The Rudolf Steiner Archive

14. How Can We Know About Supernatural Worlds?

Ladies and gentlemen!

[ 1 ] The subject of today’s lecture stems from a question that is understandably often asked by those who have perhaps heard about spiritual science and spiritual research in a superficial way and, due to the habits of thought and modes of imagination that happen to prevail in broad circles today, cannot conceive of how it is possible to gain insights into the supersensible worlds. It has often been emphasized here that the perspective behind such objections is most understandable to those who themselves stand on the ground of this spiritual research. And one may well say: If there were cause for surprise here, one would be more surprised if the views held by spiritual researchers were already finding acceptance in wider circles today than if they were provoking the greatest possible opposition in the very broadest circles—which they simply must do. The very height of contemporary culture and the entire development of external economic life over the past centuries make this seem understandable. It has, after all, been emphasized many times that spiritual science fully acknowledges at all times what natural science and the scientific approach have contributed to the culture of humanity as a whole. But the very height of this scientific approach depended on the fact that the spirit of the age—if one may use that term—had, for a time—and “a time” in the course of human development is indeed long, lasting centuries—been drawn away from devotion to the spiritual world. It is precisely for this reason—because human beings allow themselves to be inspired to think by the sensory world—that they adopt habits of thought and modes of imagination that are unaccustomed to perceiving the spiritual world. But it is not merely that this alone leads to opposition to spiritual science; rather, deeper causes are at work here, so that today’s topic—“How can human beings know anything about supersensible worlds?”—seems quite appropriate.

[ 2 ] Well, the very first thing to note is that, through self-knowledge, a person comes to recognize themselves as a supersensible being and comes to understand their own supersensible nature. And there is much in human soul life that is connected to the cultural achievements of the present and of all humanity, which stands in the way of true self-knowledge. In their inner life, human beings are, so to speak, never truly alone with their soul, and they must manage to be completely alone with their soul if they wish to recognize it in its deepest essence. For, in a sense, they are never truly alone. Yet there is a certain kind of solitude that arises when a person enters a state in which they do not make use of their external limbs but surrender them to the gravity of the earth, and command the memory and the intellect bound to the senses to come to a standstill—this is, after all, the case every day when they fall asleep. And regarding the spiritual-scientific assertion or insight that, in his physicality, once a person has fallen asleep, he offers nothing that can explain what ebbs and flows in the soul until awakening—that the processes of the sleeping body do not make any of what occurs in the soul during sleep comprehensible— —this, scientific knowledge will unreservedly admit in a relatively short time, [and] that upon awakening, the soul’s content submerges into the physical body [and thus]—like the inhaled air when one breathes in—becomes a part of one’s own body. The same is true of falling asleep, since the content of the soul emerges from the body, so that between falling asleep and waking up one is in fact dealing with an entity that is separate from the physical body, which offers no means of observing it. One can therefore say of the sleeping soul that it is, in a certain sense, alone—that is, it is not connected to the external world through the intellect, the senses, and memory, as the waking person is. But in normal life, the sleeping person loses consciousness upon falling asleep; and so one must say that [since] the person is alone, he is not in a position to observe the soul dwelling within the body. This is also what makes true self-knowledge impossible for the ordinary person.

[ 3 ] But the question arises: Can a person nevertheless attain this self-knowledge? – It will help us if we consider another state of mind, not to draw an analogy, but to visualize the reality of the state of mind between sleeping and waking. So [what follows] is not meant as an analogy, but as a means of understanding, [to] point to what is actually the case: This is the “state of mind” of the current year. In spring, the uplifting, joyful natural world—the plant world—springs forth. We see it sprouting in spring, flourishing in summer, and dying off in fall, with the exception of perennial plants; during the winter months, it is taken back into its womb, so that it remains imperceptible as plant growth. Let us now suppose that human beings were such that, when spring arrives, they would be able to attain a different kind of consciousness—that their consciousness would be subdued and they would be more unconscious as summer approaches, only to awaken again once nature has withered and died; that is to say, if on that side of the Earth where it is summer, human consciousness were to fall asleep, then he would never be able to gain any insight into the sprouting and budding plant world. What covers the Earth during the summer would be, for a human being—or for a being endowed with his characteristics—an unknown world that would not affect his senses—a supersensible world.

[ 4 ] Now, in human life, we are faced with something that actually behaves this way. For those who explore [this] more deeply, it is not merely an analogy, but reality. And—what stands before us in this way is, in fact, the very essence of human nature itself. For what is this sleeping human being, as he physically presents himself to our senses? Although he is outwardly and substantially different from a plant, inwardly he has the value of a plant that has risen only to the level of life, but not to consciousness—not even to an animal level—that is, as it were, a plant under different conditions of life. As a plant-like being, he appears to us in relation to certain forces that must act upon him [just] as the earth appears to us in summertime, when the sun, in a certain way, conjures up the blanket of vegetation with its forces of warmth and light. We also know that we then sink into sleep when, after a day’s work, our forces have become exhausted. And we also know that the purpose of sleep is for the depleted forces to be conjured up anew from the depths of life—the very same process we observe in the cosmos. And one will gradually come to see, once one has moved away from old habits of thought, that bedtime is not merely an analogy but, in the true sense of the word, the “summer of the soul” for human beings. Human beings experience this “summer of the soul” between falling asleep and waking up. [...] During the waking state, the productive forces of the plant kingdom are depleted by the day’s work and the exertion of the human being’s powers of thought and soul. Is not the human waking state akin to the fall and winter seasons, when what has been produced during the summer is stripped away from the surface of the earth? The waking hours are [a person’s] soul’s winter. This is not merely an analogy. It is very easy to maintain the external analogy in such a way that one finds similarities; that is very easy to do. But that would be an external way of looking at things.

[ 5 ] One must look at this from within: In fact, if a person wants to observe themselves, they cannot come to themselves in the same way [during their “summer season”] as they do, for example, during the “winter season”; rather, when they enter their “summer season”—if they were able to observe—they lose the very forces that must be at work to bring forth a sprouting, budding life; [and] then a person actually enters a state of unconsciousness. He is in fact unable to observe his soul, but [it is as if] he were to lose his consciousness in the spring and [regain it] only in the fall. Thus, one can say that self-knowledge is possible only when the hidden side of one’s existence can be revealed.

[ 6 ] Now, of course, it is natural to consider the peculiarities of the soul’s wintertime—that is, the waking state—a little. This state is such that the soul is filled with feelings, intentions, ideas, ideals, and so on. If we take a broad view of all this, we must say that human beings actually experience it only halfway, only partially. For let us consider human thinking [outside] the overall framework of human soul life: How does a person experience this “soul winter” when they seek to fulfill their task in relation to life in the outer, physical world? As for their world of thought—for everything that their thinking provides—they are interested only to the extent that they ask: What do these thoughts represent of external realities? What value do these thoughts have as images of reality? That is, after all, the primary interest. And the entire life of the soul is permeated by the desire to develop this aspect of the soul’s life above all else. Another question is much less relevant to this so-called normal inner life. It is this: Can’t thinking have a value other than merely depicting something, presenting something as if in a mirror? Anyone who would grant thoughts only [this] value—and most people do—is in the same position as an artist who, when looking at a work of art, sees only what it depicts. Yet something quite different is at work here than [mere depiction], [and this] takes place within our soul. Art would not hold such great significance for humanity if it did not constantly propel the soul forward, if it were not something that sinks into the soul like a seed, so that the soul experiences things that carry it to something entirely different from what it was before contemplating works of art. It is not a one-sided, pedagogically pedantic view of works of art [that is the driving force], but [something] like a law of human development in relation to art. Anyone who wishes to accept thoughts only in relation to what they depict is like a person who looks at a work of art solely in terms of what it depicts externally. But the soul is accustomed to accepting thoughts in such a way that they possess the value of the image. The truth value is sought everywhere in whether the reality value is captured by the thoughts. Thoughts that do not aim at this are largely denied their value. Philosophy, for example, has every right to do so; it must act in this way. But one must ask whether these concepts truly correspond to reality, whether they truly refer to something.

[ 7 ] But there is another way to gauge the value of thoughts: as an inner means of self-education for the soul. It could be, for example, that they do not at all correspond to reality in their representation, but that they prove to advance the soul inwardly. Such thoughts—or those used in this way—are worth considering when the soul truly wishes to educate itself toward self-knowledge.

[ 8 ] It has often been said here that when one practices in this way, it is referred to as meditation, concentration, or contemplation. What does all this mean? Nothing other than bringing about a state of the soul that is similar to the state of sleep—a state in which the soul, with regard to its external faculties, does not make use of them, does not receive stimuli through the senses, but rather, through strong willpower—through “negative attention,” one might say—rejects what everyday life offers.

[ 9 ] This state, however, differs radically from the state of sleep in that the soul remains fully conscious of itself and yet brings a thought into consciousness; the soul is then focused on this thought, and is thus in a state of concentration or contemplation. This state is not easy to achieve. Long, careful, systematic practice is necessary to bring about this state. Yet it causes a completely new life to dawn within the soul. Once it has borne fruit, the soul feels that powers which previously lay dormant have now awakened. Therefore, it does not matter what the meditator focuses on; in principle, what matters is that this concentration on the content is undertaken with all one’s effort. It is like when a person exercises their muscles externally through physical activity; they become stronger as a result. These exercises do not concern the ordinary powers of the soul. But because the aim is to draw out other powers from the soul—powers that, for example, seek to make the soul more energetic and active, such as the part of the soul that is only faintly present in waking daily life—it is not the content of thought that matters, but rather that the soul is doing something and, through this activity, awakens within itself something that is indeed present but lies dormant. Through this training, the soul demonstrates that it can exist on its own, independent of its physicality—similar to the state of sleep, yet radically different.

[ 10 ] Why is the state of sleep unconscious in ordinary life? Because inner life is so weak, so “subdued,” that the soul’s power cannot perceive this inner life. But when these powers are awakened, the soul becomes aware of itself, even when it turns its attention away from its physicality. And now one experiences that the soul can indeed consciously face its “summertime,” for now one truly experiences the content of thoughts in a completely different way. In everyday life, they are like grains of wheat that the farmer harvests in the field in the familiar way. They develop only to a certain degree when they serve as food. When they are harvested, they are no different from those used for sowing.

[ 11 ] Such are the ordinary thoughts that a person experiences during their “winter” period: A person uses these thoughts to provide the soul with spiritual content, to fill the soul—just as grains of wheat are used to provide nourishment. But the thoughts used for meditation and concentration are like grains of wheat that are sown, from which dormant powers are drawn forth and brought to sprout and grow. Human beings have come to know only a part of the effectiveness of their thoughts. Through meditation and concentration, we cause thoughts to sink into our soul life, so that they take on an entirely different essence; they sprout and grow, and the human being then experiences consciously what he or she otherwise experiences unconsciously during the soul’s summer: a new world, the so-called imaginative world. Indeed, the fruit of his effort appears before his soul. Although he has not raised the “soul’s summer” to consciousness in quite the same way as in normal life, he has caused that which descends into the unconscious during the “soul’s summer” to sprout and bud, just as a person might cause vegetation to grow from individual grains of wheat during the winter. But it is necessary for a person to get to know the other side of their being, in which the soul-being appears in its fruitfulness, in its sprouting, budding life. Otherwise, the thought functions only as an image; now it germinates and sprouts when we treat them—the thoughts—not merely as images, but sow them and truly bring them to germination. Then, through self-knowledge, one truly brings about the soul’s summertime. And just as [we] hypothetically [assumed] earlier that consciousness had vanished in spring and now an unknown world is [experienced] in summer, so [now] the soul surveys a world unknown to it. In fact, the very essence of our soul has the ability to bring forth what would otherwise remain unknown, provided it does not stop halfway but, so to speak, uses thoughts as seeds. Meditation, concentration, and contemplation are nothing other than bringing to fruition—through thoughts and feelings (for this can also be done with them)—that which otherwise lies unknown, thereby creating a new world.

[ 12 ] Now, many things always work against a person when he strives to make this world productive in his everyday life. It is rooted in human nature that, when a person enters the “summer of the soul”—that is, when they wish to be a capable being in life and in the ordinary sciences, which corresponds to the “winter” of the soul—they possess a certain state of mind precisely in their thinking. This must not be lacking in their outer life; otherwise, they would prove to be incapable. And we must have trust in thinking. We truly cannot get by in the world if we do not have, as a starting point, that trust—that is, the belief—that our thinking can guide us; in other words, that we can entrust ourselves to our thinking. If there were truly worlds in which this were possible—please imagine such a state of affairs—it would be so unsettling that it would rob us of all competence. Human beings depend on this trust, this faith, no matter where their thinking may take them. But everything has its light and dark sides. Where we need the light, however, the dark side does not come into consideration.

[ 13 ] Human beings train their thinking through the sensory world; it is their teacher. As a result, they do not place their trust in thinking as such, but rather in a form of thinking that finds its foundation in the external sensory world. As a result, from the very beginning, human beings do not become accustomed to having in their thinking an instrument capable of guiding them through all areas of their lives. Consequently, they lose their sense of security; they become uncertain when confronted with something that does not come to them in ordinary everyday life. And as a result, they are [disenchanted] with spiritual science. This is understandable; as I said, there is nothing to be said about it. On the contrary, our contemporaries cannot make sense of it. But this stems from the fact that this thinking is trained in the sensory world. It is as if a person were trying to enter a world that is not the sensory world. Now, a person becomes proficient precisely through the sensory world, which trains their outer thinking. It is therefore understandable that when realms arise that lie in a different sphere than what is [experienced] in outer thinking, that confidence in their own thinking—the confidence they feel—begins to waver in the face of the supersensory world.

[ 14 ] And there is another factor that likewise characterizes the winter of the soul—ordinary wakefulness. We know, after all, that the habits of thought of the past centuries have [given rise to] materialism—or, to put it more nobly [though] misusing the term, monism. This worldview has value only for the life that can be observed externally. Spiritual science shows that the spirit lives behind all of this, and [that] one need only delve deeply enough into things to find the spirit behind it all. If the soul seriously educates itself as [has] just been characterized, then it reaches a point that constitutes extraordinary spiritual experiences, and which reveals why human beings turn to materialism, monism, and so on. Then—as is written in my treatise *How Does One Attain Knowledge of the Higher Worlds?* —when one feels a new world springing forth, there comes a certain moment when the soul must feel toward this new world something similar to what it feels toward this sensory world. In contrast, it is necessary that when a person observes things, they be able to develop, with the fullest freedom of will, the capacity to direct their gaze and also to divert it again. Just consider for a moment [what it would be like] if a person were unable to turn [his gaze] away at will, but were instead so fascinated and compelled that he could not look away from the things of the sensory world. A soul would be in the same situation if it were simply forced to let [that which] appears before it through its exercises remain there. For this is not [merely] like turning one’s gaze away in the sensory world—that is not enough. One must take into account that the spiritual researcher is capable of erasing, of wiping out, everything that has been brought about as new content of the soul. This corresponds to diverting one’s gaze in the sensory world.

[ 15 ] In this respect, the spiritual researcher is radically different from those who experience hallucinations, visions, and delusions, which they stubbornly insist on taking for objective realities. The spiritual researcher must not allow this to happen at all. He must know that he has merely conjured up shadows, and that he must make them vanish again from his spiritual vision. It is part of reaching a certain level to possess the ability to erase these [images] again. Yes, this erasure—for one can see how greedily the soul clings to its delusions—is among the very, very most difficult things. Why? Because not only do the forces we have spoken of grow, but so do others that are otherwise only weakly present. For one force intensifies with the intensification of the other—that is, self-centeredness, self-love, the self-love of everyday life, which grows like a force of nature. In everyday life, self-love is overcome by moral strength; but lightning and thunder are not. Just as with natural elements and forces, this intensified self-love—this self-centeredness—manifests itself in our soul. Therefore, the development of the soul leading to spiritual research must also enable the human being to overcome this intensified self-centeredness within themselves—which now exists within them like a natural force—[so] that the soul feels as if it were at the mercy of this force. Ordinary strength is not sufficient for this.

[ 16 ] And here [occurs] an event that [has] a shattering [effect], because it is one of the first. It may [occur in a different form], but it has always been [rightly called]: the approach to the gates of death. The person feels as if what he has hitherto called his “self,” his “soul,” were struck by a bolt of lightning, as if it were being taken from him. Everything to which he believed himself connected, everything he was—all of that has now been torn away from him. His individuality becomes like a being outside himself; he stands face to face with it, as he has hitherto stood only before an external object. This is easy to describe, but to experience it—it is one of the most shattering things that can be experienced, for it is as if the ground were vanishing beneath one’s feet. Everything that he has thought, felt, and sensed up to this point, he lets go of. This leads him—if he has acquired the ability to remain upright even as he feels detached from everything—as if over an abyss; this intensifies a feeling that he had previously experienced only to a small degree [and] that he must now come to know: the fear of the unknown.

[ 17 ] The spiritual world is always there, but it is something so unknown to human beings that, at that moment, they face it as if it were nothing. This creates fear. However, no one should believe that they will be harmed if they have proceeded properly in the sense described; it is part of self-education that they are simultaneously strengthened and fortified to endure it—they are at the same time fortified to endure it. Usually, they are protected from it. We speak of a “Guardian of the Threshold.” But what does not reign in consciousness is not, for that reason, entirely absent from the soul. The soul is a dual entity. In its depths lies often something quite different from [what] it is aware of. For example, we may consciously hate another human being, and that hatred may serve as a veil for love. Because we do not live out that love, we numb ourselves. It is not merely in Faust’s nature that there are two souls; rather, every human soul is, in fact, one that possesses two. Now, the following becomes clear to the connoisseur of the soul: When a person is living an ordinary life, they seek to achieve stability and certainty by repressing the subconscious—namely, fear. For the spiritual researcher, nothing else arises than what is always present in the depths. They are always there. When the time comes that this is overcome, the person enters the spiritual world. But if it rises to the surface and yet does not become conscious—that is, if it merely knocks, so to speak—and the person bridges over it—.

[ 18 ] How is he able to do this? By denying the spiritual world; in doing so, he pushes the spiritual world down, so that materialists and monists, deep in their souls, fear the spiritual world and thereby numb themselves with their materialism. [It is] a very strange phenomenon, yet it is true that materialism is based on an unrecognized, unnamed fear. Certainly, it is uncomfortable when the connoisseur of the soul asserts—as is often the case in monist gatherings—that this is [therefore] because the adherents are tormented by fear and anxiety. Materialism and timidity present themselves in this way to the true observer.

[ 19 ] And this is essentially how it is: What makes a person strong in relation to the outer physical world—the fact that they train their thinking through the outer world, thereby gaining confidence in their thinking and thus overcoming fear as well—is precisely what prevents them from entering the supersensible world. That is why, if a person wishes to enter the supersensible world, it is so necessary that they be able to freely develop a duality within their soul: on the one hand, to rise to states that exist in the supersensible world, and on the other hand, to forget them again or be able to push them back—that which constitutes his field of observation in the supersensible world—when he returns to the physical world. Otherwise, he becomes a dreamer, a false mystic, or anything else—but certainly not a spiritual researcher—if he mixes that in. He must keep these things separate with a strong soul, while at the same time relating them back to the supersensible, because there, in the supersensible, lie the reasons for everything sensible. That is what defines the spiritual researcher. And that is why it is so necessary that, through the summer and winter seasons, what sleep veils be brought to his consciousness. If he did not do this, he would constantly give rise to the fear that was just alluded to.

[ 20 ] When a person enters the spiritual world in this way, they do not merely perceive the spiritual-soul realm in general, but rather things, facts, and beings that are as distinct and separate from one another as the things and facts in the physical world. Yet it is precisely this fact that is least forgiven; the spiritual researcher is not forgiven for perceiving a reality of manifold spiritual entities.

[ 21 ] A prominent intellectual figure such as Charles Eliot of Harvard University emphasizes that he finds a spiritual aspect behind the physical and sensory, and that human beings are always distinct from the body. But when the spiritual researcher then says that, following the self-education described, one comes to see individual spiritual beings that constitute a cosmos, just as physical things constitute a physical cosmos, this is rejected. If one were to say to Charles Eliot, when observing the plant world—or looking at every plant or every substance in the laboratory—“This is nature, this is nature, this is nature”—nothing would be achieved by doing so. At most, people forgive spiritual science for acknowledging the existence of spirit in general, but not for acknowledging individual beings and things in the spiritual world. But just as the world is specified through human sensory organs, so too are there beings in the spiritual world—beings that, admittedly, have no physical body—and thus the spiritual world stands before the human being once he has recognized it.

[ 22 ] As I said: What is necessary for observing, for recognizing, indeed even for merely acknowledging the spiritual world—for accepting it—is the personal experience of the spiritual world. And when [a person], through a shattering experience, brings about what has just been described—that everything that was otherwise his “I” is set apart—then what is otherwise mute, silent, and slumbering becomes active and alive within him. What constitutes the spiritual-soul being—which helps build the body, connects with the hereditary line, and encompasses what comes from father and mother as well as what one acquires through one’s own efforts—is seen as detached; and that is what is so shattering and significant. But when one has awakened to a new being, it is this being that passes through birth and death, not what one has otherwise regarded as one’s self. What one now experiences is what spiritual science refers to when it speaks of that which passes through repeated earthly lives.

[ 23 ] And now humankind has the prospect of resolving the question of infinity in its very being in concrete terms; otherwise, it faces only the unfathomable line of infinity. [It recognizes] how it continually builds up new lives; infinity is composed of individual earthly lives. Insight and knowledge regarding these worlds can only be attained through the path described. And anyone who believes they can arrive at truly satisfying knowledge by another path is simply mistaken; they are searching along the wrong path. This then very easily leads to a desire to avoid the shattering soul experiences that have been described. Many people desire [such] supersensible insights that actually belong to the realm of the sensory. As a result, they do not attain a true understanding of the truth. And one can see how difficult it is for people today to arrive at the truth, even among the very best of our time. One can only adopt Schopenhauer’s standpoint, where he says that truth initially appears paradoxical, and that this has always been its fate. — Today, people take a similar stance toward spiritual science as they once did toward Galileo, Giordano Bruno, and Copernicus; it must be understood that spiritual science today necessarily faces the same resistance. Giordano Bruno—who said that the blue vault of the sky was not a boundary, as had previously been assumed. Through this realization, natural science took a tremendous step forward at that time. Now spiritual science is in the same position: [There is] no more a boundary at birth—or, for that matter, at conception and death—than there once was [the] blue boundary of the sky. Just as Giordano Bruno showed that, when one becomes aware of this limitation of human cognitive capacity, one looks out into infinity and [into] infinite worlds embedded in this firmament of infinity, so [must] the spiritual researcher [do] now. This is how one gains insight into the supersensible worlds. But it is difficult for our contemporaries. They understand that these repeated earthly lives actually shed light on the trials and tribulations of human existence, and at the same time, our contemporaries recognize how this view gives us courage, strength, and confidence, because we are not annihilated but will find ourselves again in future earthly lives. Some of the very best among us today recognize this. But because they expect the evidence to be presented in a different way than described here, they fail to understand precisely what is happening in this field.

[ 24 ] A contemporary thinker who has indeed demonstrated how he strives everywhere to penetrate the supersensible realm—and who has also shown through some of his writings just how seriously he takes this—has recently, among other things, addressed what has been referred to here as the doctrine of repeated earthly lives: Maurice Maeterlinck—a passage I will now quote verbatim. He has no idea where the evidence lies, which is why he calls it mere belief. Spiritual science has nothing to do with belief; rather, just as Copernicus’s worldview has to do with every form of belief—because it is science, like Copernicanism—it does not encroach upon belief. But Maeterlinck regards it as a belief, and the doctrine of repeated earthly lives—which he claims is the same as what is known in certain religious doctrines as the transmigration of souls—though that is not what is meant here, but rather [precisely] the doctrine of repeated earthly lives—is, he says, alive. In his book *On Death*, Maeterlinck writes:

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 mental inequalities, all social injustice, and all the outrageous injustices of fate. But the goodness of a faith is no proof of its truth; even though six hundred million people adhere to this religion, even though it is closest to origins shrouded in darkness, even though it is the only one that is not hateful and the least insipid of all, it would have had to do what the others did not: provide us with irrefutable evidence. For what it has given us so far is only the first shadow of the beginning of a proof.

[ 25 ] It should be noted that, first of all, spiritual science has nothing to do with religion; rather, like Copernicanism, it is a worldview. No religion that truly understands itself is shaken by spiritual science. But Maeterlinck shows in his new book—in which, among many other things, he also addresses this modern spiritual research—that he does not understand how it arrives at its conclusions in a manner entirely different from external cognition. Therefore, he finds that no evidence has been provided. – What, then, should this evidence consist of? Precisely in such measures, which must be set aside when a person enters the worlds described. Therefore, Maeterlinck faces these facts in the same way that, until recently, people faced the problem of squaring the circle. Until recently, the attempt to actually transform a circle into a square of equal area proved untenable almost every year. The Paris Academy has concluded that this can lead nowhere: Everything must go in the trash! They do not have the time to calculate all of this, and even if the truth were to be found in the process, it would assert itself on its own. Today, anyone who still preoccupies themselves with squaring the circle would be called a dilettante, because it has been proven by mathematical means that it is impossible to master. And so one must say that it is utterly nonsensical today to seek to square the circle. The humanities, however, will be able to prove much more quickly that one wants nothing more than to seek to square the circle in another field.

[ 26 ] One must therefore not only examine the questions as discussed in “How Does One Attain Knowledge of the Higher Worlds?”, but also properly understand the “how” of the proof. Otherwise, it is like trying to square the circle. One may indeed already find the doctrine of repeated earthly lives “more comforting, more just, and more plausible,” yet still be unable to bring oneself to accept it. However, one will bring oneself to accept it once one realizes that one cannot speak this way merely to a researcher of the spirit. These things must indeed be investigated by the spiritual researcher, but once they have been investigated, they are such that the physical mind can understand them; it is not proof by means of the physical mind that applies here, but proof akin to understanding a painting without being a painter oneself. The spiritual world is such that one can compare its nature to that of the physical world: underground, the mines and the ores could not form on the earth’s surface, where the sun directly touches the ores. Thus, the results of spiritual research will not be discovered through ordinary thinking and ordinary science. For this, the powers of the soul that have been described are necessary. But when these are explored and then described, what would happen if sunlight were to shine down into the depths of the earth onto the ore—which would only then be able to reveal its radiance and beauty—can come to pass. In this way, the physical mind can truly understand what spiritual science brings. But it must be explored by the soul that has been trained as described. [That] which has been understood in this way forms a power within the soul—not merely knowledge—for this knowledge immediately transforms into a very specific certainty within the soul that gives it inner stability. It thus bears fruit that manifests itself in a very specific way of thinking, a very specific way of feeling, and a very specific way of willing toward oneself and the world.

[ 27 ] Today we have seen abundantly what the soul must overcome in order to enter the realms where the spiritual world manifests itself. But even if it is [through] darkness, it offers what can be expressed through the word of feeling, with which today’s lecture can conclude:

As the soul struggles through
the darkness of the mind,
it ultimately arrives at solemn clarity,
at luminous truth.

Question and Answer

Question: Is the term “Maja” related to the Indian goddess or to Buddha’s mother?

[ 28 ] Rudolf Steiner: One can certainly piece this together [in this way], but it can only truly be sustained if one is clear about [how] the method described in my book *Christianity as a Mystical Fact* is always followed in the narration of such things. Anyone who views the world materialistically sees the ordinary course of events as a succession of cause and effect; they will regard the things that follow one another as equivalent. Those who delve into the realities notice that at certain points in the world’s development something special occurs, while at other points it proceeds in such a way that it appears to lack “deeper points” or “significant events.” In a figure as unique as the Buddha—a highly significant being—we perceive not only the ordinary significance but also an entirely different one within the context of the world. In the scriptures that understand what really matters—that is, those that do not proceed in the same way as modern science—there are indeed references to the deeper forces with which the deeper soul essence is connected, so that in the case of the Buddha, in a deeper sense—though this does not, of course, deny his earthly mother— [it is the case] that he emerged, as it were, from a fatherly soul impulse out of Maya, the great illusion. The paternal origin: the active aspect of his being; Maya: that which serves to illuminate his being. Question: Could the speaker perhaps describe some higher experiences that one attains through the natural sciences, perhaps concerning Halley’s Comet?

[ 29 ] Rudolf Steiner: You can’t say everything in a single lecture. And the harrowing experience that was described is certainly not a sensory perception. Anyone who delves into spiritual science will find that there are concrete descriptions of facts and entities in the spiritual world. One need only open my *Secret Science*; it contains answers to this very question in abundance.

Question: The next question is one that [I hope] will lead to more lectures on this topic: Are clairvoyance and clairsentience anomalies, or are they evidence of the further development of our senses?

[ 30 ] Rudolf Steiner: [It has] not been clearly defined what is meant today—and also in earlier lectures—when speaking of clairvoyance. [It is] not so much [a] state as [the] goal of the soul’s self-education. Above all, spiritual science aims to carry out this self-education in such a way that the human being is able to do what is necessary—such as, for example, the extinguishing of imagination—so that the spiritual world may appear only later. This extinguishing cannot be accomplished through anomalous reflections of inner qualities, hallucinations, visions, or delusions. The content of spiritual science can, in fact, consist only of that which is attained through the path described—in which the soul always controls itself and is capable of doing so. Then, however, one might just as well speak of “clair-sensing” and “clairvoyance,” because none of these terms apply here anymore. Strictly speaking, it is then not clairvoyance, nor is it seeing, but rather a different psychological process. But because imagination [functions] like [a] mental image for perceiving the physical, imaginative perception can still be sufficiently described as clairvoyance. And [thus] one can also speak of “clair-feeling.” Clairvoyance, however, is a more accurate term than ordinary feeling.

Question: Can the deceased make their presence known by knocking, sighing, making furniture rattle, and so on?

[ 31 ] Rudolf Steiner: [That] can certainly happen, but without being truly grounded in genuine spiritual research, one can expose oneself to the very, very worst errors. Only the correct methods, as [they] have been described today, lead to what progresses from incarnation to incarnation—[that which] is conscious and alive—and not to what, as it were, peels away or flakes off from [the] spiritual nature; that can give rise to such things; [so] that, when one bases one’s understanding on this, [certain things] appear entirely justified—[such as] what Deinhard reports [in his] *The Mystery of Man*. As a result, [one believes one has] proof [that] behind the sensible realm there is a spiritual realm. But only true spiritual research proves that which dissolves. Here Maeterlinck failed, because he is unfamiliar with this realm, easily mistaking what is withering and dying for what is active and becoming. [This is] very easily possible. Here one rules out the false, [which] is not so readily possible in the spiritual world; there it is entirely possible to mistake one thing for another; therein lie most errors—not because one is dealing with hallucinations and delusions.

Questions: Do you have to say the name when chanting a mantra? Are the dead always with us when we remember them?

[ 32 ] Rudolf Steiner: [Answers not recorded.]

Question: If you hurt a dead person, do they feel the pain?

[ 33 ] Rudolf Steiner: [That is] possible in many cases.

Question: What percentage of Theosophists—or, as they are now called, Anthroposophists—truly attain knowledge of the supersensible worlds? What do the average Theosophists achieve?

[ 34 ] Rudolf Steiner: If we do want to answer this question, we must say that there must first be some people [who] explore the supersensible world. Just as [there must be] painters [if] pictures are to be painted. But just as the appreciation of paintings is not limited to painters, the fruits of spiritual research are not limited to spiritual researchers either. I emphasize this almost every time I speak, saying that through unbiased thinking—if one does not put obstacles in one’s own way—one can reap the fruits [of it] through reflection. Thus, the percentage of spiritual researchers and those who enjoy the fruits cannot be calculated, just as it cannot be calculated how many people make boots and how many wear them and know whether they fit. So there are many souls who know what they gain from spiritual research. In a certain sense, anyone can become a spiritual researcher if they proceed as described in “How Does One Attain Knowledge of the Higher Worlds?”

[ 35 ] What the Theosophists achieve depends, of course, on each individual; and the purpose of spiritual research is not to establish general averages, but to provide what each individual can discover. Reaching an average standpoint is, after all, of very little benefit even in ordinary life, and in spiritual research, it is such that one cannot speak of it at all—but rather, that each person can attain certainty and strength through it. One would be very surprised if, as stated at the beginning, doubts were not present. But someone comes along with a few preconceived, rigid concepts and believes they know that this contradicts spiritual research: Only a precise examination of the matter can help here. Most objections come from those who are unfamiliar with the subject. Anyone who knows anything about it does not raise these objections, for example, regarding what happens as the effect of previous earthly lives. Surely one could prove that heredity exists, and science has indeed proven it. Paungarten writes about this in his book, *Werdende Wissenschaft*. Incidentally, the cause of heredity lies in the spiritual realm. Why is the person standing before me alive? Because he has a lung inside and air outside. [The same applies to the] traits [one] inherits from one’s father. Someone else might say: [There was a man who] hanged himself fourteen days ago—I cut him down, which is why he’s alive. That, too, is correct. Both are right. [I have already given lectures on the topic] “How Does One Refute Spiritual Science?” The spiritual researcher is already familiar with the possible points of view. Perhaps [it is] precisely by immersing oneself in the various points of view that one arrives at the truth.