I believe that, as the divinities are eternally good and profitable but are never harmful, and that they ever subsist in the same uniform mode of being, we are united with them through similitude when we are virtuous but separated from them through dissimilitude when we partake of vice. That while we live according to virtue we partake of the Gods, but cause them to be our enemies when we become evil: not that they are angry (for anger is a passion, and they are impassive), but because guilt prevents us from receiving the illuminations of the Gods, and subjects us to the power of daemons of fateful justice. Hence, I believe, that if we obtain pardon of our guilt through prayers and sacrifices, we neither appease the Gods, nor cause any change to take place in them; but by methods of this kind, and by our conversion to a divine nature, we apply a remedy to our own vices and again become partakers of the goodness of the Gods. So that it is the same thing to assert, that divinity is turned from the evil, as to say that the sun is concealed from those who are deprived of sight.

Thomas Taylor, The Platonic Philosophers' Creed, 13, (moderately paraphrased to clarify the meaning of Taylor's antique English)

The fable of Aeolus, from The Odyssey, Book 10; followed by interpretation.

We reached the Aeolian island next, the home of Aeolus,
Hippotas' son, beloved by the gods who never die -
a great floating island it was, and round it all
huge ramparts rise of indestructible bronze
and sheer rock cliffs shoot up from sea to sky.
The king had sired twelve children within his halls,
six daughters and six sons in the lusty prime of youth,
so he gave his daughters as wives to his six sons.
Seated beside their dear father and doting mother,
with delicacies aplenty spread before them,
they feast on forever... All day long
the halls breathe the savor of roasted meats
and echo round to the low moan of blowing pipes,
and all night long, each one by his faithful mate,
they sleep under soft-piled rugs on corded bedsteads.

To this city of theirs we came, their splendid palace,
and Aeolus hosted me one entire month, he pressed me for news
of Troy and the Argive ships and how we sailed for home,
and I told him the whole long story, first to last.
And then, when I begged him to send me on my way,
he denied me nothing, he went about my passage.
He gave me a sack, the skin of a full-grown ox,
binding inside the winds that howl from every quarter,
for Zeus had made that king the master of all the winds,
with power to calm them down or rouse them as he pleased.
Aeolus stowed the sack inside my holds, lashed so fast
with a burnished silver cord
not even a slight puff could slip past that knot.
Yet he set the West Wind free to blow us on our way
and waft our squadron home. But his plan was bound to fail,
yes, our own reckless folly swept us on to ruin...

Nine whole days we sailed, nine nights, nonstop.
On the tenth our own land hove into sight at last -
we were so close we could see men tending fires.
But now an enticing sleep came on me, bone-weary
from working the vessel's sheet myself, no letup,
never trusting the ropes to any other mate,
the faster to journey back to native land.
But the crews began to mutter among themselves,
sure I was hauling troves of gold and silver home,
the gifts of open-hearted Aeolus, Hippotas' son.
'The old story!' One man glanced at another, grumbling.
'Look at our captain's luck - so loved by the world,
so prized at every landfall, every port of call.'

'Heaps of lovely plunder he hauls home from Troy,
while we who went through slogging just as hard,
we go home empty-handed.'

'Now this Aeolus loads him
down with treasure. Favoritism, friend to friend!'

'Hurry, let's see what loot is in that sack,
how much gold and silver. Break it open - now!'

A fatal plan, but it won my shipmates over.
They loosed the sack and all the winds burst out
and a sudden squall struck and swept us back to sea,
wailing, in tears, far from our own native land.
And I woke up with a start, my spirit churning -
should I leap over the side and drown at once or
grit my teeth and bear it, stay among the living?
I bore it all, held firm, hiding my face,
clinging tight to the decks
while heavy squalls blasted our squadron back
again to Aeolus' island, shipmates groaning hard.

We disembarked on the coast, drew water there
and crewmen snatched a meal by the swift ships.
Once we'd had our fill of food and drink
I took a shipmate along with me, a herald too,
and approached King Aeolus' famous halls and here
we found him feasting beside his wife and many children.
Reaching the doorposts at the threshold, down we sat
but our hosts, amazed to see us, only shouted questions:
'Back again, Odysseus - why? Some blustering god attacked you?
Surely we launched you well, we sped you on your way
to your own land and house, or any place you pleased.'

So they taunted, and I replied in deep despair,
'A mutinous crew undid me - that and a cruel sleep.
Set it to rights, my friends. You have the power!'

So I pleaded - gentle, humble appeals -
but our hosts turned silent, hushed...
and the father broke forth with an ultimatum:
'Away from my island - fast - most cursed man alive!
It's a crime to host a man or speed him on his way
when the blessed deathless gods despise him so.
Crawling back like this -
it proves the immortals hate you! Out - get out!'

The fable of Aeolus tells us of divine favor which protects and encourages a person as they travel the stormy sea of life, and the consequences if this guidance is rejected or ignored. The magical sack of Aeolus allows Odysseus to travel with safety and ease to his homeland - our proper homeland is the divine realm. The "sack" is Odysseus's self-mastery. However, if a person foolishly ignores or rejects providence, he will face temporary disaster. Odysseus, though he had advanced to a certain level of virtue, nevertheless falters: the “captain of the ship” (which is Reason) falls asleep, and the stupid, envious crew bring ruin by opening the sack which they wrongly believe contains gold and silver. Thus, an irrational lust proves to be deceptive; instead of gold, they lose their momentum and progress and have to start over again, this time without favor.

Hercules and the Wagoner (Aesop's Fables).

A Wagoner was driving a heavy load along a muddy road. He came to a part of the road where the wheels sank half-way into the mire, and the more the horses pulled, the deeper sank the wheels. So the Wagoner threw down his whip, knelt down and prayed to Hercules the Strong.

“O Hercules, help me in my hour of distress!”

But Hercules appeared to him, and said: “Come on, man, don’t sprawl there. Get up and put your shoulder to the wheel!”

The result of virtue is similarity to God. But God cannot have virtue in the same sense we do because God is already perfect.

The soul becomes virtuous as it disentangles itself from the control of the body.

Wisdom is freedom from the body in thinking.
Self-control/Temperance is freedom from the body in willing.
Courage is freedom from the fear of death.
Justice is the body in obedience to reason.

"The focus is not on being exempt from moral error, but on being God."

Control is paramount. You should never feel bullied by your "body."

The point is not that body = bad, any more than the working class of a society = bad. You need the working class, and the working class is good - but if the working class bullies the rest of the society into following its various irrational and shortsighted demands, you will have a disastrous society. It is the same with you - your reason must be King.

"Just as a target is not set up in order to be missed, so neither does the nature of evil exist in the world."
Epictetus, The Handbook, 27

Evil is simply the absence of virtue - and virtue is assimilation to God.

I believe that there is one first cause of all things, whose nature is so immensely transcendent, that it is even super-essential; and that in consequence of this it cannot properly either be named or spoken of, or conceived by opinion, or be known, or perceived by any being.

I believe, however, that if it be lawful to give a name to that which is truly ineffable, the appellations of The One and The Good are of all others the most appropriate; the former of these names indicating that it is the principle of all things, and the latter that it is the ultimate object of desire to all things.

I believe that this immense principle produced such things as are first and nearest to itself, most similar to itself; just as the heat immediately proceeding from fire is most similar to the heat in the fire; and the light immediately emanating from the sun, to that which the sun essentially contains. Hence, this principle produces many principles immediately from itself.

I likewise believe that, since all things are distinct from each other and are replicated in multitudes with their proper distinctions, each of these multitudes is suspended from its one proper principle. For example, all beautiful things, whether in souls or in bodies, are suspended from one fountain of beauty. Furthermore, that whatever possesses symmetry, and whatever is true, and all principles, are in a certain respect born with the first principle, insofar as they are principles, with an appropriate subjection and likeness to it...

Thomas Taylor, The Platonic Philosophers' Creed, 1 - 4, moderately paraphrased

1. Alcibiades I
2. Gorgias
3. Phaedo
4. Cratylus
5. Theaetetus
6. Sophist
7. Statesman
8. Phaedrus
9. Symposium
10. Philebus
11. Timaeus
12. Parmenides

This is the classical curriculum of Plato's dialogues (in that order). You'll notice there are conveniently 12 of them, and none of them are particularly long (average length is about 58 pages). You can easily find free translations of them online.

It is an oracle of Necessity, an ancient decree of the gods,
Eternal and securely sealed with broad oaths,
That when one has sinfully polluted his hands with blood -
One of the daimones to whom long life has been allotted -
For thrice ten thousand seasons he wanders far from the abodes of the blessed.
In time he assumes all the various forms of mortal things
And exchanges one hard path of life for another.
For the power of aither pursues him into the sea,
And the sea spits him on to dry land, and the earth into the beams
Of the blazing sun, and the sun casts him into the whirling aither.
Each in turn receives him, but to all he is loathsome.
One of these I now am, an exile from the gods, a wanderer,
Putting my trust in the insanities of strife.

Empedocles, fragment 115

The Pythagoreans would break for exercise - some would have foot races, some would wrestle, some would lift weights. Exercise was a part of their daily routine. As esoteric and mystical as this path can seem at times, it's important to remember that this is not the path for couch potatoes or effeminate dreamers!

"The Handbook of Platonism" or Didaskalikos, a classic introduction to the Platonic path by the "Middle Platonist" philosopher, Alcinous.

As for sex, you should stay pure before marriage as far as you can, but if you have to indulge, do only what is lawful. However, do not be angry with those who do indulge, or criticise them, and do not boast of the fact that you do not yourself indulge.

If you are told that someone is saying bad things about you, do not defend yourself against what is said, but answer, ‘Obviously this person is ignorant of my other faults, otherwise they would not have mentioned only these ones.’

Epictetus, The Handbook, 33

The lovers of learning know that when philosophy gets hold of their soul, it is imprisoned in and clinging to the body, and that it is forced to examine other things through it as through a cage and not by itself, and that it wallows in every kind of ignorance. Philosophy sees that the worst feature of this imprisonment is that it is due to desires, so that the prisoner himself is contributing to his own incarceration most of all. As I say, the lovers of learning know that philosophy gets hold of their soul when it is in that state, then gently encourages it and tries to free it by showing them that investigation through the eyes is full of deceit, as is that through the ears and the other senses. Philosophy then persuades the soul to withdraw from the senses in so far as it is not compelled to use them and bids the soul to gather itself together by itself, to trust only itself and whatever reality, existing by itself, the soul by itself understands, and not to consider as true whatever it examines by other means, for this is different in different circumstances and is sensible and visible, whereas what the soul itself sees is intelligible and invisible. The soul of the true philosopher thinks that this deliverance must not be opposed and so keeps away from pleasures and desires and pains as far as he can; he reflects that violent pleasures or pain or passion does not cause merely such evils as one might expect, such as one suffers when one has been sick or extravagant through desire, but the greatest and most extreme evil, though one does not reflect on this. ... The soul of every man, when it feels violent pleasure or pain in connection with some object, inevitably believes at the same time that what causes such feelings must be very clear and very true, which it is not. ... Every pleasure or pain provides, as it were, another nail to rivet the soul to the body and to weld them together. It makes the soul corporeal, so that it believes that truth is what the body says it is. As it shares the beliefs and delights of the body, I think it inevitably comes to share its ways and manner of life and is unable ever to reach Hades in a pure state; it is always full of body when it departs, so that it soon falls back into another body and grows with it as if it had been sewn into it. Because of this, it can have no part in the company of the divine, the pure and uniform.

Plato, Phaedo, 82e - 83e

How angry you would be if someone handed over your body to just any person who happened to meet you! Are you not ashamed, then, when you hand over your mind to just any person you happen to meet, such that when they abuse you, you are upset and troubled?

Epictetus, The Handbook, 28

Socrates: Don't you realize that the errors in our conduct are caused by this kind of ignorance, of thinking that we know when we don't know?
Alcibiades: What do you mean by that?
Socrates: Well, we don't set out to do something unless we think we know what we're doing, right?
Alcibiades: Right.
Socrates: But when people don't think they know how to do something, they hand it over to somebody else, right?
Alcibiades: Of course.
Socrates: So the sort of people who don't think they know how to do things make no mistakes in life, because they leave those things to other people.
Alcibiades: You're right.
Socrates: Well, who are the ones making the mistakes? Surely not the ones who know?
Alcibiades: Of course not.
Socrates: Well, since it's not those who know, and it's not those who don't know and know they don't know, is there anyone left except those who don't know but think they do know?
Alcibiades: No, they're the only ones left.
Socrates: So this is the ignorance that causes bad things; this is the most disgraceful sort of stupidity.
Alcibiades: Yes.
Socrates: And isn't it most harmful and most contemptible when it is ignorance of the most important things?
Alcibiades: Very much so.
Socrates: Well, can you name anything more important than what's just and admirable and good and advantageous?

Plato, First Alcibiades

Just as a small object nearby falsely appears larger than a large object in the distance, so do short term goods (or apparent goods) seem greater than long term goods. But they are not actually greater - they only seem so. Therefore we must train ourselves to judge correctly. Cf. Plato, Protagoras

Your appetites are your “peasant class.” Your will is your “warrior class.” And your reason is your king - you are the “king” of yourself. Be sure to act like it.

People often wonder if there is a Western analog to Eastern meditation.

The answer is yes.

In our tradition, reason is akin to the divine. Therefore, to use reason to meditate on the divine is a spiritual activity. The method for doing this is called Dialectic or Meditation and Socrates is our great example of the meditating philosopher, of the dialectician.

Study the dialogues and you will learn how to use divine reason to move closer to divinity.

Once, having used dialectic, you have meditated, you can then sit in quiet knowing and see. This is Contemplation.