The Rudolf Steiner Archive

8. Truths of Spiritual Research

[ 1 ] Ladies and gentlemen! Since I have had the opportunity on several occasions to speak in this city about topics related to spiritual research, it is not inappropriate to address the important question of where the truths of this research originate and where the sources of error lie. This must indeed be recognized as a matter of great importance, particularly with regard to supersensible research, since guidance regarding truths and errors in every area of human life is of undeniable importance, and since—as is easy to see—in a field that leads one so deeply into uncertain regions where error is easily induced, such guidance is of particular necessity. Spiritual research, after all, leads us into those realms from which arise the most important questions and mysteries of life—initially, not so much those questions and mysteries of life that arise from the various fields of science—which are actually, insofar as we are dealing with science in the ordinary sense of the word—are far more remote than the questions and mysteries of spiritual research, which, so to speak, confront us at every step we take in life. In a sense, these mysteries and questions of life can creep up on us at every moment of our existence. If one surveys what spiritual science—albeit from a broad perspective—can offer to life, this initially boils down to two important questions of life. One question is encapsulated in the meaningful term “human destiny,” while the other is embodied in the term so closely connected with all longings—with all longings, all doubts, and all hopes of humankind: the term “immortality.” Not that spiritual research is limited to answering the two questions or mysteries mentioned, but the broad field of this research interests a wide audience above all because its findings converge into an appropriate answer to these questions.

[ 2 ] Human destiny! What questions, what mysteries lie within these words. Here we have a person born into this world. From the indifferent environment that surrounds him, we can predict that hardship and misery will accompany his existence. And when we see them grow up with only limited intellectual abilities and emotional qualities, we can say that they may become a rather unproductive member of human society and that, in many respects, they may be a burden to themselves and a torment to their own soul. On the other hand, we see a person enter life in such a way that, from the very beginning, they are surrounded by caring hands. We may see certain very special gifts and abilities begin to emerge in him early on, and we can predict that he may spend his life in happiness, that he may become a useful member of human society, that he may experience his life with enthusiasm and inner bliss—and all of this prompts us to ask the question of “why,” a question that external science is so unable to answer.

[ 3 ] The other question is that of immortality. It arises in our minds from life itself, though initially in a self-centered way: that human beings desire to live on after this life based on their hopes, their longings, and whether their life has been fulfilling or unfulfilling. This question is often raised out of selfish desires; but it need not be so. It can approach us as objectively and scientifically as any other scientific question. We see this particularly clearly when we consider how, in the course of the nineteenth century, more and more people had to break with the old traditions and customs—people who not only harbored doubts about the continuation of human activity after death, but who even believed they had the certainty that, with death, human consciousness closes forever, and the life of the soul, so to speak, ceases within it. Such people were often spiritually aspiring beings; they told themselves: I do not lay claim to a self-centered afterlife; I can resign myself to the thought that what I have achieved will be passed on to humanity at large after my death. – Selfless devotion to their life’s work and the happiness they had experienced was their aspiration as the gate of death closed before them.

[ 4 ] It is precisely in the face of such a worldview that the question of immortality confronts us in a truly scientific way, for we can indeed say: Is it compatible with everything we otherwise know as the laws of existence—that is, that the human being truly approaches a conclusion in its work and striving when the gate of death closes? Perhaps for ethical reasons one might agree with such a view, but from the perspective of the laws governing the world economy, the situation is different. We need only have a little sensitivity to what is created in the world through human souls, and we will say to ourselves: In the course of human life, it is precisely through the powers of the souls themselves that essentially substantial facts are created—facts which, since souls are individual, take on an individual character. Such individual creations, as they emerge from the human soul, we cannot—without having to admit that the global economy is flawed—simply see them merge into the general stream of human development, for we must feel this: The best, the noblest, the most important things that our soul can achieve are individual; they are such that only that one soul can achieve them within itself. We may give much to the community—but our very best would vanish entirely from the world if human existence were to cease, if the gate of death were to close. Regardless of our wishes, our hopes, and our longings, we are confronted with the necessity of reflecting on the imperishable in human nature in contrast to all that is perishable.

[ 5 ] This is the question that arises in our souls, but if this question is to be answered, it requires a science that goes beyond the sensory realm, beyond external, physical nature. For nothing can give us an answer as to why this or that fact comes to us when we enter life. Physics and the natural sciences cannot answer the question of fate. They must remain indifferent, when observing their facts, to how these facts affect human hearts and souls. The “why” cannot fall within the realm of external science, nor can the question of immortality, since science depends on concepts of the intellect that are bound to the instrument of the brain. What it can observe perishes with death, vanishes with death; if it cannot penetrate the [gap in the transcript], then we have no hope of seeing the question of immortality answered by it.

[ 6 ] However, the way in which attempts are currently being made [through spiritual science] to find answers to such questions is by no means enjoying widespread popularity at this very moment. Prejudice upon prejudice stands in the way of spiritual scientific endeavor; and perhaps the lectures themselves will reveal the reasons why, in broader contemporary circles, there is so much resistance—one might even say not merely theoretical resistance, but outright hostility—toward what presents itself in a scientific manner as spiritual research, seeking to solve the mysteries of life described above and to uncover many other related matters.

[ 7 ] Today we will discuss how human beings can come to truly look into the worlds from which the answers to such questions arise. The ordinary faculties we use to perceive the external world are insufficient to penetrate this realm; and if human beings were not capable of developing faculties other than the ordinary faculties of cognition, there would be no way for them to penetrate such realms. All questions converge into one: Is there a possibility for human beings to develop powers of cognition other than those employed by [external] science—powers that are thus limited to the observations of the senses and the intellect bound to the brain? If human beings were merely sensory beings, such powers could not possibly exist. Only those who acknowledge that the human sensory body—that which can be seen with the eyes and grasped with the hands—is accompanied by and permeated with another entity, a supersensory entity, can come to accept the existence of such faculties; only those who acknowledge that the human sensory being is permeated by a supersensory one. And, strictly speaking, a very ordinary observation—one that is so rarely made because people do not consider what they experience every day to be worthy of special attention—already provides logical certainty that this is the case.

[ 8 ] The mystery of death, however, remains fascinating to human beings because it confronts them unexpectedly, suddenly, and terrifyingly; but that which occurs daily in the same way—the transition between waking and sleeping—is paid less attention to; nothing approaches the human being there that stirs uncertainty within him, because in this state of transition, the same thing occurs again and again for him. But for those who wish to engage in a deeper observation of life, it is precisely this state of transition [between waking and sleeping] that takes on special significance. Here we might say: Would it not already be logically absurd to think that what takes place in the soul—passions, drives, and desires; longings and hopes; images and ideas—from morning until evening—that all of this sinks into nothingness upon falling asleep and is recreated from nothingness upon waking? That would be absurd; yet no external sensory observation, no intellect bound to the brain, will ever find in the sleeping human body that which surges and ebbs within the soul during the waking state.

[ 9 ] Thus, at least initially, the hypothesis can be put forward that there is a spiritual element in human nature which leaves the body during sleep and re-enters it upon waking; when the human physical body is abandoned by the soul, this inner truth is drawn into spiritual worlds during sleep. When sleep is over, the spiritual aspect returns from the spiritual world into the physical body. This cannot be observed with the intellect, but it becomes evident if one thinks logically. Now, of course, such an assumption can only hold true—and only be convincing—if one can grasp that invisible element which leaves the human body during sleep, if one can prove its actual reality. How this happens is what we shall now consider.

[ 10 ] Let us observe how a person presents themselves to our gaze when they are asleep. We become unable to move our limbs. All the senses fade away; the body is overcome by a heaviness, and the strength it possesses while awake is drained from it. As we fall asleep, we see, so to speak, our body slipping away from us. But we also perceive how, with this slipping away of physicality, consciousness fades; how it slowly dims and is subsequently enveloped in complete darkness and gloom. But if the spiritual-soul aspect—which permeates the physical body during the day—does indeed exist, then we must say that this spiritual-soul aspect is not capable of developing inner forces during sleep, not even forces sufficient for it to possess an inner awareness of itself. It is so weak in normal human life that it cannot become aware of itself unless it has the instrument of the physical body. If such a spiritual-soul aspect exists—one that is real enough to feel that the body is slipping away from it—then we must say: This entity is of such a nature that it needs the instrument of the [body] to develop consciousness and to bring forth powers. And when left to itself, it is not strong enough to develop an inner life; it can do so only when it opposes the resistance of physicality.

[ 11 ] However, this does not mean that proof of its existence has been provided. Such proof will only be provided when human beings are able to strengthen this inner aspect—which otherwise makes use of physicality—to such an extent that it can develop an inner life and consciousness even without the physical body. Even for the proof of the spiritual-soul aspect, everything depends on the human being being able to develop a spiritual life without the aid of this external physicality or sensory perceptions. What would such a spiritual life entail? It would entail something similar to sleep and yet distinct from it. When we fall asleep, we feel how inner life ceases, how consciousness fades away. It fades because the external sensory impressions fall silent. We would have to be able to artificially evoke this moment at will—that is, to silence the external sensory impressions and yet bring about a state that is not unconsciousness, but rather consciousness. Thus, this state is—or would be—similar to sleep in that we bring all external senses and the brain to a standstill, yet unconsciousness does not set in. The researcher of the mind must bring about this state within himself.

[ 12 ] We can best understand this by comparing it to another state that is similar and yet entirely different. If a person is capable of developing spiritual and soul forces beyond their physical body and perceiving them in a spiritual world, then they are indeed entering a world that lies beyond the intellect bound to the brain, beyond the senses; then a supersensible world speaks to them within their very being, just as the senses speak to their being when they make use of the senses. Through this, a person would become a spiritual researcher; and if such a world could be experienced in this way, it would signify humanity’s penetration into the spiritual world, and it would provide proof that everything outwardly visible is based on a spiritual reality. But if this is the case, then this spiritual reality must always be present; the visible world that surrounds us must be founded on a spiritual reality. The only reason it does not reveal itself is that we cannot perceive it. Our relationship to the invisible spiritual world is like that of a blind person to colors.

[ 13 ] Now there is a state that is not considered by spiritual science, that is not applied by it, but which can nevertheless serve us in the present to understand the true state of spiritual science—namely, the state commonly referred to by the term “mediumship.” Please do not misunderstand me; the human being as a medium is not, as the spiritual researcher might wish, the means to reach a certain conclusion. How does human nature become a medium? The mediumistic experience is brought about when the ordinary expressions of the soul—the life of the will and the life of feeling—are suppressed by certain processes, so that the person is placed in a sort of sleep-like state. Under certain circumstances, however, human nature can be induced—without the person’s knowledge, without their conscious awareness of the processes taking place—to make expressions, even to speak and write. Thus, spiritual expressions may occur that can be attributed only to a being whose intelligence has descended. Nor should one recommend what is known as the cultivation of mediumistic qualities. After all, these are present in some individuals even without special training.

[ 14 ] Let us consider this once more: What, then, happens to a person who, in this way, becomes a medium for spiritual manifestations? His own soul life is suppressed, completely extinguished—that is, [his] conscious soul life; he is unaware of these revelations. We find there something that can otherwise come only from the conscious soul. We can say that we see it there as that which is the everyday expression—as it were, spreading like a veil over the subconscious soul activity, which in turn is linked to the physical body and then manifests itself when the conscious soul activity is suppressed. Thus, soul activity lies dormant in the depths of human nature; we can bring it to the surface by rendering conscious soul activity entirely passive.

[ 15 ] This is not the path of spiritual science; however, it shows us not only that wherever there is consciousness, there is soul activity, but also that the spiritual-soul aspect is present in human nature and reveals itself when we suppress consciousness. This process, which produces the medium, is exactly the opposite of what must occur for the spiritual researcher. While for the medium soul activity—that is, consciousness—is suppressed, for the spiritual researcher it is precisely this consciousness—which heightens and strengthens inner, active soul activity—that must be strengthened; and this is achieved by the person evoking intense soul processes, processes usually referred to as “concentration of thought,” “meditation,” or “contemplation.” These processes, which we shall explain in more detail, unfold within an inwardly active spiritual life, and they ultimately bring about certain states in the soul that represent three stages—three stages through which one ascends to full entry into the spiritual worlds.

[ 16 ] Please do not take offense at the words used here. The words used here are not used in the same sense as in everyday life, where they are not welcome. Therefore, you should understand them only in the sense that I will explain later.

[ 17 ] We can describe these three stages as imagination, inspiration, and intuition. All three stages are attained through an elevation of the spiritual life, through an inner strengthening. When a person lives in ordinary, everyday life alongside nature and other people, they receive their impressions through the senses and then process them with the intellect. In this state, the person is primarily concerned with ensuring that what they imagine, perceive, and feel corresponds to external reality; they form such ideas that they can attribute the mark of truth to them through correspondence with the external world. As long as they remain in this state, however, an inner, spiritual life cannot develop. A certain degree of concentration, meditation—that is, absorption and deepening—must take place.

[ 18 ] So that we do not get bogged down in abstract discussion, we should briefly and as precisely as possible describe how such an inner arousal of higher spiritual powers is achieved. [Please] refer to [my work] “How Does One Attain Knowledge of the Higher Worlds?” What is described in that book will be briefly outlined here. Concentrated thinking proceeds in such a way that one first attempts to free oneself from all external sensory impressions, developing strong powers to shield the eyes from colors and light. All sensory impressions must be suppressed so that one becomes completely inattentive and disinterested in the external world. Then, through special training of the will, one silences everything that has been stored up as memories over the course of one’s life. One tries to free oneself from all worries and suffering; in a word, one tries to be within oneself. You can also find out from my book *How Does One Gain Insight into the Higher Worlds?* what exercises of the will are necessary to attain such a state.

[ 19 ] It is possible to strengthen the will to such an extent that external sensory activity and even the intellect fall silent. Just as one can learn in ordinary life to turn one’s attention away from objects, so too can one, by strengthening the powers of the will, arbitrarily suppress all external impressions. One has then, on the one hand, brought about a moment similar to falling asleep; however, one must not lose consciousness. This is achieved by using the power of the soul to take into one’s own [soul] images that one has prepared for oneself. The best such images are those that correspond to no external events or external things.

[ 20 ] We will now present such a special mental image to our souls—one that is just one of many thousands used by the spiritual researcher, but which can illustrate the fundamental principle: Imagine that you have two glasses in front of you, one filled with water and the other empty. Let us imagine that he pours some water from the full glass into the empty one; yet this would not cause the full glass to become emptier and emptier, but rather fuller and fuller—and the more we pour out, the fuller it becomes. It is an absurd idea, but it can serve as a symbolic illustration of something that presents itself to us as a mystery in life. What is meant here is what we call love. Does the loving soul—which lovingly gives to those in need, which, so to speak, gives from itself what is contained within it—become emptier as a result? No, what is given out of love always makes us fuller and richer. That is the nature of love: that we give of our very being and yet become ever richer and richer.

[ 21 ] If we imagine this quality of love using the symbol of the water glasses just described, we have done something similar to what we do in geometry. Consider a circular medal; we can set it down and still imagine a circular shape afterward. So one can be completely unfamiliar with the substantial content of a thing, but one can grasp the circular nature of it in one’s mind’s eye and depict it, while completely disregarding what one actually has before one. Within the circle, everything related to the circular nature becomes clear. Symbolically, one has extracted something that is inherent in this thing. This is how one conceives of things in geometry, and this is also done in spiritual science in a higher sense.

[ 22 ] One extracts from the experience of love—which contains within itself something so mysterious and unfathomable that no human being can fully comprehend it—the quality of ever-increasing richness, and one directs the soul toward the symbol. One can also form other symbols. Such symbols are better suited to the meditative life than images taken from the external world; in the latter, the soul remains attached to the external world. But when we choose symbols that have nothing to do with the external world, we can live within ourselves, detached from all that is external. We live there when we direct all our soul’s powers toward that one symbol for a while. We can also use other symbols for such inner work, and the spiritual seeker must perform this exercise a thousand times. Wisdom as such is not luminous, but we can imagine it as a shining sun and surrender to the symbol, which expresses the idea of inner warmth. In doing so, we can experience something similar to what we feel when we mentally visualize wisdom. We can also imagine love as the warmth spreading throughout the world.

[ 23 ] Many, many examples of such symbols could be cited. Now, someone might easily come along and say: “So the spiritual researcher wants to give himself over to ideas that are not true!”—But they are not there to represent something external; that is not their purpose. Rather, they are meant to awaken the life of the soul within. Whereas in everyday life, or when engaged in scientific pursuits, our soul may contain elements we cannot fully grasp—with our inner life scattered across many things—in meditation we draw all the forces of our soul together and focus them on this single image; this makes it particularly powerful when we strive to remain attached to this image and allow nothing else to enter our soul for an extended period of time.

[ 24 ] To truly carry this out, comprehensive inner practices are necessary, which you will also find in my book *How to Gain Insight into the Higher Worlds*. Particularly effective are moral feelings and impulses of the will, which the soul symbolically brings to mind and to which it surrenders itself with the same love and enthusiasm that are otherwise aroused by things that stimulate us from the outside and make an impression on us. All training in true spiritual research is based in this way on a strengthening of inner life, [in a] gathering of all that is soulful into a single idea; at times one works on this idea. This is meditation. And this meditation rises to contemplation when we are able to dwell for a longer period of time, as it were, in such an inner state of the soul with full vitality, just as we otherwise dwell in a comfortable room with our physical body. When we reach the point where we can just as consciously bring ourselves into such a deliberately induced state of the soul, then we are living in inner contemplation. Through this, that which in human nature does not depend on the instrument of physicality is made inwardly active.

[ 25 ] This provides concrete proof that such an inner, spiritual reality exists, and thus brings us closer to proving that what withdraws during sleep is a real entity—one that is merely too weak to manifest itself in ordinary life, but reveals its inner vitality when we stimulate it through exercises such as those described.

[ 26 ] Once a person has practiced this for a while, the point is reached where—even when they are not deliberately conjuring up such images, not artificially conjuring up these symbols—their inner life is so prepared that it generates such images, as it were, from deep within. This is the crucial moment—it is like a rebirth of the soul’s life—when, without our having to bring them about artificially, we see images upon images rising from the depths of our soul, emerging before us like a second world, a world outside the world.

[ 27 ] But now begins what is important, so that human beings may be led to the truths—and not to the errors—of spiritual research. A world of images rises up from the depths of the soul—a world of images that those unfamiliar with these matters, but well-acquainted with today’s view of such phenomena, will likely interpret as visions, hallucinations, or delusions. Today’s worldview believes that in such matters, which transcend ordinary life, it can perceive nothing but pathological phenomena. Yet the path to the truth of spiritual research lies precisely in the fact that it can arise only from a trained inner life capable of distinguishing between delusions and realities, even in the realm of the soul. Therefore, any genuine training in spiritual research must lead to the point where, at the very moment the described experience occurs, a person who wishes to become a spiritual researcher can make a strong inner resolution—a resolution that will be absent precisely when the state manifests as a pathological condition.

[ 28 ] This can be seen simply by observing everyday life. Many of you will have already noticed how people with a pathological mental state, when they have delusions, are far more convinced of the truth—of the reality of their own ideas—than of the reality of the outside world. It is often easy to dissuade people from a conviction; but in the case of someone whose inner life is pathological, this would be a futile effort. What happens there? Something happens: whatever the person has created before them through the power of their own inner life, they love out of a powerful feeling; they also bring with them in their imagination the longing for it to be reality, and so a world takes shape before them—a world, however, that they themselves have created. As soon as a person accepts such a world as truth, they cannot be a researcher of the spiritual realm. Such a strong resolve is necessary when, through meditation training, the images we call imaginations arise; a strong resolve is needed—one that is directly opposed to such delusions—that says to itself: Everything you feel rising up within you as a world of images, even without your active involvement, is nothing other than a reflection of your own inner life. What you have within you, you have brought forth through your own effort; that is what stands before you. They are nothing but shadows of your own being. – And it is not merely the ability to bring about the emergence of imagination that belongs to the spiritual researcher; more important is the rigorous training of the will in the face of this world—even in the face of images of enchanting beauty—to always hold fast to the fact that they are merely shadows of our own self.

[ 29 ] This mistake is made time and again by those who have not undergone proper training and who, for whatever reason, come to experience a certain inner vision of images: They regard this world as a real world because it can be a beautiful one, because people feel happy in it. The spiritual researcher must be able to renounce this way of thinking. What must develop in the course of training is a strong resolve; and when this resolve itself becomes a kind of meditation—when one repeatedly immerses oneself in this resolve and devotes all one’s soul forces to viewing all of this as shadow images—then this resolve is strengthened, and one gains the ability to erase the imaginative world once more; one can extinguish it through an inner force; then one has reached an important stage in the path of the spiritual researcher.

[ 30 ] What one can achieve there is this: One could say it is comparable to what we call, in everyday life, the forgetting of our thoughts. You know that everything you have experienced remains in your consciousness. How could a person live if all their experiences—pain and joy alike—were always present in their memory? But you know that things long forgotten can be recalled from time to time into the soul. Just as an image from everyday life sinks into oblivion, so too must the entire imagination be pushed into oblivion, into the unconscious, through the strong act of will we have discussed. This requires a strong mastery of the self, for human beings are intimately intertwined with what they have brought forth through their own power. They have achieved a great victory over themselves when they are able to erase everything they have produced on the first stage of spiritual knowledge.

[ 31 ] Only then do we live in our true selves; only then have we developed greater powers within ourselves than before. If we are unable to do this, we know that we are still too weak to truly penetrate the spiritual worlds. Experiencing truths in the spiritual world is only possible if these experiences are brought about through training in spiritual science. Once we have succeeded in this, those images resurface in a completely different way—just as forgotten ideas resurface, but exactly as they were—so, too, do the imaginations resurface, transformed. Before, they were images—like visionary or fantastical images; afterward, they emerge in such a way that we know we are now dealing with a real world, with a supersensible world. Before, they were images; now they are processes that are real, just like the processes of the sensory world.

[ 32 ] Now, one might say that this is precisely the time to give in to self-suggestion. What assurance do we have that things are real if we have become so much in control of ourselves? — Yes, the way we experience things—nothing else can give us assurance—but this is the very same way that provides us with proof of the realities of external, sensory life. There is no other proof! This can best be appreciated by pointing out Schopenhauer’s main error. – One can fully acknowledge a thinker like Schopenhauer even while pointing out his main error. – When he speaks of the world around us existing only in our imagination, he commits this error, for one can indeed distinguish in the world—but only those who distinguish in life—whether something is imagination or reality. Imagine a red-hot piece of iron. You will not burn yourself on it. But if one perceives and touches the actual red-hot iron, one will burn oneself on it. Nothing can prove reality to us except experience. Full experience—this alone provides the proof of reality. It has been said: Why should what appears before the soul not be suggestion, since human beings so easily succumb to suggestions? One can imagine drinking lemonade—there is no reality to it—yet one enjoys the taste of the lemonade as if it were real. – One can admit that, but this is not a matter of a partial experience, but of a full experience. One can experience the taste in one’s imagination, but it does not quench one’s thirst! The full experience—the quenching of thirst—presupposes reality, not imagination.

[ 33 ] Just as human beings can only obtain proof of reality in the outer sensory world through experience, so too can they only acquire the ability to distinguish between reality and illusion in the spiritual world through rigorous training in spiritual science. In the manner described, the spiritual researcher reaches a stage where he encounters a new kind of being, of facts that lie beyond the sensory world. Through a strengthening of the soul life, true spiritual eyes are created within his own soul life, so that he may discover a new world.

[ 34 ] Even with regard to his own life, a person can only come to a sense of reality through this kind of imagination. When a person first forms such imaginations—as have been described—in relation to his own life, when he symbolically envisions this or that experience he has had, when he meditates deeply on his own life up to this point, then this life can appear before his soul in a series of images. If he is then able to master these images—if, precisely by conjuring his life before his soul, he can erase that life—he has won the victory over himself. Just as he [now] sees something external that is real, yet has erased everything connected to his present life—when he follows this process, he arrives at something that belongs to him but not to his present life. There he truly ascends to what we call his earlier earthly lives, and he comes to the realization of his past earthly lives. For this is what spiritual science leads us to: it leads us to our past earthly lives and thereby provides us with proof that our entire life unfolds in repeated earthly lives and, in the intervals between them, in the purely spiritual realm. This idea may be unappealing to the spiritual consciousness, but it is something that will [in the future] find its way into our culture.

[ 35 ] But then the question of destiny resolves itself in a very strange way, because we know that this is not the first time we have lived this life, and we still have many earthly lives ahead of us. Back then, [in previous earthly lives], we ourselves prepared what now determines our destiny. And the question of immortality is properly illuminated when we look upon the gateway of death in such a way that we pass through it, then live in a purely spiritual world, so that—with all that we have acquired—we may reenter a new earthly life that bears for us the fruits of our past lives. Then we do not speak in general terms of immortality, which is composed of one link after another. From the certainty that we see our own life, we gain certain abilities that teach us to understand that one life must be followed by another, and yet another. Thus, genuine spiritual scientific research leads us to the truth, but the right path must be taken in the sense indicated.

[ 36 ] All such insight then leads us further to that stage where we not only behold what has risen up in images, but also acquire the ability to experience things, so to speak, without images: inspiration. Through it, we penetrate to the essence of things and beings, and through intuition—the next higher stage of inner life—we become one with things and experience what lies within things themselves as the spiritually invisible.

[ 37 ] One might respond to such a debate by saying: Yes, if a spiritual researcher enters a spiritual world and, from within that spiritual world, can tell himself how to solve the riddle of destiny—if he can say to himself, “Yes, something imperishable lives within you”—then that applies only to the spiritual researcher. – That is not the case. The truth about this nature of spiritual research must also become clear if it is to become a factor in our culture.

[ 38 ] What does the spiritual researcher gain when he enters higher worlds? He comes to recognize the core of his soul, so that he can say to himself: When my hair turns gray, when my body gradually withers away, a spiritual core weaves within me—one that I feel growing stronger and stronger, one that acquires strength throughout life, then lives in an intermediate life [between death and a new birth], only to come to life again in a new earthly existence. One might say: Only the spiritual researcher can experience this certainty—so what benefit do other people derive from it, who can use only their intellect?—If we wish to understand this, we must realize that everything the spiritual researcher brings is nothing other than the experience of the spiritual world. But an urge and impulse immediately assert themselves within him; namely, to bring down everything experienced in the spiritual world into the concepts of the real world. The true spiritual researcher is not satisfied with his journey into the spiritual worlds until he can clothe what he knows from the spiritual worlds in logical forms—clothe it in such a way that his experience is understandable to all people. And the spiritual researcher will not have certainty about immortality or destiny until he can express his experiences in general ideas and concepts.

[ 39 ] How, then, does he relate to his ideas? He relates to them the same way a painter who is learning to paint—who is learning to handle colors, who is learning everything that belongs to the art of painting—relates to the image he brings to the canvas. What the painter learns is, at first, entirely his own business. But then the painting is before us. Two people can stand before this painting. One may be inclined to spiritualize everything; then he will understand the mysteries that the artist has embedded in the painting. The other would look only at the color combinations in the painting. Just as the painter relates to the painting and is not satisfied until his skill is reflected in it, so does the spiritual researcher relate to his experience once he has conveyed it to others in an understandable way. This painting, if created by a true spiritual researcher, is such that any discerning viewer standing before it can understand it—explanations would only interfere, for the painting must be grasped inwardly. If a person possesses sufficient open-mindedness and free judgment—they can accept it as a mental image, something they can take in and immerse themselves in; they then possess everything the spiritual researcher was able to fathom in the spiritual world. One must be clear about this: there is nothing in what the spiritual researcher incorporates into his painting that cannot be grasped by the intellect, using the tools of sound thinking.

[ 40 ] Everything we need for the vitality of life—everything we need at all—cannot come to us through scientific research, but through spiritual science—through what we take in when the spiritual scientist expresses his perceptions as ideas. This is what is peculiar about it: the spiritual researcher does not [gain] what he needs for his life [through his research], but rather [through] what he can share with ordinary people. Only when the spiritual researcher has made what he has perceived understandable to others does he gain a sense of security in life, orientation in relation to destiny, and contentment. Through spiritual research, one gains insights into the entire cosmos; yet whatever these insights may be, they are of no use to the spiritual researcher if he cannot present them in understandable forms. And nothing can serve the spiritual researcher more than what he can make useful to the non-spiritual researcher. There must be spiritual researchers; and you will see from my book *How Does One Attain Knowledge of the Higher Worlds?* that every human being can reach a certain level of this knowledge. To acquire what the soul needs for security in life, for a joy in life’s work, for the security of its roots in the imperishable—what the soul needs so that a person can face old age with serenity—all of this can be understood through the findings of spiritual research, and in this regard the spiritual researcher gains no more than anyone else; and only then does the spiritual researcher gain anything from his ideas when he has presented them in the forms of common sense.

[ 41 ] This is the truth about spiritual research; this is the truth about the relationship between spiritual research and life, and it must be emphasized that, within this spiritual research itself, the only thing of value is that which can be integrated into life. The spiritual researcher who can live in the spiritual world may see many things—but what he sees there has value only if he is also able to judge it. Some people may indeed attain visions through exercises, even if they do not undergo everything that has been described today as the true path; they may come to see many things—but what value, what significance the things they see have; whether they possess any truth value may remain entirely unknown to them personally. One must first be able to judge what one sees; one must first be able to assess its significance for life. But where does this ability come from? From nothing other than the power of judgment and morality one has already acquired in ordinary life, before entering the spiritual world. Those who possess a moral sense will enter the spiritual world with it and be able to judge things correctly. Those who are foolish or immoral will be able to judge what they see only incorrectly. Therefore, a person’s value is not yet enhanced simply because they are enabled, through various means, to perceive the supersensible. Even the spiritual researcher has value only through the very things that give a person value: sound judgment and moral strength. But what unsound judgment and immorality bring about when the spiritual researcher enters the spiritual worlds with them will become clear to us tomorrow when we discuss the errors of spiritual science.

[ 42 ] One might ask: Well, what, then, are the truths of spiritual research? — Just as it is impossible to list the truths of any other science in an hour, so it is impossible to list the truths of spiritual science in an hour. The aim is to show how a person arrives at truth in spiritual science rather than at error, and how, by developing the powers that lie dormant within—the “spiritual eyes” and “spiritual ears,” to use Goethe’s words—a person creates the capacity to gaze into a spiritual world. Now, one cannot say, “This is a rule as truth; that is a rule as error”—one can only say that the human soul will mature along this path to see truths and not error. Today we should speak of this path. Tomorrow, the sources of error will be clarified. Today’s and tomorrow’s lectures belong together. Today’s lecture is intended to show how the human soul can strengthen itself spiritually to perceive the spiritual world, just as its eyes and intellect perceive the sensory world. Through this, it perceives everything. That the soul is born out of the outer sensory world and at the same time exists in the spiritual realm is expressed in a saying by Goethe:

If the eye were not like the sun,
How could we see the light?
If God’s own power did not live within us,
How could the divine delight us?

[ 43 ] It is true that the eye must be within us, with all its power, so that we may behold the light; the eye must be like the sun. And for a person to perceive God, their life must be filled with God’s inner vitality.

[ 44 ] But such a statement, in the Goethean sense, is not meant in the way that [Schopenhauer], for example, would say it: “The world is a representation.” – We would be far removed from the meaning of Goethe’s statement if we believed that we are to create the entire external world merely as a pale imitation of the inner world, as some philosophers claim. This must be said, as Goethe says: Man would have no eyes if sunlight did not penetrate space. And just as it is true that we perceive light only through the eye, so too is it true that we have an eye only because light floods through space, for it is light that first brought the eye into being. Beings that once had eyes but have lived in caves for many generations lose the organ of sight; their eyes atrophy. The eye is a creation of light. Thus, the fact that we have organs for light, through which we can perceive it, is at the same time proof of light’s existence. The fact that human beings can experience the spiritual within themselves—that they can awaken the supersensible within themselves—is proof that the supersensible is not merely within them and that they do not merely dream it, but rather that the spiritual, which permeates all of space and time, has brought forth the spiritual within us, just as light has brought forth the eye.

[ 45 ] Thus, we can supplement Goethe’s beautiful saying—which points us to our inner light and sun-like nature, to our inner divinity—with a saying that arises from the inner spirituality of the human being [gap in the transcript] and relates to the outer reality of the spiritual. We can summarize the result of our reflection as a conviction of the reality of that spiritual realm in which we rest, just as we, as sensory beings, rest in the material world; we can summarize it by placing Goethe’s saying alongside this other saying:

If the world were not [blessed with sunlight],
How could eyes blossom into being?
If existence were not God’s revelation,
How could people attain spiritual fulfillment?