The Rudolf Steiner Archive

12. Errors in Spiritual Research

[ 1 ] If it is of great importance in all areas of human endeavor and inquiry to know not only the paths to truth but also the sources of error, this is especially true in the field addressed by these lectures—the field of spiritual research, or spiritual science. In this field, one is not merely dealing with sources of error that can, so to speak, be removed through judgment and reflection, but rather with sources of error that are encountered at every turn in the spiritual search for truth. One is confronted with errors that, on the path to truth, must not merely be refuted, but must be overcome and vanquished. And only by recognizing them—by being able to perceive the corresponding experiences in their true nature as errors in one’s spiritual vision—is one able to guard against them and protect oneself from them. It is not possible to speak of individual truths or errors in this field; rather, it is necessary to gain clarity regarding the activities of the soul—the soul’s deviations—through which a person can fall into falsehood on the path of spiritual research.

[ 2 ] It is easy to understand that anyone who, in accordance with what has been explained in the previous lectures, wishes to force their way into the supersensible worlds needs, first of all, so to speak, a healthy organ of perception—just as we need healthy senses in the realm of external sensory observation. And the second point is that, in addition to this organ of perception, one must have a corresponding training—a complete training—and clarity of consciousness that is capable of surveying and evaluating the corresponding observations. This is necessary even in the ordinary sensory observation of life: we must not only have healthy senses, but our consciousness must also be healthy—that is, it must not be clouded, dazed, or numbed, nor must it be paralyzed in any way. Both of these qualities of the soul life on a higher level take on even greater significance in the realm of spiritual research.

[ 3 ] To make ourselves clear, let us draw an analogy from ordinary sensory observation. Suppose, for example, that someone has an abnormally developed eye. Then he will not be able to use this abnormally developed eye to observe the things that are to be seen in an unbiased, correct manner. Among hundreds and hundreds of examples that could be cited, only this one shall be mentioned. A very prominent contemporary naturalist, who is in no way inclined to arbitrarily succumb to any illusions, had a certain defect in his eye, and in his autobiography he described how this defect caused him to see things inaccurately—particularly at twilight—and to arrive at incorrect judgments as a result of this inaccurate vision. He describes, for example, that he often walks through the darkness, and because of the defect in his eye, he sees certain shapes that he believes to be real, but which are caused by nothing other than his abnormal eye. He then recounts how, on one occasion, he was walking around a corner in a city unfamiliar to him, and because he considered the city unsafe, his eye led him to believe he saw someone coming toward him from around the corner who intended to attack him, and he even drew his weapon to defend himself. Thus, despite his complete understanding of his own organ, he was not even able to assess the situation correctly and recognize what his eye was conjuring up as nothing. And so errors can occur in all of our sensory organs. This is mentioned merely by way of comparison.

[ 4 ] In the lectures so far, it has been explained how a person can develop into a true spiritual researcher through certain inner processes and the development of their soul, and how they can bring to fruition within themselves the true spiritual faculties through which they can glimpse into the supersensible world. These spiritual organs, too, must be developed in the proper way if it is to be possible—just as with sensory perception—to see not caricatures and untruths, but the true and real aspects of the higher, spiritual worlds. Now, the development of the higher spiritual organs—which, as we have seen, can be brought about through properly applied meditation, concentration, and contemplation—depends on the starting point of one’s ordinary life. Every person who wishes to develop the ability to perceive the spiritual worlds must—and this is entirely natural and appropriate—take as their starting point ordinary soul development, that which is right and normal for everyday life and also for ordinary science. Only from this starting point, by taking into the soul the kinds of mental images we have described as meditations and other exercises, can the soul advance to the observation of the spiritual worlds.

[ 5 ] The point here is that, at the outset—that is, before the start of spiritual training—the aspiring spiritual researcher must possess sound judgment, a capacity for judgment that is grounded in reality. Any starting point that does not stem from a sound power of judgment—one that is open to the nature of things—is harmful, for it gives rise to unhealthy spiritual organs of perception that can be compared to sensory organs that are not normally developed. And here we return to the point that has already been mentioned at one place or another in the lectures so far, and which shows how important and significant is what might be called the spiritual life of the spiritual researcher before he begins his training as a spiritual researcher, his spiritual training. An unhealthy faculty of judgment, a deficient ability to observe things in their reality, leads a person to distort the facts and entities of the spiritual world or—as we shall see today—to perceive them incorrectly in the most varied ways. This is, so to speak, the first important principle for any development toward spiritual research. Spiritual scientific training, in particular, necessitates that the starting point be a sound power of judgment—an interest in things that always seeks to uncover the true interrelationships of existence—even before the path to the supersensible worlds is embarked upon. Everything in the soul that readily succumbs to delusions, that is inclined to make arbitrary judgments, that represents a certain unhealthy logic—all of this also leads to the development of unhealthy spiritual faculties.

[ 6 ] The other starting point, which is of essential importance, is the moral disposition of the soul. Moral competence, moral strength—these are just as important as sound logic and sound intellectuality. For just as unhealthy logic and unhealthy intellectuality lead to inadequately developed spiritual faculties, so too does the weak-willed or immoral disposition—which the ascender into the spiritual worlds possesses before the start of spiritual training—lead to a certain clouding, numbness, we might call it—so that when faced with the higher worlds, they experience something that must be described as a kind of paralysis, even a loss of consciousness. It must be noted, however, that at the stage of soul development referred to here, what has been called fainting or numbness cannot in any way be compared to the fainting or paralysis of ordinary, everyday consciousness. There, it signifies a certain unconsciousness toward the realms of life. In the spiritual realm, numbness and clouding of consciousness mean that consciousness is permeated by everything that may still originate from the ordinary sensory world or from ordinary daily experience. The spiritual researcher caught up in error cannot be clouded or powerless to the same degree as ordinary consciousness. But he can be powerless in relation to the spiritual worlds in that his field of spiritual consciousness becomes filled with what is justified only by its nature, by the way it manifests in ordinary sensory and intellectual consciousness. By carrying such things up into the spiritual worlds, the spiritual researcher clouds his higher consciousness.

[ 7 ] One can also describe the matter in the following way. A clouding of consciousness—an impairment of the ordinary state of mind in everyday life—is like sleep or dreaming intruding into clear, everyday consciousness. The numbing or clouding of the higher, supersensory consciousness, however, is like an intrusion of ordinary, everyday consciousness—the consciousness we carry with us in the ordinary world—into that higher consciousness where it should no longer be present, into the consciousness that should purely and clearly assess and survey the realities of the higher, supersensible worlds. Any kind of immoral or morally weak disposition, any kind of moral insincerity, leads to such a clouding of the supersensible consciousness. Therefore, one of the most essential and significant elements at the outset of spiritual scientific training is a corresponding moral disposition; and if you read through my work *How Does One Attain Knowledge of the Higher Worlds?*, you will find specific spiritual exercises described therein through which this appropriate moral disposition can be established.

[ 8 ] From this perspective, everything that befalls people in everyday life—vanity, ambition, ordinary self-centeredness, and a certain fondness for this or that experience—is particularly harmful. Serenity, impartiality, a loving engagement with things and worlds, an attentive interest in everything that life has to offer, and similar qualities—but above all, a certain moral courage and a commitment to what is recognized as true—these are the proper starting points for training in the spiritual sciences.

[ 9 ] It is clear from the lectures so far that all spiritual training is based on the need to draw out certain spiritual powers that are present in the soul but lie dormant within it in ordinary life. For the spiritual organs and supersensible consciousness can develop only when the forces that lie dormant in the depths of the soul—and which are either not at all or only weakly developed in ordinary life—emerge and truly penetrate into consciousness. And the following has also already emerged from the previous considerations. Two things occur when a person, through proper meditation—by concentrating their entire soul life on individual images summoned into consciousness at will—seeks to bring forth these powers lying dormant in the depths of the soul. First, a quality that is otherwise always present in the soul—but which in ordinary life can be overcome by relatively simple measures—is strengthened and invigorated along with the other qualities that otherwise lie dormant in the depths of the soul. For spiritual development cannot take place in any other way than by making the entire life of the soul, in a certain sense, more inwardly active and energetic. The quality that is thus strengthened along with what one is seeking to strengthen is what might be called the human sense of self, or self-love. Indeed, one might say that one truly comes to know this sense of self, this self-love, only when undergoing spiritual scientific training. Only then does one realize how deeply this self-love is present in the human soul, slumbering there. Anyone who strengthens their soul forces through the exercises described in the previous lectures will notice, at a certain point in their development, how a different world enters their soul life. At the same time, however—and this is part of their spiritual development—they must be able to recognize that the first form of the new, supersensible world that appears is nothing other than a shadow image, a projection of their own inner soul life. The forces they have cultivated within their soul life first appear to them as if in a mirror image. This is also why the external, materialistic thinker can very easily confuse what occurs in the spiritual researcher’s inner life with the illusions, hallucinations, visions, and the like that may arise in a pathological mental state. It has often been pointed out that an objection raised from this perspective is based solely on a lack of knowledge of the facts. Yet this distinction must be emphasized time and again: the pathological mental life, which sees its own essence before itself as in a mirror image, regards this mirror image as a real world and is unable to dispel this perception through inner will alone. In contrast, proper spiritual training must include the ability of the spiritual researcher to recognize the initial phenomena that arise as reflections of his own being—and not only to recognize them as such, but also to be able to remove them from his field of consciousness, to erase them.

[ 10 ] Just as the spiritual researcher, on the one hand, comes to strengthen his soul forces through his exercises so that they conjure up a new world for him, so, on the other hand, he must again be able to erase this entire world in its original form; he must not only recognize it as a reflection of his own being, but also be able to erase it again. If he is unable to do so, then he finds himself in a situation comparable to one that, were it to occur in sensory perception, would be utterly unbearable and entirely impossible for the true development of the human soul. Let us suppose that in ordinary sensory perception, when a person directs his eyes toward an object, he would be so drawn to it that he could not freely turn his gaze away again. The person would thus no longer be able to let his gaze roam freely, but would be held fast by the object. That would be an unbearable situation in relation to the external world. Exactly the same would be true in spiritual development with regard to the supersensible world if a person were not able, so to speak, to turn their spiritual organ of perception in any direction and to erase what presents itself to that organ as an image. For only when he can perform the test—“You can erase your image”—and then, after first overcoming himself in this act of erasure, sees it return in the appropriate manner, so that he can come to know its reality in the appropriate way—only then does he stand face to face with reality and not with his own imagination. Thus, the spiritual researcher must not only be able to produce his spiritual phenomena and approach them, but he must also be able to erase them again. But what does that mean?

[ 11 ] It means nothing less than the need for an immensely powerful force, which is necessary to overcome self-centeredness and self-love. For why does the abnormal state of mind—which gives rise to hallucinations, visions, and delusions—perceive these constructs as realities rather than as manifestations of its own being? Precisely because a person feels so connected to what he himself produces—to which he is bound—that he believes himself to be annihilated if he cannot regard what he himself produces as a reality. And when a person steps out of the ordinary world and their inner life is not normal, then self-love intensifies to such an extent that it acts like a force of nature.

[ 12 ] In ordinary mental life, we can distinguish very clearly between what is, so to speak, fantasy or imagination and what is reality. For in ordinary mental life, we have a certain power over our ideas. Everyone is familiar with this power that the soul has over its ideas, which enables it to dispel certain ideas once their fallacy is recognized. We face the external world in a different way when we are confronted with the forces of nature. When lightning flashes, when thunder rolls, we must let these phenomena run their course; we cannot forbid the lightning to flash or the thunder to roll. But the same inner power gives rise to the sense of self within us when we step outside of ordinary mental life. And just as one cannot forbid lightning to flash, so one cannot forbid self-love—which has grown into a force of nature—to be perceived as a real external world, provided it is merely a reflection of one’s own being, that which presents itself to the soul as an image of its own essence.

[ 13 ] It is thus evident that the spiritual seeker’s self-education must, above all, be directed toward gradually overcoming self-love, stubbornness, and self-centeredness. And only when this is attempted at every stage of spiritual development through keen self-observation will one ultimately be able—when a spiritual world such as the one described appears before us—to dispel it, that is, to be in a position to let that which one initially brought about with every possible effort fall back into oblivion. —As described in more detail in *How Does One Attain Knowledge of the Higher Worlds?*, something must be developed here for spiritual training that, in ordinary life, is not actually subject to human will.

[ 14 ] When a person undertakes an action in everyday life, he intends to do so; when he refrains from doing something, he does not intend to do it. It must be said that in ordinary life, a person is able to apply the impulses of their will. However, in order for the spiritual world that arises in the manner described to be extinguished, the will must not only possess the ability just described, but—once the spiritual world has arisen—it must be able to gradually, bit by bit, weaken itself until it reaches a state of complete lack of will, until the spiritual world has been extinguished. Such training of the will is attained only when the exercises described in the aforementioned book are systematically carried out by the soul.

[ 15 ] On the one hand, this is what is strengthened within our soul when we seek to invigorate the powers lying dormant within it: self-love and self-centeredness; and this strengthening constantly leads us to the point where, under certain circumstances, we mistake what we actually are—what lies solely within ourselves—for an external reality. Another phenomenon that arises when the soul undergoes the corresponding exercises for spiritual training is that, at a certain stage of this development, a person must essentially, in their consciousness, let go of everything that has, up to that point in their life—in external everyday life and in conventional science—provided a sense of truth and certainty, and that has enabled them to recognize something as reality. It will already have become clear from the lectures given so far that all the supports we have for our judgments in ordinary life—all the points of reference that the sensory world provides us and that teach us how to think about truth—must be relinquished. For it is precisely through spiritual training that we wish to enter a higher world. When the spiritual researcher, having reached a certain stage in his development, realizes: “You can no longer find any foothold in the world you are about to enter through external sensory perception, nor can you find a foothold in what you have cultivated as your intellectual judgment—which otherwise guides you correctly through life”— then comes the moment—significant and serious in the life of the spiritual researcher—when he feels as if the ground has been pulled out from under his feet, as if the foothold he had in ordinary life is gone, as if all security has vanished, and as if he were walking toward an abyss and, with every further step, would have to fall into it. In a certain sense, this must become an experience of spiritual training. True spiritual training, which is in step with the present, ensures that this experience is not fraught with all manner of dangers.

[ 16 ] This has also been explored in greater detail in the book *How Does One Attain Knowledge of the Higher Worlds?* If one goes through the exercises described there, one arrives, step by step, at a point where one experiences what has just been described—where one feels as if standing on the edge of an abyss. But one has already become so calm in one’s soul that one surveys the situation with a special capacity for judgment now attained, so that what would otherwise dangerously overwhelm the human soul—fear, terror, and horror—does not occur, though not in the form of the ordinary fear and so on of everyday life. One comes to recognize the causes of fear, terror, and horror, but by the time one has reached this stage, one has already elevated oneself to a state of mind in which one can endure it without fear.

[ 17 ] Here again we have a point where it is necessary for the soul to recognize the truth and not fall into error, because the foothold one has in ordinary life fades away, and the soul feels as if it were standing on the edge of an abyss. This must happen so that, out of this emptiness, the full spiritual reality of the world can approach the soul. What is called anxiety or timidity in ordinary life is intensified and amplified by such training just as self-centeredness and self-love are intensified and amplified. They grow, so to speak, into a kind of natural force. And here something must be said that might sound paradoxical. In ordinary life, if we have not mustered a certain amount of courage—if, so to speak, we are cowards—we may be frightened by this or that event. But if we are not, we can endure it. In the realm of soul life described here, fear, terror, and dread approach us, but we must, so to speak, be able not to fear fear itself, not to be terrified by terror, and not to be anxious about anxiety. That is the paradox, but it corresponds entirely to a real soul experience that occurs in this realm.

[ 18 ] Everything a person experiences upon entering the spiritual world is usually referred to as an experience known as the “experience with the Guardian of the Threshold.” I have attempted to describe some concrete aspects of this experience in my mystery drama *The Keeper of the Threshold*. Here it suffices to mention that, at a certain stage of spiritual development, a person comes to know their own inner self—how it can love itself with the power of a natural phenomenon, and how it can be filled with fear and dread at the prospect of entering the spiritual world. This experience of one’s own self—of the intensified inner self that otherwise never comes before our soul—is the shattering event known as the encounter with the Guardian of the Threshold. And it is only through having this encounter that one acquires the ability to distinguish truth from error in the spiritual world.

[ 19 ] It is easy to understand why this experience is called the encounter with the Guardian of the Threshold. After all, it is clear that the spiritual world into which a person enters is always around us, and that the reason a person does not encounter it in ordinary life is simply because they lack the appropriate organs of perception for it. The spiritual world always surrounds us, and it is also always behind what the senses perceive. But before a person can enter it, they must strengthen their “I.” However, as the “I” is strengthened, the aforementioned characteristics emerge. Therefore, above all else, a person must come to know themselves so that, when they can face a spiritual external world in the same way they face an objective entity, they can distinguish themselves from what is truth. If they do not learn to distinguish themselves in this way, they will constantly confuse what is only within them—what are merely their own subjective experiences—with the spiritual worldview, and they will never be able to truly grasp spiritual reality.

[ 20 ] We can see particularly clearly to what extent fear plays a certain role in entering the spiritual worlds by observing those who deny the existence of this spiritual world. Among these people, there are indeed many who also have other reasons for denying this spiritual world. But a large proportion of those who are theoretical materialists or materialistically inclined monists deny this spiritual world for a specific reason that is quite evident to the expert on the soul. In this regard, we must now emphasize that the human soul life is, in a sense, twofold. The soul contains not only what a person is usually aware of, but in the deep recesses of the soul’s life, things are taking place that cast their shadows—or their light—up into ordinary consciousness. But ordinary consciousness does not reach down to them. We may harbor hatred and love, joy and fear and agitation in the hidden depths of the soul without carrying these emotions into our conscious life. Therefore, it is entirely correct that a particular manifestation of hatred from one person toward another—which plays out in consciousness—may be caused by a love that is actually rooted in the depths of the soul. There may be sympathy—deep sympathy—in the deepest recesses of one person’s soul for another. But because this person also has reasons—of which they may not even be aware—they numb themselves to this love, to this sympathy, and delude themselves into believing they feel hatred and antipathy.

[ 21 ] This is something that reigns in the depths of our soul, so that it can look quite different in the depths of the soul than in what we call the conscious mind. Thus, states of fear and anxiety can exist in the depths of the soul without the person being aware of them in their ordinary conscious mind. A person may harbor that fear, that dread of the spiritual world—because they must cross the abyss that has been described before entering it—in the depths of their soul, yet remain completely unaware of it in their conscious mind. Indeed, fundamentally speaking, all people who have not yet entered the spiritual world but have acquired an understanding of it experience, to a certain degree, this dread, this fear of the spiritual world. Whatever one may think of this fear and anxiety that lie at the bottom of the soul—they manifest more strongly in some and more weakly in others. And because the soul could be harmed by this, human beings are protected by the wise design of their nature from being able to look into the spiritual world without further ado, so that they can have the experience with the Keeper of the Threshold only when they are ready for it. Otherwise, they are protected from it. That is why we speak of the experience with the Keeper of the Threshold.

[ 22 ] Now we can observe that people with materialistic or monistic views, while they know nothing of this experience, nevertheless harbor this fear of the spiritual world in the depths of their souls. A certain aversion lives within them toward the abyss that must be crossed. Materialists and monists overcome this fear—this anxiety rooted in the soul regarding the spiritual world—by devising their theories and denying the spiritual world; and this denial is nothing other than a numbing of their fear. This is the true explanation for materialism. As unsympathetic as it may sound, it is evident to the connoisseur of the soul that in a gathering of materialistic monists—those who deny the soul or the spirit—there lies, at the very bottom of their souls, nothing but fear of the spiritual world. One might scoff and say that this particular timidity is the root of materialism. But even if one scoffs, it is nonetheless true. In materialistic writings and worldviews, the spiritual researcher recognizes, peering out from between the lines everywhere, the fear and dread of the spiritual world.

[ 23 ] However, what appears in ordinary life as materialism—that is, the state of mind that exists when a person is a materialist or a monist with materialistic tendencies—can also be present when a person attains a certain spiritual insight through specific practices. For one can undergo certain exercises within one’s soul. One can also progress from a more or less pathological state of mind to a more or less spiritual perception, but this does not necessarily lead to a true understanding of the nature of the spiritual world. In a certain sense, one can carry over into the spiritual world what has just been characterized—that which defines the materialistically minded person in the ordinary world—something akin to fear of the unknown. One can carry something over even without grasping the connection—something that is immensely widespread in ordinary life: the complacency of thought, the complacency of feeling.

[ 24 ] Fear is related to complacency, to clinging to habits. For why does a person fear a change in their circumstances? Because they are complacent! This complacency is related to fear. Just as we described earlier, on the one hand, what is sometimes the cause of hatred, so too can it be said of fear that indifference and complacency are related to it. But one can carry this complacency up into the spiritual world. Now no one should object that the people to whom we are about to refer reveal nothing of fear or complacency, for this, again, is the characteristic feature: the ordinary state of mind is unaware that these things are rooted in the subconscious. When a person carries fear up into the spiritual worlds—after having already developed to the point of recognizing the spiritual worlds—a spiritual aberration arises that is of extraordinary importance to note: the tendency toward phenomenalism.

[ 25 ] People who succumb to this tendency become—to put it bluntly—ghost-hunters rather than spiritual researchers; they become obsessed with a penchant for phenomenalism. That is to say, they want to perceive the spiritual worlds in the same way that the sensory worlds can be perceived. They do not wish to perceive spiritual facts or spiritual beings, but rather something akin to a being that the physical eye can see; in short, they wish to see ghosts instead of spirits. The aberrations of spiritualism—though this is not to say that all spiritualism is unjustified—are entirely based on this tendency toward phenomenalism. Just as the ordinary materialist of everyday life wants to see only matter everywhere and not the spirit behind matter, so too does the person who applies the same mindset—which, at its core, is also present in materialism—to the spiritual worlds want to see only spirits condensed to the point of appearing ghostly.

[ 26 ] This is one dangerous extreme of error that can arise. It must be said that this tendency to elevate the ordinary field of consciousness into the supersensory field of consciousness is, to a very large extent, present even among those who are full of appreciation for a spiritual world—who would even like to see evidence provided for a spiritual world. But the error lies precisely in the fact that they are willing to accept only such evidence that falls within the realm of phenomenalism—that everything must be condensed to the point of the ghostly. Here we encounter what was referred to at the beginning of our present discussion as numbness, or powerlessness, in the face of the spiritual world. While powerlessness in ordinary life is a state akin to sleep or dreaming, in relation to the spiritual world it means insisting on accepting only what resembles the things of the ordinary world—and thus one is powerless in the face of the spiritual worlds. For one demands that evidence be provided that is to be understood entirely in terms of the nature and characteristics of the ordinary world. Just as one brings sleep into the ordinary world when one becomes powerless, so too does one become powerless in relation to the beings and processes of the spiritual world when one brings into the supersensible world that which is merely an extract of the sensory realm.

[ 27 ] Anyone who is a true researcher of the spiritual world is also familiar with those realms of the spiritual world that become so dense as to take on a ghostly quality, but they know that everything that reaches such a state of density is merely what is dying off and withering away in the spiritual world. So, for example, when something is brought to light with the help of a medium as the thoughts of a deceased person, we are dealing only with what the deceased has, so to speak, left behind. We are not then faced with that which passes through the gate of death, traverses the spiritual world, and reappears in a new earthly life; then we are not dealing with what is present in the individuality of the deceased person, but with what is in the shell, what is cast off, like the woody parts of a tree, or like the shell of a shellfish, or like the skin of a snake that is shed.

[ 28 ] Thus, beings of the spiritual world are constantly shedding such shells, such useless things, and these can then be made visible and perceptible through mediumship—but precisely as unrealities. The spiritual researcher knows, however, that he is not dealing with unrealities. But he does not succumb to the error of thinking that the phenomena described are something fruitful, something sprouting and growing, but rather something dying and withering. And it must be emphasized right away: While in the realm of the sensory world one is dealing with something that must be discarded when faced with an error—something that must be eliminated as soon as it is recognized as such—one does not deal with error in the spiritual world in the same way. Rather, there, error corresponds precisely to what is dying off, to what is withering away, and the error consists in regarding what is dying off and withering away in the spiritual world as something fruitful or significant. Thus, even in the lives of ordinary people, error is what one discards. In the spiritual world, error arises when one regards what is dead or dying as something sprouting and fruitful, by considering what is cast off by the deceased as destined for immortality.

[ 29 ] Just how deeply even the finest minds of our time have become entangled in this kind of phenomenalism—and are willing to accept only such characteristic proofs—we can see once again in the case of a thinker who has written many insightful things about the world and who has now written a book on these various phenomena of parapsychology. I am referring to Maurice Maeterlinck and his book *On Death*. There we read how he is always inclined to acknowledge a spiritual world, yet is inclined to accept as evidence only what appears within phenomenology. And then he fails to realize how he is attempting to make that which can never appear within phenomenology appear within it. He then critiques the phenomena—very astutely, very elegantly. But he observes that, fundamentally, none of this means anything special, and that the human soul after death does not display any particularly profound vitality, behaving as if clumsy and groping in the dark. But because he is willing to acknowledge only this specific kind of evidence, he fails entirely to recognize spiritual research and instead remains stuck. And we see how the possibility of error arises in someone who would like to acknowledge the spiritual world but cannot do so because he demands not spiritual research but ghost research, and refuses to turn to what reality can offer. His latest book, in particular, is extraordinarily interesting from this point of view.

[ 30 ] Thus, in the tendency toward phenomenalism, we find one extreme of the possibility of error in spiritual research. The other extreme of the possibility of error is ecstasy, and, fundamentally speaking, the truth lies between phenomenalism and ecstasy—or at least it can be attained by understanding both. But the path to error lies both on the side of phenomenalism and on the side of ecstasy. We have seen what state of mind leads to the mere desire to accept phenomenalism. It is fear, terror—which a person simply does not admit to himself, which he seeks precisely to suppress. Because he shrinks from abandoning all the sensible and taking the leap across the abyss, he clings to the sensible, demands the ghostly, and thereby arrives only at that which is dying, at that which is killing itself. That is one source of error.

[ 31 ] The other power of the soul, which is strengthened through the exercises often described here, is self-love, or self-awareness. Self-love has as its opposite pole “losing oneself.” This—forgive the expression; it is admittedly a radical choice, but it does describe what is at stake—“finding pleasure in oneself”—is only one side of the coin. The other consists in “losing oneself to the world,” in surrendering, merging, and feeling at ease in the other, and the corresponding intensification of this self-centered loss of self is ecstasy in its extreme form. This is the bringing about of a state in which a person can, in a certain sense, say that they have detached themselves from themselves. But they have only detached themselves from themselves in such a way that, in this state of being outside themselves, they actually feel the well-being of their own self most fully.

[ 32 ] Now, when the connoisseur of the soul traces the mystical development of the world, he finds that a large part of mysticism is based on the phenomenon just described. No matter how great, how powerful, how profound, and how significant mystical experience may be—and no matter how much mysticism can bring these qualities to light—the potential for error in ecstasy is fundamentally rooted in the incorrect development of the human being’s mystical sense. When a person strives to go deeper and deeper within themselves, when—through what they often call the deepening of their inner life—they strive, as they say, “to find God within themselves,” this God whom the person finds within is often nothing other than their own ego, elevated to the status of God. In the case of many mystics, when they speak of the “God within,” we find nothing other than the ego elevated to the status of God. And mystical absorption in God is sometimes nothing other than absorption in one’s own beloved ego—namely, in parts of one’s own ego that one does not penetrate with full consciousness—so that one surrenders to it, loses oneself in it, becomes beside oneself, and yet remains only within oneself. Much of what we encounter as mysticism reveals how, among false mystics, love of God is often nothing more than self-love in disguise.

[ 33 ] The true spiritual researcher, who on the one hand must guard against bringing the external sensory world into the higher worlds, must also, on the other hand, guard against the other extreme: false mysticism and losing one’s composure. He must never confuse love for the spiritual essence of the world with self-love. The moment he confuses the two, the following occurs—as the true spiritual researcher who develops correctly can observe. Just as the person drawn toward phenomenalism sees, as it were, only the dregs, the self-destructive aspects of the spiritual world, so too does the one who surrenders himself to the other extreme see not spiritual facts and entities, but only their individual parts. In the spiritual world, he does not what one who contemplates the flowers of a meadow does, but rather what one does who cuts off, chops up, cooks, and eats what grows in the field. The comparison is indeed strange, but entirely accurate. Through ecstasy, spiritual realities are not grasped in their wholeness, not in their totality, but only in what benefits and nourishes one’s own soul—what it can spiritually consume. Essentially, it is a consumption of spiritual substance that develops within a person through ecstasy. And just as one does not come to know the inner essence of the things of this sensory world by eating them, so too does one not come to know the forces and beings of the spiritual world by entering into ecstasy merely to set one’s own self ablaze with what does one good. One merely arrives at a certain understanding of one’s own self in relation to the spiritual world. One lives only in an intensified sense of self, in an intensified self-love; and because one takes in from the spiritual world only what one can spiritually consume—what one can spiritually “eat”—one forfeits that which cannot be treated in this way, that which lies beyond what can be enjoyed through ecstasy. But that is the greatest part of the spiritual world. As a result, the mystic in a state of ecstasy becomes increasingly impoverished, and we see how the mystic, ascending into the spiritual world through ecstasy, truly revels in feelings and sensations that repeat themselves within him. Some descriptions give the impression that what one senses is not an objective portrayal of the conditions of the spiritual world, but rather the revelling of the person who provided the description in what he depicts therein. Many mystics are, in fact, nothing more than spiritual gourmets, and the rest of the spiritual world—which does not appeal to them—is not meant for them.

[ 34 ] Once again, we see how concepts transform as we ascend from the ordinary world into the higher worlds. In the ordinary world, if we concern ourselves only with our own concepts, we become poorer and poorer. Our logic becomes poorer and poorer. Eventually, we can no longer find our way, and anyone who knows the facts can correct us. In the ordinary world, we counteract this impoverishment precisely by expanding our concepts. In the spiritual realm, the counterpart of ecstasy leads to something else. For by taking in realities within ourselves—and not something unreal, but only individual parts after we have selected what is appropriate—we gain a view of the spiritual world that is tailored only to ourselves. We carry ourselves into the spiritual world, just as, on the other hand, in phenomenalism, we carry the sensory world into the spiritual world. It will always be possible to demonstrate that anyone who arrives at ecstasy—and thereby at a false worldview—is proceeding from an unhealthy power of judgment, from a logic of facts that is not comprehensive.

[ 35 ] Thus we see how the spiritual researcher must avoid the two extremes that present him with all manner of sources of error: phenomenalism on the one hand, and ecstasy on the other. And to avoid these sources of error, nothing will be better than for the spiritual researcher to cultivate, in particular, a state of mind that enables him—when he wishes to enter the spiritual world—to actually be present in that spiritual world and to observe it calmly; but then—since one cannot always be in the spiritual world as long as one is in the physical body, but must also live in the physical world—to strive as much as possible in the physical world to perceive the facts of life with a sound mind, without indulgence or insincerity.

[ 36 ] To an even greater extent than usual, the spiritual researcher must possess a sound sense of fact and a genuine sense of truthfulness. All enthusiasm, all imprecision—which so easily glosses over what is real—is detrimental to the spiritual researcher. While this is evident even in everyday life, it becomes immediately clear in the realm of spiritual training that anyone who allows themselves even a little leeway with regard to inaccuracy will realize that it is only a very small step from inaccuracy to lies and untruthfulness. Therefore, the spiritual researcher must strive to feel a sense of obligation not to compromise in any way the absolute truth that already exists in everyday life, nor to mix anything with it, for in the spiritual world, any such mixing leads from one error to another.

[ 37 ] In those circles that wish to have anything to do with spiritual research, the justified view should prevail, above all, that an outward hallmark of the true spiritual researcher must be his truthfulness, and that the moment a spiritual researcher shows that he feels no obligation to verify what he says, but instead makes statements about the physical world that he cannot possibly know, he ceases to be a credible spiritual researcher and can no longer command full trust. This is connected to the very nature of spiritual research itself.

[ 38 ] Time and again, however, whenever the fields of spiritual research and spiritual science are discussed—as they are today—it must be pointed out that the following judgment is unfounded: “Only the spiritual researcher can look into the spiritual world, and those who have not yet become spiritual researchers cannot perceive, understand, or grasp it.” — Now, as you can see from the descriptions in the book *How Does One Gain Knowledge of the Higher Worlds?* and also from the explanations in my *Secret Science* that in our present age, to a certain extent, every person—regardless of their circumstances in life—can become a spiritual researcher if they only make the necessary effort. Nevertheless, it is also possible to understand the descriptions of the spiritual worlds without being a spiritual researcher.

[ 39 ] It is not necessary to be a spiritual researcher in order to understand the messages from the spiritual worlds, but rather to discover them and to explore what exists in the spiritual worlds. Just as one must be a painter to paint a picture, but need not be a painter to understand it, so common sense is sufficient for understanding the messages from the spiritual worlds. To explore the spiritual world, a person must be equipped with the higher organs of perception. But when what is discovered in this way is translated into the concepts of the ordinary world—as has often been attempted here—then common sense, provided it is open-minded enough and does not allow any obstacles to stand in its way, can grasp what spiritual research brings to light. One might say that spiritual research is like what grows beneath the earth and is found only when one drills into the earth like a miner. What is found there can arise only in the form in which it exists within the earth, as it thrives in the layers of the earth that are covered by the upper ones. On the surface of the earth, which is bathed in sunlight every day, what lies deep below could not come into being or flourish. But when we make an opening and let the sunlight in, the sun can illuminate what lies below, and everything can appear in the sunlight. So it is with what is gained through spiritual scientific research: it can only be brought to light when the soul has transformed itself into an organ of perception for the spiritual world. But once it is translated into the concepts and ideas of ordinary life, then human reason—provided it is healthy enough for the task—can, as it were, illuminate and understand everything like spiritual sunlight. Thus, the entire field of spiritual science is accessible to sound human reason. Just as the art of painting is not intended solely for those who are painters themselves, so too are the insights into the spiritual worlds not intended solely for the spiritual scientist himself—even though images can arise only through painters, and the spiritual worlds can be explored only by spiritual scientists.

[ 40 ] Anyone who believes that what comes from the communications of the spiritual researcher cannot be understood by ordinary reason does not correctly perceive the nature and essence of human thought. Human thinking contains faculties that are thoroughly connected with the nature of the higher worlds. And it is only because people are accustomed to applying their concepts exclusively to ordinary sensory phenomena that they believe their ordinary capacity for judgment vanishes when they are confronted with supersensory facts. But those who develop their powers of thought can train them to grasp what spiritual research brings to light. One must simply not form a certain preconceived notion from the outset about how to comprehend something. This arises from the contemplation itself. If one forms a specific idea of how one is supposed to comprehend, then one once again succumbs to a serious error in relation to spiritual research.

[ 41 ] This is the second point of view that stands out particularly strikingly in Maurice Maeterlinck’s new book. For it is particularly striking that a mind whose gaze is directed toward the spiritual world—a mind that has made subtle observations about various things and has even attempted to dramatize the mysteries of the spiritual world—should prove so inadequate at the very moment when it is supposed to approach true spiritual science. For he demands a certain kind of understanding: not the kind that arises from the things themselves, but the kind he dreams up, which he believes must serve as proof. Thus the highly peculiar situation arises that Maeterlinck finds only a certain belief at all in what theosophy or spiritual science has to say—and indeed has to say with a certain external justification, not with a merely internal justification that would be akin to a certain primal belief of humanity—when it speaks today of repeated earthly lives. He calls it a belief because he cannot see that this is not a matter of belief, but of knowledge. Thus, he finds that the evolving aspect of the human being, which passes from life to life, cannot be proven, because he has a specific conception of what constitutes proof.

[ 42 ] In this regard, Maeterlinck resembles certain other people. Until recently, there was a kind of belief—a certain geometric-mathematical belief—that could be summed up in the phrase “squaring the circle”; that is, people sought, through a certain kind of mathematical, computational, and constructive thinking, to find a square whose area or circumference would be equal to that of a circle. This task was, so to speak, an ideal toward which people have always strived: the transformation of a circle into a square. Now, no one would doubt that there can be a square exactly as large as a circle. In reality, of course, such a square may well exist. But it is impossible to demonstrate, using mathematical constructions or computational methods, what the diameter of a circle would have to be in order to be equal to a specific square. In other words, mathematical reasoning is not sufficient to prove what actually exists—what is physical. Countless people have worked on squaring the circle until more recent mathematicians provided proof that it is not at all possible to solve this problem in this way. Today, anyone who still attempts to solve the problem of squaring the circle is considered someone who does not understand mathematics in this field.

[ 43 ] Just as such people have approached the problem of squaring the circle, so does Maeterlinck approach what he seeks to prove. One can understand the spiritual world; one can grasp that what is brought to light through spiritual research is real. But if one demands a specific kind of proof based on prejudice, one cannot prove this spiritual world any more than one can mathematically prove the squaring of the circle. It would therefore have to be pointed out to Maeterlinck in response to his arguments that he is seeking to square the circle in the spiritual realm. Or one would have to show him how the concepts through which he seeks to prove the spiritual world vanish when a person passes through the gate of death. How could one possibly prove the spiritual world with such concepts, which are drawn from the sensory world! But Maeterlinck stands on such ground, and it is extraordinarily interesting that, when he surrenders to his sound intuition, he cannot help but acknowledge repeated earthly lives. It is extraordinarily interesting how he speaks about what constitutes knowledge—what he calls a belief—and I would like to read his own words here, in translation:

[ 44 ] “... For there has never been a faith more beautiful, more just, more pure, more moral, more fruitful, more comforting, and, in a certain sense, more plausible than theirs. It alone, with its doctrine of gradual atonement and purification, gives meaning to all physical and spiritual inequalities, all social injustice, and all the outrageous injustices of fate. But the goodness of a faith is no proof of its truth. Although six hundred million people adhere to this religion, although it is closest to origins shrouded in darkness, although it is the only one that is not hateful and the least insipid of all, it should have done what the others did not: provide us with irrefutable evidence. For what it has given us so far is only the first glimmer of the beginning of proof.”

[ 45 ] In other words: Maeterlinck is trying to square the circle in this field. It is precisely in this example that we see so clearly and distinctly how someone who can think only in this way—that the salvation of spiritual research lies in one extreme, in phenomenalism—as all his arguments demonstrate—cannot at all grasp the significance and the true nature of this spiritual scientific research. There is much to be learned from a figure such as Maeterlinck. What we must learn is that the truths which must fit into the development of the human world, when they first appear, are truly in the situation that Schopenhauer characterized with the words already mentioned here: Throughout the centuries, poor truth has had to blush at the fact that it was paradoxical—to Maeterlinck it even seems “incredible”—and yet it is not her fault. It cannot take on the form of the enthroned universal error. There it looks up with a sigh to its patron god, Time, who beckons victory and glory to it, but whose wingbeats are so vast and slow that the individual perishes before they arrive.

[ 46 ] Such is the course of humanity’s spiritual development. And it must be both interesting and instructive to us that even the best among us today—indeed, precisely those people who wish to connect many aspects of their inner lives with a spiritual world—are unable to grasp the essence of true spiritual science. But precisely when it comes to identifying the path leading to these two potential errors, they stumble—because they do not dare to leap across the abyss, because they wish to rely on the ordinary world within phenomenalism. Or, if not that, then—even if they do not realize it—they seek an elevation of the sense of self through ecstasy.

[ 47 ] The point is not merely to become familiar with the nature of individual sources of error, but rather to understand what humanity must avoid if we are to recognize and eliminate the sources of error in spiritual science. However, one thing may perhaps emerge from the way in which today’s discussion has been conducted: spiritual research must know the sources of error. For the temptation is always present in the soul to stray either toward phenomenalism—that is, to stand spiritually powerless before the spiritual world—or toward ecstasy—that is, to attempt to enter the spiritual world with inadequate spiritual faculties and to perceive only isolated fragments rather than coherent facts. The path lies between these two extremes. One must be aware of the possibilities of error. But because they can arise at every step into spiritual life, one must not only be aware of them but must also overcome them. For the results of spiritual research are not merely research findings; they are also victories—the overcoming of errors, the overcoming of previously held views, the overcoming of self-will, and more.

[ 48 ] Anyone who delves deeper into what has been attempted here only in outline form will notice that, even though the potential for error lurks so terribly everywhere we venture to explore spiritual life, we must nevertheless overcome error time and again. They will notice that spiritual research not only corresponds to an insurmountable longing for what human beings need to ensure the security of their lives, but that its goal, for those who view its development with understanding, must certainly appear to the sound human mind as an attainable one. To summarize intuitively what today’s lecture was intended to convey, I would like to say: “Despite all resistance, despite all the things that may stand in the way of spiritual research as enemies, anyone who delves into the results of spiritual scientific research with sound judgment can feel and sense that these results of spiritual research penetrate

through heavy spiritual obstacles,
through the confusion of spiritual darkness,
to solemn clarity,
to luminous truth!