to make them in fact far more likely than almost
any others.
Amongst the 'many opinions about the generation of the universe'
that we have seen, one fundamental spiritual image emerges, that of
the severance of Heaven and Earth. This image has been shown to have
its origin in the recognition of the Precession of the Equinoxes,
the understanding of the dynamic interaction of the 'terrestrial'
and 'celestial' spheres.
Gradual though it may have been, this recognition transformed the
notion of the relationship which is said to have existed previously
between the occupants of these two spheres, between Men and Gods.
More than anything else it was this transformed relationship which
supplied the architecture for the phenomenon that we experience as
meaning. For the traditions which Plato inherited, even the Creation
itself was to be regarded as a product of the this generative division.
The familiar concepts of sin, of redemption, of the soul and its immortality
have likewise been derived from this model. We have also seen how
the most fundamental structures of traditional societies are representations
of these notions. In short, it was the recognition of the phenomenon
of the precession that laid down the fundamental architecture of the
human spirit.
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Today, the view through the kaleidoscope of human observation is once
again causing the patterns of cosmology to shift, to expand into a much
vaster perspective. Through the language of mathematics and astronomy
during our lifetimes we have seen new patterns emerge whose significance
is as great, if not greater than that felt by the Ancients who first
watched the Cycle of the Precession alter their notion of the universal
for ever. Anyone who has attempted to read a new sense of meaning into
this shifting cosmos must still be reeling. Scientists, almost unwittingly,
have been forced to stray into the symbolic world of the spiritual for
a suitable language and imagery for their narrative. Seldom have we
been in such great need and yet so distressingly short of poets with
the creative power to proclaim and to celebrate the manner in which
humanity itself is bound into these patterns.
One thing, however, we can be confident of and that is that the notion
of Severance, which has characterised the human spirit throughout the
era considered in this book, is now of little relevance. And if we are
no longer entitled to regard the duality of Heaven and Earth as the
fundamental determinant of the nature of the Cosmos, then we must also
consign to the realm of nostalgia such notions as Creation, Sin and
Redemption which derive from it. Even the immortal soul as we now understand
it has no place in the new Cosmos.
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For the Zoroastrians, the duality of the universe which ensued from
the discovery of the imperfections of Creation, the rivalry of the divided
heavens, was expressed as the confrontation between Love and Strife.
Love was seen as the power which ordered and united, Strife as the power
which disordered and dissolved, and whose weapon was the 'ignorance
of the right order of things'.
If in the face of the contemporary Cosmos we introduce Love as the
mythic image of relatedness, then Strife (the quality which in other
times we might have called 'Evil') becomes truly the result of 'the
ignorance of the right order of things', the kind of response to the
universe which arises when personal experience, for whatever reason,
never confirms any sensation of relatedness. The spirit faced with the
collapse of the traditional cosmos is all too prone to fall prey to
the power of Strife, to see in the universe only decay, disorder and
disruption and to reverberate with that sense of dissolution. This is
the ultimate expression of isolation; of desolation; a spirit without
any sense of pattern.
To avoid such a fate, Plato's advice is that we thoroughly learn the
Circuits of the All. For Plato this All was limited to the cosmos of
his day, bounded by the limits of human vision. For us the cosmos has
limits which are constantly receding in both Space and Time. It is to
this vast expanding All that should Plato's advice must be applied.
The task is perhaps no greater than that encompassed by those ancient
poets who, faced with the dissolution of an earlier myth, rebuilt the
Architecture of the Spirit.
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