Plotino - Tratado 28,8 (IV, 4, 8) — Os astros (2)

8. No hay necesidad, sin embargo, de conservar en la memoria [mneme] todo lo que se ve, ni de confiar a la imaginación [phantasia] todas las circunstancias que rodean la visión. Si un objeto es más claro para la inteligencia [noesis] que para los sentidos, no hay por qué, para el caso de que ese objeto se realice en el mundo sensible, prescindir de su conocimiento intelectual para fiarlo todo al conocimiento de los sentidos, salvo que se trate de gobernarlo o de dirigirlo. Porque, evidentemente, en el conocimiento del todo está comprendido ya el de los seres particulares.

Deseo hablar de cada uno de estos tres casos. En primer lugar, no es necesario retener en la memoria todo lo que se ve. Cuando no se aprecia diferencia alguna entre los objetos, o cuando las sensaciones se producen involuntariamente por objetos que no cuentan en absoluto para el alma, entonces es el sentido el único que experimente las diferencias, sin que el alma tenga que recibirlas para nada, puesto que ni le son necesarias, ni le prestan utilidad alguna. Así, el alma que dirige su atención a otros objetos no retiene en la memoria la impresión de las cosas pasadas, dado que ni siquiera las percibe cuando ellas existen.

En segundo lugar, no es necesario mantener en la imaginación todo lo que es accesorio en la percepción, y ni siquiera se necesita conservar una imagen de ello. Dichas impresiones no producen conciencia alguna. Lo cual se comprenderá fácilmente si se presta atención a lo que voy a decir. Si al cambiar de lugar, o mejor, al atravesar un lugar, cortamos una y otra región del aire, sin que nunca hubiésemos pensado hacerlo, no conservaremos de esto el menor recuerdo, ni nos habrá preocupado en absoluto durante la marcha. Porque, si en un viaje no hemos pensado para nada en la distancia a recorrer, y, aun en el caso de que se nos llevase por el aire, no nos ofrece preocupación el estadio en el que nos encontramos o cuánto camino hemos recorrido ; si, en fin, conviene que nos movamos, no durante un determinado tiempo, sino simplemente que nos movamos, o incluso que realicemos cualquier otra acción, pero sin referirla al tiempo, es indudable que no conservaremos en la memoria el recuerdo de los distintos tiempos. Es claro que si tenemos la idea conjunta de algo que hemos de hacer, y si creemos además que este acto se cumplirá absolutamente según esa idea, no prestaremos atención alguna al resto de los detalles. Ciertamente, cuando se hace siempre lo mismo, en vano conservaremos el recuerdo de lo que hacemos, que será igual en todo momento.

Si, pues, los astros se mueven para cumplir el fin que les es propio y no para atravesar los lugares que ellos atraviesan; si su acción, además, no consiste en observar los lugares por donde pasan, ni aun en pasar por ellos, el tránsito a que ahora nos referimos es completamente accidental, dirigiéndose, en cambio, el pensamiento de los astros hacia cosas más importantes para ellos; con lo que los espacios recorridos, que son siempre los mismos, y el tiempo empleado en éstos, no entra para nada en su cuenta, incluso si los espacios y los tiempos pueden ser divididos. Se sigue de aquí que no es necesario que tengan el recuerdo de esos espacios y de esos tiempos, ya que disponen siempre de la misma vida y efectúan su movimiento local alrededor de un mismo centro, no ya como si se tratase de un movimiento local sino más bien de un movimiento vital; esto es, cual el movimiento de un ser animado y único que sólo actúa con relación a sí mismo y permanece inmóvil con respecto a lo que le es externo, manteniéndose a la vez en movimiento por la vida eterna que se da en él. Ciertamente, si quisiésemos comparar el movimiento de los astros al que realiza un coro veríamos que, aunque el coro se detenga en un determinado momento, la danza sólo queda concluida si ha sido ya ejecutada desde el principio hasta el fin. Pero supongamos que el coro danza siempre; entonces su danza se concluye a cada instante, y no hay tiempo ni lugar en el que pueda decirse que está terminada. De modo que no tendrá ningún deseo, ni podrá a la vez medir su danza en el tiempo y en el espacio, o, lo que es lo mismo, perderá la memoria de todo esto.

Por lo demás, los astros viven una vida completamente feliz y contemplan esta misma vida por medio de sus almas. Y así, por la inclinación de estas almas a la unidad y por el resplandor de los astros que ilumina el cielo todo, aquellos son como cuerdas de una lira que vibran acompasadamente y que interpretan una melodía llena de armoniosa naturalidad. Si éste es el movimiento del cielo, y el de sus partes guarda íntima relación con él; si el cielo mismo se ve llevado con un movimiento total y cada una de sus partes adopta un determinado movimiento, aunque de igual signo, a causa de su privativa posición, aún nos afirmaremos más en nuestra idea de una vida única y semejante para todas las cosas.

VIII. Il n’est point nécessaire que l’on se souvienne de tout ce que l’on voit, ni qu’on se représente par l’imagination toutes les choses qui se suivent accidentellement. D’un autre côté, quand l’esprit possède une connaissance et une conception claire de certains objets, qui viennent ensuite s’offrir aux sens, rien ne le force d’abandonner la connaissance qu’il a acquise par l’intelligence pour regarder l’objet particulier et sensible qu’il a devant lui, à moins qu’il ne soit chargé d’administrer quelqu’une des choses particulières contenues dans la notion du tout.

Maintenant, pour entrer dans les détails, disons d’abord que l’on ne retient pas nécessairement tout ce que l’on a vu. Quand une chose n’a pas d’intérêt ni d’importance, les sens, frappés par la diversité des objets sans notre concours volontaire, sont seuls affectés ; l’âme ne perçoit pas les impressions, parce que leur différence est pour elle sans aucune utilité. Quand l’âme est tournée vers elle-même ou vers d’autres objets, et qu’elle s’y applique tout entière, elle ne saurait se souvenir de ces choses indifférentes, puisqu’elle n’en a même pas la perception quand elles sont présentes. Il n’est pas davantage nécessaire que l’imagination se représente ce qui est accidentel, ni, si elle se le représente, qu’elle le retienne fidèlement. Il est facile de constater qu’une impression sensible de ce genre n’est point perçue, si l’on veut bien faire attention à ce que nous allons dire. Quand, en marchant, nous divisons ou plutôt nous traversons l’air, sans nous proposer de le faire, nous ne saurions nous en apercevoir ni y songer pendant que nous avançons : De même, si nous n’avions point résolu de faire tel ou tel chemin, et que nous pussions voler à travers les airs, nous ne penserions pas à la région de la terre dans laquelle nous sommes, ni à l’étendue que nous avons parcourue. Si nous avions à nous mouvoir, non pendant un temps déterminé, mais abstraction faite de tout temps, que nous n’eussions point d’ailleurs l’habitude de rapporter au temps nos autres actions, nous ne nous rappellerions pas différents temps. Ce qui le prouve, c’est que, quand l’esprit possède la connaissance générale de ce qui se fait et qu’il est sûr que la chose sera telle qu’il se la représente, il ne s’occupe plus des détails. En outre, quand un être fait toujours la même chose, il ne lui servirait de rien d’en observer toutes les parties. Donc, si les astres, en suivant leur cours, accomplissent en même temps un acte qui leur est propre, s’ils ne s’occupent pas de traverser tel ou tel espace qu’ils traversent, si leur fonction propre n’est pas de considérer les lieux qu’ils parcourent, ni même de les parcourir, si les parcourir est pour les astres quelque chose d’accidentel parce qu’ils s’appliquent à contempler des objets plus relevés, enfin, s’ils parcourent toujours les mêmes lieux, ils ne sauraient calculer le temps ; ou du moins, s’ils y pensaient, ils ne sauraient se rappeler les lieux parcourus et les temps écoulés. Ils ont d’ailleurs une vie uniforme, puisqu’ils parcourent toujours les mêmes lieux, en sorte que leur mouvement est, pour ainsi dire, plutôt vital que local, puisqu’il est produit par un seul être vivant [l’univers], qui, en le réalisant en lui-même, est extérieurement en repos et intérieurement en mouvement par sa vie éternelle. Veut-on comparer le mouvement des astres à celui d’un chœur ? Supposons que ce chœur n’ait qu’une durée limitée : il sera parfait, s’il est pris dans sa totalité, du commencement à la fin ; il sera imparfait s’il est pris dans chacune de ses parties. Supposons qu’il existe toujours, il est toujours parfait. S’il est toujours parfait, il n’y aura pas de temps ni de lieu où il devienne parfait ; par conséquent, il n’aura même pas de désir, et il ne mesurera rien ni par le temps, ni par le lieu ; il ne se souviendra donc ni de l’un ni de l’autre.

En outre, les astres jouissent d’une vie bienheureuse, parce qu’ils contemplent la vie véritable dans leurs âmes propres, qu’aspirant tous à l’Un et rayonnant dans le ciel entier, comme des cordes qui vibrent à l’unisson, ils produisent une espèce de concert par leur harmonie naturelle. Enfin, le ciel entier tourne sur lui-même ainsi que ses parties, qui, malgré la diversité de leurs mouvements et de leurs positions, gravitent toutes vers un même centre. Or tous ces faits viennent à l’appui de ce que nous avançons, puisqu’il en résulte que la vie de l’univers est une et uniforme.

MANY NEW THINGS ARE UNNOTICED; NOTHING FORCES THE PERCEPTION OF NEW THINGS.

8. It is not necessary to remember all one sees, nor by imagination to represent to oneself all the things that follow fortuitously. Besides, when the mind possesses a knowledge and a clear conception of certain objects which later come to offer themselves to his senses, nothing forces him to abandon the knowledge he has acquired by intelligence, to look at the particular sense-object which is in front of him, unless he be charged to administer some of the particular things contained in the notion of the all.

MEMORY IS NOT COMPULSORY.

Now, to enter into details, let us first say that one does not necessarily retain all one has seen. When something is neither interesting nor important, the senses, impressed by the diversity of objects without our voluntary direction of consciousness, are alone affected; the soul does not perceive the impressions because there is no utility in them for her. When the soul is turned towards herself, or towards other objects, and when she applies herself to them entirely, she could not remember these indifferent things, for she does not even perceive them when they are present. Neither is it necessary that the imagination should represent to itself what is accidental; nor, if it does represent them to itself, that it should retain them faithfully. It is easy to be convinced that a sense-impression of this kind is not perceived, on the ground of the following arguments. In the act of walking we divide, or rather traverse the air, without any conscious purpose; consequently we neither notice it, nor think of it, while we press forward. Likewise, if we had not decided to take some particular road, and unless we could fly through the air, we would not think of the region of the earth where we are, nor of the distance we have traveled. This is proved by the fact that when the mind possesses the general knowledge of what occurs, and is sure that the things will occur as planned, a man no longer attends to details. Besides, if a person continues to do the same thing, it would be useless to continue to observe the similar details. Consequently if the stars, while following their courses, carry out their duties without attending to the occurence of what goes on; and unless their chief duty is to observe occurrences or the occurence itself; and if their progress is nothing more than accidental, while their attention is held by other and greater objects; and if they regularly continue to pass through the same orbit without considering the calculation of time, even if it had already been divided (under these four conditions); there is no need to suppose that these stars would have a memory of the places they pass by, or of their periods. Their life would be uniform; because they always travel through the same places, so that their movement is, so to speak, more vital than local, because it is produced by a single living being (the universe), which, realizing it within itself, is exteriorly at rest and interiorly in motion by its eternal life.

STAR-MOTIONS COMPARED TO A BALLET-CHORUS.

The movement of the stars might be compared to that of a choric ballet. Let us suppose that it had but a limited duration; its motion would be considered perfect, if viewed as a totality, from beginning to end; but if considered in its parts only, it would be imperfect. Now if we suppose that it exists always; then will it always be perfect. If it be always perfect, there will be neither time nor place where it is becoming perfect; consequently, it will not even have any desire, and it will measure nothing, neither by time nor place; and therefore will not remember either.

STARS HAVE NO MEMORY BECAUSE THEY ARE UNIFORMLY BLISSFUL.

Besides, the stars enjoy a blissful life because they contemplate the real life in their own souls; because they all aspire to the One, and, radiating into the entire heavens, like cords that vibrate in unison, they produce a kind of symphony by their natural harmony. Last, the entire heavens revolve; so also do their parts, which, in spite of the diversity of their motions, and of their positions, all gravitate towards a same centre. Now all these facts support the theory we have advanced, since they show that the life of the universe is one system, and is uniform.

8. But, we need not record in memory all we see; mere incidental concomitants need not occupy the imagination; when things vividly present to intuition, or knowledge, happen to occur in concrete form, it is not necessary - unless for purposes of a strictly practical administration - to pass over that direct acquaintance, and fasten upon the partial sense-presentation, which is already known in the larger knowledge, that of the Universe.

I will take this point by point:

First: it is not essential that everything seen should be laid up in the mind; for when the object is of no importance, or of no personal concern, the sensitive faculty, stimulated by the differences in the objects present to vision, acts without accompaniment of the will, and is alone in entertaining the impression. The soul does not take into its deeper recesses such differences as do not meet any of its needs, or serve any of its purposes. Above all, when the soul’s act is directed towards another order, it must utterly reject the memory of such things, things over and done with now, and not even taken into knowledge when they were present.

On the second point: circumstances, purely accidental, need not be present to the imaging faculty, and if they do so appear they need not be retained or even observed, and in fact the impression of any such circumstance does not entail awareness. Thus in local movement, if there is no particular importance to us in the fact that we pass through first this and then that portion of air, or that we proceed from some particular point, we do not take notice, or even know it as we walk. Similarly, if it were of no importance to us to accomplish any given journey, mere movement in the air being the main concern, we would not trouble to ask at what particular point of place we were, or what distance we had traversed; if we have to observe only the act of movement and not its duration, nothing to do which obliges us to think of time, the minutes are not recorded in our minds.

And finally, it is of common knowledge that, when the understanding is possessed of the entire act undertaken and has no reason to foresee any departure from the normal, it will no longer observe the detail; in a process unfailingly repeated without variation, attention to the unvarying detail is idleness.

So it is with the stars. They pass from point to point, but they move on their own affairs and not for the sake of traversing the space they actually cover; the vision of the things that appear on the way, the journey by, nothing of this is their concern: their passing this or that is of accident not of essence, and their intention is to greater objects: moreover each of them journeys, unchangeably, the same unchanging way; and again, there is no question to them of the time they spend in any given section of the journey, even supposing time division to be possible in the case. All this granted, nothing makes it necessary that they should have any memory of places or times traversed. Besides this life of the ensouled stars is one identical thing [since they are one in the All-Soul] so that their very spatial movement is pivoted upon identity and resolves itself into a movement not spatial but vital, the movement of a single living being whose act is directed to itself, a being which to anything outside is at rest, but is in movement by dint of the inner life it possesses, the eternal life. Or we may take the comparison of the movement of the heavenly bodies to a choral dance; if we think of it as a dance which comes to rest at some given period, the entire dance, accomplished from beginning to end, will be perfect while at each partial stage it was imperfect: but if the dance is a thing of eternity, it is in eternal perfection. And if it is in eternal perfection, it has no points of time and place at which it will achieve perfection; it will, therefore, have no concern about attaining to any such points: it will, therefore, make no measurements of time or place; it will have, therefore, no memory of time and place.

If the stars live a blessed life in their vision of the life inherent in their souls, and if, by force of their souls’ tendency to become one, and by the light they cast from themselves upon the entire heavens, they are like the strings of a lyre which, being struck in tune, sing a melody in some natural scale... if this is the way the heavens, as one, are moved, and the component parts in their relation to the whole - the sidereal system moving as one, and each part in its own way, to the same purpose, though each, too, hold its own place - then our doctrine is all the more surely established; the life of the heavenly bodies is the more clearly an unbroken unity.