The Rudolf Steiner Archive

12. Essays on the Relationship Between the Humanities and the Individual Sciences II

[ 1 ] Ladies and gentlemen! The spiritual-scientific considerations from which we must proceed today can be placed at the center of our discussion because they shed light on what follows. At first, it may seem as though today’s topic has little to do with the aim of establishing connections between spiritual scientific insight and practical life; but things would, so to speak, remain too much up in the air if we did not turn to those matters that can lead us to the heart of scientific inquiry. And this focal point of scientific inquiry stands before us today in such a way that it is, in fact, excluded by conventional science. For one must admit: when a person observes nature and attempts to understand it through his perceptions, he is fully engaged in all these perceptions; the process of cognition unfolds under his immediate participation—he cannot, so to speak, step aside. And only when one has become aware of this involvement will one be able to view in the proper way that which, in the spirit of today’s approach, one would like to separate entirely from the human being—namely, those phenomena from which, as they say, one wishes to construct an “objective worldview.” After all, in order to arrive at a physical worldview today, one wants to disregard human beings entirely; one seeks to achieve the ideal in which human beings do not introduce anything of themselves into the physical worldview. But in order to fulfill such an ideal, the question must first be settled as to what extent human beings are capable of observing phenomena entirely apart from themselves. On the other hand, the issue is that, precisely when human beings are viewed in the spirit of today’s scientific worldview, one cannot help but apply to human beings once again what has been derived from this view of nature—which is supposed to stand entirely independent of human beings. After all, it has become almost universal practice today to introduce even psychological considerations—reflections on human mental life—by first presenting findings derived purely from the natural sciences. Indeed, what can be presented as such physiological findings in psychology is even regarded as the essential point. But in doing so, one reintroduces into the study of human beings precisely that which one had originally designated to be investigated in terms of its laws independently of human beings. And it is then no wonder that psychological investigations, too, reach limits that must be highly unsatisfactory. This has become the customary practice in scientific inquiry. But one could also say that, through these habits of thought, the human being has essentially been entirely excluded from the view of the world. We can say, for example, that the ideal of the astronomical approach consists in limiting oneself as much as possible to what can be expressed through measurement, counting, and the like. The physical ideal has also been applied to astronomy, and attempts are made to arrive at conceptions of the relationships between celestial bodies—including the Earth—while completely excluding human beings from this process. This is quite obvious to anyone who considers the scientific approach in this field today. Humanity is not regarded at all in any connection with what is otherwise investigated as a law of nature.

[ 2 ] In physics, it is quite common—and perhaps even taken for granted (we will see in later lectures to what extent this is the case)—that human beings are excluded from consideration. From there, one moves through chemistry to the more organic sciences, which are then supposed to culminate in biology and specialized anthropology. But it is precisely here that the 19th-century approach increasingly sought to investigate—using all manner of methods that are indeed highly commendable in this field—how one animal form evolves from another, how the simplest animal forms become more perfect — if one uses the term in a relative sense, one may well use it —, and how humans can then be regarded as the pinnacle of animal forms.

[ 3 ] But inherent in everything that has occurred as a history of development as the theory of descent, lies the endeavor to understand human beings by first learning to understand the laws of animal life very well, then applying those laws found in animal life to human life, and conceiving of these laws in a certain modified way in order to understand human beings. In one specific field, this has indeed led to the view that research on animal organisms is virtually decisive for humans as well. No matter how clearly one may realize that all sorts of theoretical objections must be raised—one nevertheless regards what is gained through animal experimentation with regard to biological truths as, in a certain sense, entirely binding for humans as well. In the fundamentals of therapy, what is gained through animal experimentation is regarded as decisive, in a certain sense, even for what one then seeks to recognize in human beings. It is precisely in this field that it becomes very clear how, by believing one is approaching the animal organism, one assumes one can also approach the human organism—merely through a certain modification of the results.

[ 4 ] Exactly the same thing, only modified accordingly for a specific field, has emerged in the field of economics. Ever since Adam Smith, we have had theories that do not actually regard human beings as such as social entities. It is completely disregarded that human beings, in their totality, are part of the social order; and what is actually considered is not the human being per se, but the human being insofar as he is an “owner,” a “private owner,” and so on. Human beings are not regarded as free beings, insofar as freedom flows from the very core of their nature, but only what is called “economic freedom” is considered. Thus, here too, we see human beings as such excluded from the field of consideration. And one can see nothing else in this exclusion of human beings but a fundamental trait of the entire modern scientific approach.

[ 5 ] The question now arises as to whether, if one tends toward such an exclusion of the human, one can thereby arrive at a characterization of the non-human worldview—as presented, for example, in inorganic natural science—that is in any way meaningful, in any way satisfying, or true to reality. To shed light on this properly, it is necessary that we approach the field of inorganic natural science not directly but indirectly, and that we familiarize ourselves today with the path that can lead to such an unbiased discussion.

[ 6 ] I want to begin with an area that is particularly characteristic because it reveals to those grounded in spiritual science the full discrepancy between a view that corresponds to reality and a view that is constructed from all sorts of theoretical assumptions yet nevertheless believes it captures reality itself. As I said, this field is particularly characteristic because, on the one hand, it reveals this discrepancy and, on the other hand, it shows just how far removed today’s conventional scientific perspective actually is from what spiritual science—as understood here—aspires to be, and through which spiritual science seeks to enrich the individual specialized sciences. I am referring to the field of optics, in particular the study of color. Today, of course, one is immediately dismissed as a scientific dilettante if one draws attention to the question of whether Goethe’s theory of color is valid or whether it is the theory of color recognized by physics today that is valid. Well, the essential point here is that Goethe never wanted to conduct any scientific investigation whatsoever without placing the human being within the entire fabric of the world. He does not wish to conduct scientific research in isolation from the human being; therefore, he also brings all experimentation with colors into direct relation to the human being himself.

[ 7 ] Our current worldview, as expressed in the sciences—and, as we shall see, it is indeed a worldview that finds expression in the sciences, even if this is often denied— the worldview that is expressed in the sciences today has strayed far from the paths laid out by Goethe himself, who is, after all, regarded in this field as little more than a dilettante by the so-called experts. I have attempted, in my introductions to Goethe’s scientific writings in Kürschner’s *Nationalliteratur*, to express precisely what is essential to a scientific appreciation of Goethe—this particular current of scientific work as pursued by Goethe. This particular current has, in fact, now dried up. In contrast, the contemporary scientific approach—which is particularly effective in the field of inorganic natural sciences and in all areas where the inorganic can be applied to the organic—disapproves of the Goethean perspective. Instead, it is based entirely on what natural science has become through views such as those of Newton. Even if Newton’s views themselves are outdated in many respects, one must still say: the very method of research is entirely dependent on Newtonian views. And so Goethe’s theory of colors has found no continuation in our established science, but only the Newtonian one.

[ 8 ] Today, I would like to offer a sort of aphoristic introduction, approaching the topic from various angles, to help us move forward.

[ 9 ] In Goethe’s view, the Theory of Colors is indeed about examining colors in connection with what takes place within the human organism itself. You need only open Goethe’s Theory of Colors, and you will see that Goethe begins with physiological colors and the behavior of the eye—though he views them, one might say, from a different perspective than we do today. Today, we actually view the eye as if it were removed from the entire human organism—as if we were, so to speak, isolating it from this organism—regarding it as an optical apparatus and then attempting to understand how — when this eye is removed from the organism, when it is regarded as an optical apparatus — how the impressions on the eye, the stimuli to the eye, and so on, present themselves. Just try to visualize for a moment how this way of looking at things actually works. If one wants to clarify something regarding the eye, if one wants to answer the question in some way: How does the eye relate to any visible object? — with this approach, one can hardly do anything other than draw the eye itself on the board in some cross-section, draw lines from the object to the eye, and so on; then one might still ask: How do the various parts of the eye relate to whatever is exerting a stimulus?

[ 10 ] It may be difficult for those who are thoroughly versed in today’s scientific perspective to grasp the difference between this approach—which I have just characterized in somewhat radical terms—and Goethe’s, and how the physiological-subjective method by which Goethe conducts his experiments relates to this approach. He conducts his experiments in such a way that he allows the eye to remain within the living process of the organism; he positions the eye so that, during his experiments, it possesses, as it were, the status of a conscious organ within the human organism. Thus, Goethe regarded the eye as experienced in the human being—the eye felt to be vividly connected to the human being—as the starting point for his physiologically subjective investigations of color.

[ 11 ] The eye that Goethe exposes to phenomena in his experiments—that, essentially, cannot be drawn on the blackboard. And what Goethe then describes as phenomena in the realm of light and color—that, strictly speaking, cannot be drawn on the blackboard either. That is why Goethe is averse to those abstractions that today’s physicist immediately draws on the blackboard whenever he refers to anything in the realm of color or optics in general. Goethe is averse to sketching out this entire abstract system of lines. He describes what, in a sense, lives in the becoming-consciousness of any optical process.

[ 12 ] Only when Goethe moves from subjective colors to objective colors—that is, when he examines external, physical color phenomena—only then does he actually begin to draw in the sense that today’s physicists prefer. For the modern physicist, the entire process of seeing is—at least in theory—separated from human nature; it is translated into the inorganic and represented in mathematical lines. For Goethe, life is not eradicated from the process of seeing; rather, what emerges in the modified process of seeing is merely described; at most, it is rendered meaningful by fixing the phenomena—I would say—with an inner, meaningful symbolism.

[ 13 ] It is important to point out precisely this, because it is in the approach—in the entire attitude toward phenomena—that what distinguishes Goethe’s view of nature from the contemporary view of nature lies. This Goethean view of nature is perhaps fundamentally more inconvenient than today’s. For it is generally easier to sketch things on a board using mathematical lines than to grasp with the mind’s eye that which places great demands on our imagination and which cannot really be drawn with sharply defined lines.

[ 14 ] But at the same time, my esteemed audience, something else becomes apparent. Goethe takes physiological colors as his starting point; I have already explained this to you when I described his approach to gaining insights through methods of investigation different from those used today. But then his entire approach culminates in the chapter he titled “The Sensual-Moral Effect of Color.” Here, Goethe moves, so to speak, directly from the physical realm into the realm of the soul, and he then characterizes the entire spectrum of colors with extraordinary precision. He characterizes the impression that is experienced; it is, after all, something experienced in a thoroughly objective manner. Even though it is experienced within the subject, it is nonetheless something experienced quite objectively within the subject—the impression made, let us say, by the colors on the warm side of the spectrum, such as red and yellow. He describes them in terms of their activity, how they have, so to speak, a stimulating or invigorating effect on people. And he describes how the colors on the cool side of the spectrum have a calming effect, inspiring a sense of surrender; and he describes how green, in the middle, has a balancing effect.

[ 15 ] In a sense, he describes a spectrum of emotions. And it is interesting to consider how a psychologically nuanced perspective immediately emerges from the orderly, physical approach. Anyone who understands this line of inquiry arrives at the following conclusions. They say to themselves: The individual colors of the spectrum stand before us; they are experienced as entities that appear to be entirely separate from human beings. In our ordinary perception of life, we quite naturally and justifiably place the greatest value on immediately perceiving this objective element—say, in red or yellow—with our eyes. But there is always an undertone. When one looks at the immediate experience, it can actually only be separated—in the abstract—from what is, in an objective sense, a so-called experience of the red and blue hues that is externally separate from the human being; it is an abstract separation from what is, in fact, also directly experienced in the act of seeing—but which is only hinted at, so to speak, and experienced in a subtle undertone that can never be absent—so that in this realm one can observe purely physically only after first abstracting what is experienced psychologically from the physical.

[ 16 ] So we first have the external spectrum, and within this external spectrum we have the undertone of psychological experiences. We thus face the outer world with our senses, with the eye, and we cannot adjust the eye in such a way that, in most cases—even if often unconsciously or subconsciously—a psychological experience does not accompany it. We call what is experienced through the eye “sensation.” We are now accustomed, my esteemed audience, to calling the subjective that which is experienced in sensation—that is, the experience in which a stimulus originating from the objectively extended world presents itself as sensation. But you can see from the way I have just described this, drawing on Goethe, that we can, so to speak, establish a counter-spectrum—a psychological counter-spectrum—that can be brought into exact parallel with the external optical spectrum.

[ 17 ] We can identify a spectrum of nuanced feelings: exciting, stimulating, balancing, devotional, and so on. When we look outward, we see the color yellow; we sense in it, as an undertone, the stimulating quality—that which, in a sense, actively affects us from the outside. But what about the inner experience? This inner experience, so to speak, emerges from within us and meets the outer world. But let us suppose for a moment that we were able to pinpoint exactly what we experienced in red, yellow, green, blue, and violet. Let us suppose we could record these feelings in such a nuanced way that we would have an inner spectrum of feelings, just as we have the ordinary optical spectrum from the outside. If we now imagine that from the outside—in the red, yellow, green, blue, and violet, that is, in the objective world—the undertones of excitement, stimulation, balance, and devotion are kindled, so that we see them, as it were, as something accompanying the external phenomena—that is, this external phenomenon exists without us, but the accompanying spectrum of emotions exists through us—would it then be so absurd to assume that what otherwise underlies this spectrum of emotions from the outside, without our intervention, could also occur from within? Would it be so absurd to imagine that this spectrum of feelings might now exist within us, and that from it might spring forth, in human experience, the spectrum of colors that is now perceived in inner images? Just as the color spectrum is otherwise present and inner emotional experiences are added through our presence, so it could also be that the emotional experiences, which can be represented in the differentiated spectrum, would be regarded as the objective—the objective situated within—and that what can now be compared to the objective color spectrum would emerge as an undertone.

[ 18 ] Now, spiritual science claims nothing other than that a method is possible in which what I have just presented to you as a postulate is truly experienced [internally] in the same way as in the external experience where the objective spectrum is present, and where, as it were, the subjective spectrum of feelings extends like a veil over the objective spectrum. Likewise, the spectrum of feelings—to which the experience of color is now linked—can be experienced inwardly. This can truly be experienced, and it underlies what I characterized yesterday, in a more abstract sense, as imagination. It is entirely possible to bring forth from within the human being that which is a phenomenon spread out in space—an external phenomenon—as an inner phenomenon. And just as the external phenomenon becomes diluted in our perception as it approaches us, so the inner experience becomes more concentrated as it is taken up by the consciousness that has developed unconsciously within us—as I indicated yesterday.

[ 19 ] One must simply be clear, my esteemed audience, that what arises in the spiritual science referred to here is by no means a matter of nebulous fantasies, as is usually the case with the results of certain daydreams known as “mystical worldviews.” What is meant here by anthroposophical spiritual science is indeed based on experiences that one does not otherwise have—experiences that must first be developed—but which can be expressed in absolutely clear terms and can be traced through and through with absolutely clear concepts.

[ 20 ] One can therefore say that Goethe depicted the objective external world exactly as a person who is, in a half-instinctive way, aware that there is an inner counterpart to what he is describing externally; that there is an inner perception corresponding to the external one. — Once, first of all, one has familiarized oneself with this line of thought, and once, secondly, one has made an effort to truly experience, in the direction indicated yesterday, what I have now alluded to—namely, that which constitutes a differentiated emotional life—and to allow it to be illuminated by imaginations that may then be described with the same words with which one describes external phenomena—once one has risen to these things, then the prospect opens up for a grasp of the human being that is precisely lacking in modern scientific views. How, after all, could one arrive at a view of the human being if one artificially separates everything that occurs in the human being’s interaction with the world, if one wants to look only outward and not inward at all? That, and nothing else, is ultimately what is repeatedly raised—precisely from the scientific side—as a criticism against the humanities, namely that they do not proceed scientifically. This is a prejudice that has arisen because, from the outset, only that which is separated from the human being is accepted as scientific observation, without taking into account the underlying nuances that characterize the human element in the process. As a result, one cannot find the path to what the human being actually experiences within. The colors I am referring to now—which emerge from the spectrum of feeling just as the spectrum of feeling emerges from the external, objective spectrum—are experienced in imaginative contemplation, and they serve as the medium for spiritually perceiving the supersensible, just as the external spectral colors serve as the medium for perceiving the external, sensory-physical world. One could say that the surfaces of external bodies reveal themselves in the ordinary spectral colors. If I were now to express myself in a somewhat strange, seemingly paradoxical way, I would have to say: The surfaces of the spiritual—of course, any reasonable person will know what I mean; that is, I am not referring to just any sphere when I speak of the spiritual—the surfaces of the spiritual express themselves in those colors that are evoked in the imagination from the spectrum of feeling. Instead of first pursuing this line of thought and telling themselves that if external nature is exactly as it is, then the other way of perceiving it must also be possible—and that one must therefore try to arrive at this perception—instead of saying this to themselves, that is, actually drawing the logical conclusion from an external view of nature, the opponents are far more concerned with heaping scorn and ridicule upon what is called the human aura, which is, after all, nothing other than that which has been brought into inner perception in another realm—such as here, in the realm of the emotional spectrum.

[ 21 ] But once one has fully absorbed this perspective, my esteemed audience, it has all sorts of consequences. For example, it entails that one extends the same line of thought—through which one attempts to form a picture of how external sensory impressions arise—to the inner life of the human being, so that one can say: Something is taking place that can be recognized when a person surrenders to sensory impressions and transforms them into their own experiences through the power of imagination. But something must also be taking place within a person when they perceive what is inside them—that is, when they surrender to their inner life. Then something directed inward is taking place, just as something else takes place when they direct their perception and observation outward. And if one then adjusts one’s method of investigation to this, light is also shed on certain physiological facts which, otherwise—when they are presented to us as they are in modern science—are thoroughly unsatisfactory for those who seek a genuine understanding and not merely one that has been instilled.

[ 22 ] As I said, I will shed light on these matters aphoristically from various perspectives; we will eventually arrive at the connections. You know that in modern science, a distinction has been made between the nerves that extend throughout the human body’s interior and are said to mediate perceptions. These nerves are contrasted with another type of nerve—those that are said to run from the central organs to the human limbs and so on; these nerves are said to be responsible for conveying volition, just as the other nerves are said to be responsible for conveying sensory perceptions. People have indeed devised rather neat theories about the transmission of sensations to the central organ, their transformation there into volitional impulses, and the innervation of the motor nerves, which are then supposed to convey what arises from the will and leads to movement and the like. Certainly, the arguments cited to justify this distinction between the two types of nerves are very persuasive. I need only recall, for example, what one believes one can study in a well-known, very painful disease, tabes. There, it is believed that, naturally, everything pertaining to the sensory nerves is intact, and that only the motor nerves have suffered damage.

[ 23 ] Everything said along these lines—based on a preconceived view of things—has a certain allure. On the other hand, however, one should be suspicious—first, because of the anatomical findings, which provide absolutely no basis for distinguishing between these types of nerves, and second, because one type of nerve can be transformed into the other. If one cuts through one of them and connects a sensory nerve to a motor nerve at the point of the cut, these nerves can certainly be made to function as a single unit. One ought to be suspicious of such things, which are, after all, well known; but once an explanation has been steered in a certain direction, one continues to think along those lines, and it becomes virtually impossible to persuade oneself to truly examine the matter from the ground up.

[ 24 ] If one actually examines what can be impartially regarded as sensory processes and motor processes, one will in reality find no basis for making such a distinction among the nerves. But if one proceeds not from one-sided but from comprehensive premises, one will be compelled to assume the mediation of sensations inwardly just as one acknowledges the mediation of sensations outwardly. Just as one acknowledges the transmission of sensation through the nerve from the outside, through which one internally becomes aware of some entity of the external world, so it is equally necessary that awareness be transmitted of what lies internally within the human organism; it is necessary that a genuine sensation of what lies internally within the human organism occur. And if one continues the investigation in this way, one will find in the so-called motor nerves nothing other than those nerves that convey perceptions of the body’s interior just as the so-called sensory nerves convey perceptions of external entities. On the one hand, we have nerves that connect us to the external world; on the other hand, we have nerves that connect us to our own inner world. It goes without saying that if our optic nerves do not function and we are blind, we cannot reach for an object; and if the motor—but in truth, the sensory—nerve, which is supposed to convey the message that a limb is to perform a movement, is not present in us, then we simply do not perceive the limb in question or the processes taking place within it, and we cannot carry out the movements. Truly consistent thinking clearly shows us that we must conceive of what are called motor nerves as sensory nerves—but only as those that convey inner sensations, the sensations of our own body’s interior, the processes taking place within our own body. You will see for yourselves that if you apply such a conception, as I have just presented it to you, and then actually apply it to what are already well-established empirical facts today, you will be able to understand, without contradiction, everything that these empirical facts represent; and that anyone who thinks truly consistently cannot really make sense of theories—such as those concerning the difference between sensory and motor nerves—because in reality they constantly lead to contradictions.

[ 25 ] There I hinted at something for you regarding where anthroposophically oriented spiritual science is directed in its understanding of the human organism. It certainly does not do so out of any prejudice, but rather out of an objective consideration of the facts—except that it transforms the organ that perceives these facts in such a way that imaginative perception, in the sense discussed yesterday, is added to ordinary sensory perception.

[ 26 ] And if we turn our attention to another field of contemporary research, we must say: We have a curious construct today, for example, in the form of psychology. Just take a look at it—but look at it with sound judgment—at what Theodor Ziehen, for example, calls his “physiological psychology.” First, you are made aware of the fact that we have mental images. These mental images are also examined in terms of their qualities, to the extent that such a researcher’s powers of observation allow. The chains of associations between mental images are examined, and so on. In a sense, then, the faculty of imagination—as it exists in empirical reality—is captured. This psychological field of mental images, with its various processes, is then contrasted with the findings of brain and nervous system physiology; and it cannot be denied that there are indeed parallels to a significant degree between brain structure and what emerges as the facts of mental life. Now, however, mental life does not consist solely of representations; it also encompasses emotional and volitional impulses. And let us now take a look at what this “physiological psychology” makes of emotion. It is simply asserted: Emotions as such—which are, after all, a very real experience—are not considered at all; instead, only the “emotional coloring” of the life of the imagination is examined. The focus is on how the emotional coloring is associated with the images—which, according to the laws of association, are linked in a way that corresponds to a certain structure of the nervous system and brain—and how these emotional colorings are connected to them. Thus, these emotional emphases are appendages of the life of the imagination. In a sense, the life of the imagination points toward something that is lost in the indeterminate. The emotional emphasis of the life of the imagination is lost in the indeterminate.

[ 27 ] One cannot make any progress if one equates the life of the imagination with the structure of the brain and the nervous system. One is compelled not to move from the life of the imagination to the life of feeling at all, but rather to regard the life of feeling merely as a special emphasis within the life of the imagination. Thus, the life of feeling has been lost in psychological analysis. One has just focused attention on the fact that mental images have emotional overtones—and then the emotional life vanishes into an indeterminate X. Although we live quite very much in these feelings, for the modern psychologist they vanish into nothingness. Something with which we identify so strongly with our human self—the emotional life—is supposedly no longer capable of being grasped by cognition at all.

[ 28 ] And as for the impulses of the will—which constitute what actually emanates from us into the external world—there is, in such a physiological psychology, absolutely no possibility even of beginning to consider them. With regard to emotions, one at least begins with the life of imagination and considers them insofar as they are emotional nuances of that life; but the volitional impulses—these are considered in such a way that one actually views only their consequences from the outside. One sees one’s arm move when a volitional impulse is present; one sees the result of the volitional impulse. Thus, one observes the volitional impulse from the outside. It does not even occur to one to seek a way to truly arrive at a way of observing the volitional impulse itself.

[ 29 ] Thus, for the modern psychologist, the life of the imagination and the life of the nerves are still, in a certain sense, interconnected. To a certain extent—whether more or less materialistically or, as a certain theory holds, according to the principle of psychophysical parallelism—the psychologist still finds a relationship, even if it is as superficial as in the case of psychophysical parallelism, between the structure of the life of the imagination and the structure of some physical entity; but that is where the matter ends, and one goes absolutely no further.

[ 30 ] Hence that hopeless theory—which is constantly being trotted out only to be refuted time and again—regarding the interaction between the soul-spiritual and the physical-bodily. We do not know the actual, empirical connection between the soul-spiritual and the physical-bodily. This connection is not examined in concrete detail, as one would examine the connection between oxygen and hydrogen in concrete detail; instead, all sorts of abstract theories are devised about it, which can then, of course, always be refuted. For it is a fundamental law that whatever is constructed purely theoretically from concepts always has as much in its favor as against it, so that it can be proven just as easily as it can be refuted. This is the secret behind many contemporary scientific discussions: that theories constructed in this way can just as easily be affirmed as they can be denied. Such is the case with what appears to be a thoroughly inadequate understanding of the human being. The human being has simply been excluded from the modern scientific mindset.

[ 31 ] I have contrasted this with what I have discovered regarding the organic threefold structure of the human being. It is the result of more than thirty years of research; and I have become convinced that what I will outline for you today—I will return to this from various angles in the coming days— I can assure you that I have thoroughly examined the findings of contemporary scientific research in order to verify against them what has emerged from pure spiritual science over the course of decades. And I would not have dared to speak out about what I communicated regarding these findings a few years ago in my book *On the Mysteries of the Soul* until it actually appeared to me to be fully verified. People always believe that the spiritual scientist speaks merely on a whim. In truth, spiritual scientific investigations require just as many years of work as other scientific investigations.

[ 32 ] What became clear to me is that only the human power of imagination—the realm of human imagination—is structurally connected to what might be called the nervous-sensory life. Because people started from the prejudice that the entire life of the soul must be connected to the nervous-sensory life, they lost sight of two aspects of the life of the soul. One can connect nothing other than the life of imagination to the nervous-sensory life. One cannot establish a direct connection between the emotional life or the volitional life and the nervous-sensory life—though an indirect one is possible, precisely because emotions and volitional impulses are also represented in the imagination; this results in an indirect connection. But one cannot find a direct connection between what constitutes the emotional life and the nervous-sensory life.

[ 33 ] On the other hand, there is a direct connection between the emotional life and the course of all those processes in the human organism that are rhythmic—such as breathing, blood circulation, and so on—so that we must say: Just as the life of imagination is connected to the nervous-sensory life, so the emotional life is connected to the rhythmic system.

[ 34 ] It is interesting—as I have already pointed out in the book *On the Mysteries of the Soul*—to examine the musical experience under these conditions. Anyone who has ever engaged in the analysis of the musical experience will know how much of an emotional element is contained within it, yet how this emotional element must, in a certain sense, be related to the life of the imagination. Otherwise, we could not incorporate the nuanced melody into the musical experience; we could not even include the individual note in its objective perception if the experience of imagination did not in some way merge with the emotional experience within the overall musical experience. Yet time and again—and quite rightly so—it is emphasized that the central element of the musical experience is the emotional experience. And people such as Eduard Hanslik, in his book *On Musical Beauty*, go too far when they seek to eliminate the emotional experience entirely and view the musical as little more than an experience of tonal arabesques. But this musical experience must be analyzed further. Then we come to the point of relating this musical experience—which, in objective terms, certainly corresponds to the rhythmic and to what is related to the rhythmic—to that which, in a sense, proceeds musically within ourselves: to the processes of our rhythmic system. One can now observe in its entirety how, through the process of inhalation, the cerebrospinal fluid is pushed up through the spinal canal toward the brain, how it, so to speak, impacts the brain, and how it in turn flows back down during the process of exhalation. One can observe how, through the modification of the breathing process, the rhythm is also modified in this rising and falling cerebrospinal fluid. And if one approaches this perspective with the same objectivity as other objective observations of the external world, one will come to examine, for example, how the experience of breathing is modified in singing. One will find something—which expresses itself in singing as a musical experience—reflected in the experience of breathing; one will find the experience of breathing reflected in the oscillating cerebrospinal fluid. One will then recognize the connection between this rhythmic process in the human organism and the nervous-sensory process in the brain, and will thus recognize the interaction between the rhythmic system and the nervous-sensory system. And one will then be able to distinguish that which corresponds to the emotional experience—which, in the human organism, is precisely the rhythmic system.

[ 35 ] It is indeed necessary to tackle these matters with careful analysis; then they certainly offer the possibility of finding within human beings themselves what provides a true picture of human organization.

[ 36 ] Third, it turns out that volitional impulses are connected to the metabolic processes of the human organism. Just as the processes of imagination are connected to the nervous-sensory processes and the processes of feeling to the rhythmic processes, so too are volitional impulses connected to the metabolic processes. And it is entirely possible to identify in detail how a metabolic process taking place in a particular muscle underlies the volitional impulse that arises in that muscle and emanates from it.

[ 37 ] If one considers these three systems—which represent the entire process of the human organism—in their interaction, one will find the physical-bodily counterpart, indeed the complete physical-bodily counterpart, of the soul. One will find the soul—in its aspects of imagination, feeling, and will—reflected in the human organism. And then one will no longer be inclined to speak merely of an emotional emphasis in the life of the imagination, nor to view the impulses of the will solely in terms of their corresponding images in the imagination from the outside, nor to consider metabolism solely from its material aspect. It is absolutely necessary to consider metabolism from its spiritual aspect as well. There it is precisely what corresponds to the will.

[ 38 ] You will be able to completely resolve any contradictions that might arise in relation to these descriptions if you proceed in a truly empirical manner, for these three systems are not separate but rather interpenetrate one another. The nerve is organically built up through metabolism, but in terms of its nervous process, it is something different from metabolism. However, the metabolic process also operates within the nerve, for the nerve must be organically built up and broken down. As metabolism operates within the nerve, our life of imagination becomes permeated with the impulse of the will. And one must be as afflicted by materialism as John Stuart Mill or those who follow his lead if one speaks of mere associations of ideas—which do not exist in this abstract sense at all—and if one completely separates the element of will from the life of imagination.

[ 39 ] As you can see from this, my esteemed audience, how necessary it is to explore the relationship between the soul and the physical body in a completely different way than is commonly done today. I will provide you with further evidence of this as the lectures progress. You can see what this is really all about. This is what it is all about: to investigate, in a truly concrete and empirical way, the relationships between the spiritual-soul aspects and the physical-bodily aspects in the human being, and not merely to talk abstractly about the relationships between soul and spirit—which, in the end, amounts to little more than discussing the relationships of an abstract spiritual-soul entity to the physical-bodily aspects.

[ 40 ] But if one applies a perspective that truly looks into the physical from within the soul—one that recognizes the body as thoroughly permeated by the soul in its very configuration—and, conversely, sees how everything that emanates from the physical plays a role within the soul, only then is a science possible that can serve as the foundation for rational medicine and, in turn, for rational therapy. This marks the beginning of one of the chapters where spiritual science has direct practical implications, where it appears called upon to find solutions to what strikes one as most unsatisfactory when, given today’s conditions, one wishes to use knowledge of the human being as the foundation for pathology and therapy.

[ 41 ] I structured these first two lectures the way I did, primarily so that you can see that anthroposophical spiritual science is not simply a matter of merely constructing fantastical scenarios, but rather about offering a serious worldview that encompasses the human being and can therefore also do justice to what, in practical terms, should flow from each of the two aspects of the human being described here yesterday. Ultimately, it is a matter of truly understanding the human being—not merely talking about him, but truly understanding him—if one wishes to gain a foundation for what should emanate from the human being in ethical and social terms. In today’s world, we are called upon to derive goals for practical life from our understanding of the human being. That is why the theme of these lectures—which are intended to address the enrichment of the specialized sciences through the human sciences—had to be framed in this way. And we shall also see how, from such a view of the human being, fruitful results can be derived—both in technical and in practical-social terms—not only for science but also for life itself; for, fundamentally speaking, if one only understands it in the right sense, true science must always serve true life.