The Rudolf Steiner Archive

1. The Stages of Higher Knowledge

[ 1 ] Up to the encounter with the two “Guardians of the Threshold,” the book How to Attain Knowledge of the Higher Worlds has traced the path to higher knowledge. Now the relationships between the soul and the various worlds as it passes through the successive stages of knowledge are to be described. This provides what may be called the Outline of Occult Science.

[ 2 ] Before a person embarks on the path of higher knowledge, he knows only the first of four levels of knowledge. It is the one that is inherent to him in ordinary life within the sensory world. Even in what is initially called “science,” one deals only with this first level of cognition. For this science merely refines ordinary perception, making it more disciplined. It equips the senses with instruments—microscopes, telescopes, etc.—to see more precisely what the unaided senses cannot see. But the level of cognition remains the same, whether one observes objects of normal size with the naked eye or tracks very small objects and processes with a magnifying glass. Even in the application of thought to things and facts, this science does not go beyond what is already practiced in everyday life. One classifies objects, describes and compares them, seeks to form a picture of their changes, and so on. In this regard, even the most rigorous natural scientist does, in essence, nothing more than refine the observational methods of everyday life in a systematic manner. His understanding becomes more comprehensive, more complex, and more logical; but he does not advance to a different type of knowledge.

[ 3 ] This first level of knowledge in esoteric science is called the “material mode of knowledge.” To this are added, first of all, three higher stages. These are then followed by still more. They will be described here before proceeding further with the description of the “path of knowledge.” If one takes ordinary, sensory-scientific knowledge as the first stage, one must first distinguish the following four stages:

1. material insight,
2. imaginative insight,
3. inspired insight, which can also be called “volitional.”
4. intuitive insight.

[ 4 ] These stages will be discussed in more detail later. First, one must understand what these different types of cognition entail. — In ordinary sensory cognition, four elements come into play: 1. the object, which makes an impression on the senses; 2. the image that a person forms of this object; 3. the concept, through which a person arrives at a mental grasp of a thing or a process; 4. the “I,” which forms an image and a concept based on the impression of the object. Before a person forms an image—a “representation”—there is an object that prompts them to do so. They do not create this object themselves; they perceive it. And on the basis of this object, the image arises. As long as one looks at a thing, one is dealing with the thing itself. The moment one turns away from the thing, one possesses only the image. One leaves the object behind; the image “sticks” in one’s memory. But one cannot stop there, merely forming “images.” One must arrive at “concepts.” The distinction between “image” and “concept” is absolutely necessary if one wishes to be entirely clear on this point. Imagine, for a moment, that you see an object that is circular. Then turn around, keeping the image of the circle in your memory. At this point, you do not yet have the “concept” of the circle. This arises only when one says to oneself: “A circle is a figure in which all points are equidistant from a center.” Only when one has formed a “concept” of a thing has one arrived at an understanding of it. There are many circles: small, large, red, blue, etc.; but there is only one concept of “circle.” — All of this will be discussed in greater detail later; for now, we will merely outline what is necessary to characterize the first four stages of cognition. — The fourth element that comes into play in material cognition is the “I.” Within it, a unity of images and concepts comes into being. This “I” preserves the images in its memory. If this were not the case, there would be no continuous inner life. The images of things would remain present only as long as those things themselves act upon the soul. Inner life, however, depends on one perception following another. The “I” orients itself in the world “today” because, when confronted with certain objects, the images of the same objects from “yesterday” arise within it. One need only imagine how impossible inner life would be if one retained an image of a thing only as long as that thing itself stood before one. — The “I” also forms a unity with regard to concepts. It connects its concepts and in this way gains an overview—that is, an understanding—of the world. This connection of concepts takes place through “judgment.” A being that possessed only loose concepts could not find its way in the world. All human activity is based on the ability to connect concepts—that is, on “judgment.”

[ 5 ] “Material cognition” is based on the fact that human beings receive impressions of things and events in the external world through their senses. They possess the capacity for sensation, or sensitivity. The impression received “from the outside” is also called sensation. Therefore, the four elements come into play in “material cognition”: sensation, image, concept, and “I.” — At the next higher level of cognition, the impression on the external senses—the “sensation”—is eliminated. An external object of the senses is no longer present. Thus, of the elements to which human beings are accustomed through ordinary cognition, only three remain: image, concept, and “I.”

[ 6 ] In a healthy person, ordinary cognition does not form an image or a concept when an external object of the senses is not present. The “I” then remains inactive. Anyone who forms images that are supposed to correspond to sensory objects where, in reality, none exist, lives in a world of fantasy. — But the secret student acquires precisely the ability to form images even where no sensory objects are present. In his case, something else must take the place of the “external object.” He must be able to have images even when no object touches his senses. Something else must take the place of “sensation.” This is imagination. For the secret student at this stage, images arise exactly as if a sensory object were making an impression on him; they are as vivid and real as sensory images, only they do not come from the “material,” but from the “soul” and the “spirit.” The senses remain completely inactive in this process. — It is evident that a person must first acquire this ability to have meaningful images without sensory impressions. This is achieved through meditation and through the exercises described in the book How to Attain Knowledge of the Higher Worlds. A person limited to the sensory world lives only within the sphere of a world of images that have first found their way into them through the senses. The imaginative person has a world of images that draws its supply from a higher world. It requires very careful training to distinguish illusion from reality within this higher world of images. All too easily, when such images first appear before their soul, people say to themselves: “Oh, these are just figments of the imagination, mere products of my imagination.” This is only too understandable. For people are, at first, accustomed to calling “real” only that which is given to them—without any effort on their part—through the solid foundation of their sensory perception. And they must first learn to regard as “real” things that originate from an entirely different source. Nor can they be too cautious in this regard if they do not wish to become fantasists. The decision as to what is “real” in the higher realm—and what is merely “illusion”—can come only from experience. And one must acquire this experience through a quiet, patient inner life. To begin with, one must be fully prepared for “illusion” to play nasty tricks on one. Everywhere lurk the possibilities that images will arise based solely on deceptions of the external senses or on an abnormal way of life. All such possibilities must first be eliminated. One must first completely block off the sources of fantasy; only then can one arrive at imagination. Once one has reached this point, one realizes that the world one enters in this way is not only as real as the sensory world, but that it is a much more real one.

[ 7 ] At the third stage of cognition, even the images disappear. One is now concerned only with “concepts” and the “I.” Whereas at the second stage one is still surrounded by a world of images reminiscent of those moments when a vivid memory conjures up impressions of the external world before the soul without actually having such impressions oneself, at the third stage even such images are no longer present. One lives entirely in a purely spiritual world. Anyone accustomed only to relying on the senses will be tempted to believe that this world is a pale, ghostly one. But it is by no means so. Nor is there anything pale or shadowy about the world of images on the second level. Indeed, that is how most of the images that linger in memory tend to be once external things have vanished. But the images of the imagination possess a vividness and richness of content with which not only the shadowy memory images of the sensory world cannot compare, but not even the entire colorful, ever-changing sensory world itself. Even this is but a shadow compared to the realm of the imagination. — And now, of all things, the world of the third level of cognition! Nothing in the sensory world can convey any idea of its richness and abundance. What sensation is to the first level, and imagination to the second, “inspiration” is to this third level. Inspiration provides the impressions, and the “I” forms the concepts. If one absolutely wishes to compare this world to something sensory, only the world of sound in hearing can be invoked for such a comparison. But one is not dealing with sounds as in sensory music, but with a purely “spiritual sound.” One begins to “hear” what is happening within things. The stone, the plant, and so on become “spiritual words.” The world truly begins to reveal its essence to the soul. It sounds grotesque, but it is literally true: at this stage of cognition, “one spiritually hears the grass grow.” One perceives the form of the crystal as sound; the blossoming flower “speaks” to the human being. The inspired one is able to proclaim the inner essence of things; all things will arise anew before his soul. He speaks a language that comes from another world and yet is what first makes the everyday world comprehensible.

[ 8 ] At the fourth stage of knowledge, inspiration finally comes to an end. Of the elements one is accustomed to considering in everyday perception, only the “I” remains as the object of consideration. The initiate realizes through a very specific inner experience that he has ascended to this stage. This experience is expressed in the feeling that he is no longer outside the things and processes he perceives, but within them. Images are not the object; they merely express it. Nor is what inspiration provides the object. It merely articulates it. But what now lives in the soul is truly the object itself. The “I” has poured itself out over all beings; it has merged with them. The life of things in the soul is now intuition. It is to be taken quite literally when one says of intuition: through it, one creeps into all things. — In ordinary life, a person has only one intuition, namely that of the “I” itself. For the “I” cannot be perceived from the outside in any way; it can only be experienced from within. A simple consideration can make this clear. This is a consideration that, admittedly, psychologists do not make with the desired precision. Yet as unremarkable as it may be, for those who fully understand it, it is of the most far-reaching significance. It is as follows: Every object in the external world can be referred to by all people with the same name. The table can be called “table” by everyone, the tulip “tulip,” and Mr. Müller addressed as “Mr. Müller” by everyone. But there is one word that each person can say only to himself. This is the word “I.” No one else can say “I” to me; to everyone else, I am a “you.” Likewise, everyone else is a “you” to me. Only he himself can say “I” to himself. This stems from the fact that one does not live outside the “I,” but rather within it. And so, through intuitive insight, one lives in all things. The perception of one’s own “I” is the model for all intuitive insight. To enter into things in this way, however, one must first step outside of oneself. One must become “selfless” in order to merge with the “Self,” the “I,” of another being.

[ 9 ] Meditation and concentration are the sure means of ascending to this level, just as to the earlier ones. However, they must be practiced in a quiet, patient manner. Anyone who believes that he can ascend to the higher worlds in a tumultuous manner, using force, is mistaken. And one would succumb to such a belief if one expected reality in higher realms to present itself in exactly the same way as it does in the sensory world. As vivid and rich as the worlds one ascends to may be, they are fine and subtle, whereas the sensory world is coarse and crude. The most important thing one must learn is precisely to become accustomed to calling something “real” that is entirely different from what is designated as such in the realm of the senses. And this is not entirely easy. That is why many who would so gladly walk the secret path recoil already at the very first steps. They expected to encounter things that look like tables and chairs, but instead they find “spirits.” But because “spirits” are not solid like tables and chairs, they appear to them as “figments of the imagination.” This is due to nothing other than unfamiliarity. One must first acquire the proper sensitivity to the spiritual world; then one will not merely perceive the spiritual, but also recognize it. And a large part of the esoteric training relates to this proper recognition and assessment of the spiritual.

[ 10 ] One must first consider the state of sleep if one wishes to gain insight into imaginative knowledge. As long as a person has not attained a higher level of knowledge than the material, the soul does indeed live during sleep, but it cannot perceive anything in the world in which it lives while asleep. In this world, it is like a blind person in the material world. Such a person lives in the world of light and colors, but does not perceive them. — The soul has withdrawn from the external sense organs—the eye, the ear, ordinary brain activity, and so on—during sleep. It receives no impressions through the senses. What, then, does it do during sleep? It must be clear that while awake, the soul is in a state of constant activity. It receives external sensory impressions and processes them: that is its activity. It ceases this activity during sleep. But it is by no means idle. While asleep, it works on its own body, which, after all, becomes worn out during the day’s waking work. This manifests as fatigue. And during sleep, the soul attends to its own body in order to restore it to a state suitable for further waking work during the day. From this, one can see how essential proper sleep is to the body’s well-being. A person who does not sleep adequately prevents their soul from performing the necessary restorative work on the body. — And the consequence of this must be that the body deteriorates. — The forces with which the soul works on the body during sleep are the same as those through which it is active while awake. Only in the latter state are they used to receive and process the impressions of the external senses.

[ 11 ] When imaginative insight begins to take hold in a person, a portion of the forces that were directed toward the body during sleep must be utilized in a different way. These forces now form the spiritual sense organs, which enable the soul not only to live in a higher world but also to perceive it. Thus, while asleep, the soul works on itself, no longer merely on its body. This work is brought about through meditation and concentration, as well as through other exercises. It has already been stated several times in these essays on higher knowledge that specific instructions regarding such exercises can only be given on a person-to-person basis. No one should undertake these exercises on their own. For only those with experience in this field can gauge what effect will arise in one person or another when they undertake to detach their soul’s work from the body and apply it in a higher way.

[ 12 ] Meditation, concentration, and other exercises cause the soul to withdraw for a while from its connection with the sense organs. It is then absorbed in itself. Its activity is turned inward. At the beginning of this absorption, however, its inner activity does not differ significantly from its everyday activity. During this inner work, it must make use of the same ideas, feelings, and sensations that it experiences in ordinary life. But the more it becomes accustomed to being, so to speak, “blind and deaf” to its sensory surroundings—the more it lives within itself—the more capable it becomes of inner achievement. And what she has accomplished through this inward contemplation bears fruit, at first, in the state of sleep. When the soul is freed from the body at night, what has been stimulated by the exercises during the day continues to work within her. Organs form within her through which she comes into contact with a higher environment in just the same way as she previously did with the physical environment through the external sense organs. Out of the darkness of the nocturnal surroundings, the luminous manifestations of the higher world emerge. At first, this communion is delicate and intimate. And one must certainly expect that, for a long time, upon waking, the light of day will immediately draw a dense curtain once more over the experiences of the night. The memory of having perceived something during the night sets in only very slowly and gradually. For the student does not easily learn to pay attention to the delicate formations of his soul, which, in the course of his development, intermingle with the coarse experiences of everyday sensory life. At first, such formations appear to him as what are called random impressions of the soul. Everything depends on the student learning to distinguish between what he owes to the ordinary world and what manifests itself through his own being as a revelation of higher worlds. He must master this distinction in a quiet, introspective inner life. It is necessary that he first acquire a sense of the value and significance of the intimate soul formations that intrude into daily life like “random thoughts” and yet are memories of nocturnal communion with a higher world. As soon as one approaches these things in a crude manner and measures them by the standards of sensory life, they vanish.

[ 13 ] It is evident from the above that, through its work in a higher world, the soul must withdraw some of its otherwise nurturing activity from the body. In a certain sense, it leaves the body to its own devices. The body needs a substitute for what the soul previously provided. If it does not receive such a substitute, it runs the risk of succumbing to corrupting forces. For one must be clear about the fact that human beings are constantly exposed to the influences of their environment. Indeed, they live solely through the effects of this environment. First and foremost, within this environment, the realms of visible nature come into consideration. Human beings belong to this visible nature. If the mineral, plant, and animal kingdoms—and the realm of other human beings—did not exist around them, they could not live. Imagine a human being lifted from the Earth out into outer space; as a physical being, they would perish immediately, just as a hand withers when severed from the body. Just as strong as the illusion would be that the human hand would be guilty of if it believed it could live without the body, so too would be the delusion into which a human being would fall if he claimed he could exist as a physical being without the mineral, animal, and plant kingdoms and without other human beings. — Now, however, in addition to the kingdoms mentioned, there are three others that usually escape human attention. These are the three elemental kingdoms. They stand in a certain relationship subordinate to the mineral kingdom. There are beings that do not attain the level of mineral condensation, but who are no less present for that reason and exert their influence on human beings. (For more on these elemental kingdoms, see what is said about them in the essays “From the Akashic Records,” as well as the remarks on them in my Theosophy.) Human beings are thus exposed to influences from realms of nature that, in a certain sense, must be called invisible. When the soul works upon the body, a significant part of its activity consists in regulating the influences of the elemental realms so that they are beneficial to the human being. — At the very moment, however, when the soul partially withdraws its activity from the body, its destructive forces from the elemental realms can take hold of it. Herein lies a danger to higher development. Care must therefore be taken to ensure that, as soon as the soul withdraws from the body, the body is, of its own accord, open only to beneficial influences from the elemental world. — If this is not observed, the ordinary human being degenerates, in a certain sense, both physically and morally, even though he gains access to higher worlds. While the soul dwells in higher realms, harmful forces take root in the dense physical body and the etheric body. This is why certain negative traits—which, prior to higher development, had been kept in check by the soul’s balancing influence—may manifest if due caution is lacking. People who were previously of good, moral character may, under such circumstances, when they approach the higher worlds, display all manner of base inclinations, heightened selfishness, dishonesty, vindictiveness, anger, and so on. — No one should allow this fact to deter them from ascending to the higher worlds; but precautions must be taken to ensure that such things do not occur. Man’s lower nature must be strengthened and made impervious to dangerous elemental influences. This is achieved precisely through the conscious cultivation of certain virtues. These virtues are listed in the theosophical manuals dealing with spiritual development. Here, however, is the reason why care must be taken with them. They are as follows:

[ 14 ] First, a person must, in a fully conscious manner, constantly strive to distinguish the enduring and imperishable from the transitory in all things, and focus their attention on the former. In every thing and being, a person can suspect or recognize something that remains when the transitory appearance fades away. When I see a plant, I can first observe it as it presents itself to the senses. One should certainly not neglect this. And no one will discover the eternal in things who has not first thoroughly familiarized themselves with the transitory. Those who are always concerned that a person who directs their gaze toward the spiritual and imperishable will lose the “freshness and naturalness of life”—they simply do not yet know what this is actually about. But when I look at the plant in this way, it becomes clear to me that there is an enduring life force within it, one that will emerge anew when the present plant has long since perished. One must incorporate this way of approaching things into one’s entire state of mind. — Then one must set one’s heart on what is valuable and substantial and learn to value this more highly than what is fleeting and insignificant. In all one’s feelings and actions, one should keep in mind the value that something holds within the context of the whole. — Third, one should six cultivate the following qualities within oneself: control of one’s thoughts, control of one’s actions, productivity, impartiality, trust in one’s surroundings, and inner balance. Control of one’s thoughts is achieved by striving to counteract the erratic fluctuations of thoughts and feelings that constantly ebb and flow in the average person. In everyday life, a person is not the master of their thoughts; rather, they are driven by them. Of course, it cannot be any other way. For life drives a person. And as an active being, one must surrender to this drive of life. During ordinary life, it cannot be any other way. But if one wishes to ascend to a higher world, one must at least set aside very brief moments in which one becomes the master of one’s world of thoughts and feelings. There, out of complete inner freedom, one places a thought at the center of one’s soul, whereas otherwise external impressions impose themselves. Then one tries to keep all rising thoughts and feelings at bay and to connect with the first thought only those elements that one oneself wishes to include. Such an exercise has a beneficial effect on the soul and, through it, on the body as well. It brings the body into such a harmonious state that it withdraws from harmful influences, even when the soul is not acting directly upon it. — Control over one’s actions consists in regulating them in a similar way through inner freedom. A good place to start is by setting out to do something regularly that one would not have come to do through ordinary life. In the latter, after all, a person is driven to their actions from the outside. But even the smallest act undertaken of one’s own volition has a greater effect in the direction indicated than anything to which one is compelled by external circumstances. — Productivity lies in refraining from that state of mind that can be described as the alternation between “ecstatic joy and deep sorrow.” A person is driven back and forth between all manner of moods. Pleasure makes him happy; pain weighs him down. This has its place. But whoever seeks the path to higher knowledge must be able to exercise moderation in both pleasure and pain. He must become “resilient.” They must be able to surrender in moderation to both pleasurable impressions and painful experiences, always passing through both with dignity. They must not allow themselves to be overwhelmed by anything, nor lose their composure. This does not lead to insensitivity, but rather makes a person a steadfast center amidst the waves of life that rise and fall all around them. They always remain in control.

[ 15 ] A particularly important quality is the “sense of affirmation.” Anyone can develop this within themselves by focusing their attention in all things on the good, beautiful, and purposeful qualities, rather than primarily on what is reprehensible, ugly, and contradictory. There is a beautiful legend about Christ found in Persian poetry that illustrates what is meant by this quality: A dead dog lies by the side of a path. Among those passing by is Christ. Everyone else turns away from the ugly sight the animal presents; only Christ speaks admiringly of the animal’s beautiful teeth. This is how one can feel toward things; in everything, even the most adverse, there may be something worthy of appreciation for those who seek earnestly. And what is fruitful in things is, after all, not what they lack, but what they possess. — It is also important to develop the quality of “impartiality.” Every person has, after all, had their own experiences and thereby formed a certain set of opinions that then serve as a guide in life. As natural as it is, on the one hand, to be guided by one’s experiences, it is equally important for those who wish to undergo spiritual development toward higher knowledge to always keep an open mind toward everything new—still unknown to them—that comes their way. They will be as cautious as possible in making judgments such as “that is impossible” or “that simply cannot be.” No matter what their opinion may suggest based on past experiences, they are ready at every moment to allow something new that comes their way to lead them to a different opinion. Any attachment to one’s own opinion must fade away. — Once the soul has acquired the five qualities mentioned so far, a sixth arises quite naturally: inner balance, the harmony of the spiritual forces. A person must find within themselves something like a spiritual center of gravity that gives them stability and security in the face of everything in life that pulls them this way or that. One need not, however, avoid engaging with everything or letting everything affect one. The right course is not to flee from the ebb and flow of life’s realities, but rather the opposite: full surrender to life and nevertheless the secure, steadfast preservation of inner balance and harmony.

[ 16 ] At last, the “will to freedom” comes into consideration for the seeker. It is possessed by someone who finds within himself the support and foundation for everything he accomplishes. It is so difficult to attain precisely because it requires a delicate balance between opening one’s mind to all that is great and good and, at the same time, rejecting any form of coercion. It is so easy to say: external influence and freedom are incompatible. But the fact that they are compatible within the soul—that is precisely what matters. If someone tells me something, and I accept it under the compulsion of their authority, then I am unfree. But I am no less unfree if I close myself off from the good that I could receive in this way. For then the worse part of myself exerts a compulsion upon me within my own soul. And when it comes to freedom, what matters is not merely that I am not under the compulsion of an external authority, but above all that I am not under the compulsion of my own prejudices, opinions, impressions, and feelings. What is right is not blind submission to what one receives, but rather allowing oneself to be inspired by it, accepting it with complete impartiality in order to profess it “freely.” An external authority should have no other effect than to make one say: I free myself precisely by following its goodness, that is, by making it my own. And an authority grounded in esoteric science does not wish to exert its influence in any other way. It gives what it has to give, not to gain power over the recipient, but solely so that the recipient may become richer and freer through the gift.

[ 17 ] The significance of the characteristics mentioned has already been pointed out earlier in the discussion of the “lotus flowers.” There, it was shown how they relate to the development of the twelve-petaled lotus flower in the region of the heart and to the associated currents of the etheric body. From what has now been said, it is evident that their essential task is to render the seeker’s physical body independent of those forces that would otherwise benefit him during sleep and that must be withdrawn from him for the sake of his development. Under such influences, imaginative insight develops.