The Rudolf Steiner Archive

5. The Essence of Anthroposophy

[ 1 ] Ladies and gentlemen! Anthroposophy is currently viewed by many people—who are initially approaching it from the outside—as a more or less fanciful attempt to penetrate, through knowledge, areas of the world with which serious science is not supposed to concern itself.

[ 2 ] Anthroposophy, however, seeks to penetrate those realms that are usually—with more or less justification—referred to as the supersensible realms, and in which human beings are rooted in their true, deeper, eternal nature. Indeed, there are already serious scientific researchers today who are investigating all manner of abnormal human abilities, which indicate that human beings are subject to other laws and are connected to the world in ways different from those that can be ascertained through conventional scientific studies.

[ 3 ] Yet it is precisely those who turn to such abnormal human abilities—which they then, quite justifiably, merely record scientifically and investigate according to their laws—who often view the path taken by anthroposophy as fantastical, nebulous, and mystical, as one that must inevitably lead to all manner of superstitious beliefs and fanaticism. Now, however—my esteemed audience—one cannot say that enthusiastic, mystical types can, in the long run, be in any way satisfied by what anthroposophy is in its very essence. Such people—and there are indeed many of them today—who rush wherever there is talk of anything “occult,” as they call it, will very soon discover that anthroposophy is firmly grounded in rigorous thinking, in what might be called a conscientious scientific method. And that really isn’t suitable for enthusiastic, nebulous, and mystically inclined personalities. Of course, this does not prevent those who wish to dismiss what is unfamiliar to them with a casual wave of the hand from concluding that anthroposophy attracts neurasthenic or hysterical personalities and the like.

[ 4 ] Well—my esteemed audience—in the face of this distorted image of anthroposophy that is still so frequently portrayed today, it is not entirely easy to characterize the essence of this field of research and this worldview in a short lecture. I will attempt to do so this evening by first describing the paths through which anthroposophy seeks to penetrate those realms that are inaccessible to conventional natural science. And I will then try to say at least a few words about the results that are reached through such paths.

[ 5 ] One should certainly not believe that anthroposophy, as understood here, seeks in any way to oppose what the unique methods of the natural sciences have achieved for human progress over the course of the last few centuries, and especially during the nineteenth century. It must certainly be accepted as a prerequisite that anthroposophy is committed to being in full harmony with the scientific findings of recent times, and that anthroposophy has absolutely no interest in any kind of abnormal human abilities, but only in a proper continuation of the entirely normal human capacities for cognition and spiritual life. It is often believed that nothing significant can be achieved precisely through such a normal continuation and further development. Anthroposophy must first combat this prejudice. In doing so, however, it initially encounters two formidable obstacles. And by becoming fully aware of these two obstacles to knowledge in a completely unbiased manner, it hopes to find a path that avoids them.

[ 6 ] On the one hand—as I have already mentioned—we have the tremendous scientific research findings of recent times, with their magnificent practical implications for life. Anthroposophy certainly takes into account the views of those “cautious” natural philosophers, who stand at the pinnacle of their science, and who speak of the necessary limits of this knowledge of nature.

[ 7 ] To begin with, what presents itself to human cognition is that which comes from sensory impressions, that which is accessible to observation and experimentation, and that which the human intellect can discover in terms of laws within this realm of the senses. Now, there is often an effort to go beyond this sensory realm—through mere, unguided thinking—into realms that lie beyond the sensory world. These are the attempts that, through what is called “philosophical thinking” or “philosophical speculation,” seek to go beyond the sensory realm. But anyone who approaches this not as a layperson or dilettante, but as an expert in the methods of the natural sciences, can also know—through the particular way of applying thought in the natural sciences—how the very kind of thinking that our scientific rigor has brought forth—not only binds itself arbitrarily to the external facts of the sensory world, but has, in recent times, developed its greatness precisely by adapting itself to the laws of the external sensory world and by conscientiously following the facts observable in that world. And once one has gone through this process—that is, seen how scientific thinking follows the facts—then one also knows what uncertainties and what subjective arbitrariness one encounters when one leaves the secure realm of sensory facts, the realm of observation and experiment, and surrenders to thinking left to its own devices.

[ 8 ] That is precisely why those who are then exposed to such a worldview—one that has arisen from this way of thinking—feel unsatisfied. They must tell themselves: Yes, what one thinker or another combines in his thoughts, going beyond the sensory world, could have turned out differently if he had been differently inclined. And indeed, it does turn out differently. Philosophical systems are at odds with one another, and this conflict among philosophical systems is precisely the source of the dissatisfaction that must immediately arise in the unbiased human mind when natural science transcends its boundaries in the manner just described. Now, anthroposophy is, to begin with, by no means inclined to think about nature in any other way than the rigorous natural scientist himself does. And even what it undertakes to explore regarding supersensible worlds is intended to be nothing more than a genuine continuation of the unified scientific worldview—not the discovery, for example in a dualistic sense, of some second world alongside the one in which we initially live as human beings. But there are people today with much deeper natures who, in light of the longings of the human soul, feel unsatisfied by what natural science can offer regarding external nature—into which human beings, with their physical bodies, are, after all, integrated. Such deeper natures then turn away from all research, from all conscientious inquiry in the sense of natural science, and turn toward a certain mystical direction. This is, after all, a very widespread phenomenon today: people tell themselves that external observation and external experimentation provide great benefits for practical life, but they can offer nothing to the human soul with its hopes for the eternal and its longing to fathom its own deeper being. Such individuals then seek ways to plunge down into the deeper recesses of the soul, believing that in these deeper recesses—through mystical contemplation—they will find precisely what cannot be found through external observation.

[ 9 ] And this brings me to the second obstacle that anthroposophy must overcome. It cannot remain confined to a limited understanding of nature any more than it can remain confined to any kind of nebulous mysticism. For it is precisely the person who, through unbiased observation of the soul—and it is precisely through anthroposophy that one must advance more and more toward such observation—the person who penetrates into the inner self through unbiased observation of the soul, who knows how impressions that we may have absorbed into our souls decades ago, perhaps half-unconsciously at the time, into our souls, resurface after a long time—and not only do they resurface exactly as they were absorbed back then, but they also combine in the depths of the human mind with all manner of feelings and sensations; they are often interwoven with impulses of the will in such a way that the person, with their full consciousness, has no part at all in this subconscious activity of the soul. And then, years later, they emerge from the soul in the case of mystics who are deeply absorbed in themselves; these mystics do not realize that these are merely transformed external impressions; they regard them as divine inspirations, and believe that through what they bring forth—these transformed external sensory impressions—they are drawing closer to those sources of world existence into which the human soul, with its Eternal Self, is immersed.

[ 10 ] Anthroposophy does not turn to this aspect of the supposed knowledge of the Eternal either, but rather states: In the external study of nature, external facts and their laws emerge; in inner contemplation, however, what ultimately emerges is essentially nothing more than what constitutes a direct or transformed recollection of impressions from the external sensory world. And precisely because anthroposophy addresses these matters with such precision, it comes to conclude: It is impossible, using the faculties of cognition that human beings initially possess for normal life and also for ordinary science, to, on the one hand, transcend the limits of natural phenomena, and, on the other hand, to penetrate more deeply into the very essence of the human soul itself. Precisely for this reason—because anthroposophy views both directions with an open mind—it seeks the path toward a further development of the human soul’s faculties.

[ 11 ] Now—my esteemed audience—if one wishes to embark on this path, it requires something that people, however, acquire only slowly and with great difficulty, and which I would like to call intellectual humility. For at a certain moment in one’s life, one must be able to say to oneself: As a very small child, I was by no means equipped with the abilities I possess today. I was disoriented in the world, and from the depths of the human being arose the abilities that today make knowledge possible for me, that today enable me to find practical orientation in life. In ordinary life, and also in ordinary science, one is content with what has been attained through education and what has been acquired through life experience. However, anyone who wishes to engage in research in the anthroposophical sense must not stop there; they must become aware that, beyond these abilities of ordinary life and ordinary science, there are abilities slumbering in the soul that can be brought to the surface through certain soul exercises, intimate soul exercises, and through the cultivation of which one gains insight into a world entirely different from the one that otherwise surrounds us. The development of these abilities does not occur through external measures; it occurs through intimate soul exercises. And it must be noted that these soul exercises are carried out in such a way that they are governed entirely by the scientific rigor that one can acquire in the currently recognized fields of science. Initially, however, what is to be accomplished through anthroposophy is directed toward the inner life of the soul; yet the approach is so rigorous that it can be held accountable to the methods of conscientious scientific inquiry.

[ 12 ] The point is that what these intimate soul exercises are intended to achieve is, first and foremost, a strengthening and invigoration of the entire human soul—on the one hand, a strengthening and invigoration of the life of imagination.

[ 13 ] Ladies and gentlemen, just as when you need a muscle to work, you strengthen that muscle—making the muscle itself stronger—so too can you strengthen and develop what constitutes the power of imagination in human beings by simply translating it and transforming it into a form of spiritual work that does not otherwise occur in life. I will describe this spiritual work in general terms; the details—for many years of practice are necessary to strengthen the life of the imagination—can be found in my books, for example in *How Does One Gain Knowledge of the Higher Worlds?* or in Part II of my *Esoteric Science*, or presented more briefly in the last chapter of my *The Riddles of Philosophy*. But, as I said, I would like to present the fundamental principles, the essence of the matter, this evening.

[ 14 ] The first step is to bring easily comprehensible ideas or complexes of ideas into the center of one’s consciousness in order to strengthen the human faculty of imagination, and then to devote one’s inner life entirely to such a complex of ideas, turning away from everything else. It is good—indeed, almost necessary—to find such a complex of ideas either by seeking it out—let’s say—in a book that is initially completely unknown to you, which you simply open to a random page, so that you take some saying or sentence about which you are absolutely certain has not previously passed through one’s consciousness or inner life—or one can also have someone experienced in these matters provide one with such content, upon which one then concentrates one’s inner life and to which one devotes oneself meditatively, as I have described in the books mentioned. It is necessary to devote oneself to a content of the soul that was previously unknown to you in this way, for the reason that when you draw up any content of the soul from the treasures of your memories, it has become intertwined with all sorts of other areas of the soul life. One cannot possibly know what one is bringing up from the subconscious depths of the soul and what will then emerge as reminiscences. One is protected from this only when one has a clearly definable mental image that was previously unknown to one. Then the task is to concentrate the soul on this mental content, disregarding everything else and turning one’s attention away from the rest of life and worldly existence, and specifically — You will find the exercises that lead to this described in the books mentioned — in such a way that the fully conscious will and genuine prudence never cease, but rather that one surrenders to such concentration or meditation with complete inner freedom, with the same inner freedom with which one also surrenders to external, sensory perceptions.

[ 15 ] For that—my esteemed audience—is the ideal of the anthroposophical method: not to plunge headlong into all manner of physical or other hidden human states, but to strive for that state of mind one experiences precisely when one is surrendered to external sensory impressions. One completely misunderstands anthroposophy if one believes that it strives toward those realms that pertain to the visionary, the hallucinatory, suggestion, or the like. In all these cases, the human being turns to a state of mind that delves into depths that are only weakly active in relation to external sensory perception or an external sensory impression. The anthroposophical method does not descend into this misty darkness; that is the very opposite of the visionary, the hallucinatory, and the suggestive—it is the opposite of what the anthroposophical method strives for. It further develops the state of mind one has in relation to external sensory impressions, but it develops it in relation to a content of imagination that can be characterized as I have just described it.

[ 16 ] And then one must strive more and more to become, in one’s devotion to such a mental image, as alive in consciousness as one otherwise is only when faced with an external sensory impression. You know, my esteemed audience, how much more alive a person is when absorbed in an external sensory impression than when engaged in ordinary thought life. It is indeed quite right to speak of “pale thoughts” in contrast to the intense, fully alive external sensory impressions. But the anthroposophical method must strive to achieve, in relation to these characterized thoughts, the same liveliness and intensity that is otherwise attainable only in response to external sensory impressions. As I said, this requires great perseverance and energy.

[ 17 ] And the spiritual research being discussed here is no easier than research conducted at an observatory, in a physics or chemistry laboratory, or in a clinical setting. It certainly requires long-term practice in this direction. But when this practice takes place, after some time the person does indeed experience an inner flexibility of the imagination that he or she had not known before, and finds himself or herself in an experience that tells him or her through experience: You are becoming more and more free from physicality in your soul life.

[ 18 ] Ladies and gentlemen, everything we have in ordinary life in the way of knowledge, everything we have in the way of other mental expressions, is, after all, bound up with physicality. Anyone who is unbiased knows how our memories are thoroughly bound to physical functions. Such a person therefore does not readily succumb to the notion that one can be free from the body, that one—I will even use this thoroughly unsympathetic word—can truly live a spiritual life outside one’s body. Yet this is precisely what one can attain through the continual intensification of such practice. One comes to be outside one’s body with one’s soul life. But at the same time, one knows that in this kind of knowledge—which I have described in the aforementioned books as the first stage of higher knowledge, the stage of imagination—one knows at the same time that with this soul life, which exists within a living, intensified, and invigorated thinking, only the subjective and pictorial can be experienced at first. This, in turn, distinguishes the anthroposophical researcher from the false mystic or even from a pathological disposition. The person who, out of pathological states, surrenders to a soul capacity is absolutely incapable of preserving what he has as his soul disposition in ordinary life. I would say: He slips with his entire consciousness into the realm of the visionary, into the realm of hallucination. The one who, as an anthroposophical researcher, develops the soul faculties of which I have spoken—even as he develops these faculties—remains the level-headed person he otherwise is in life, the person with strict self-criticism and a critical view of the world, who can at every moment monitor what is taking place in that second personality to which he has elevated himself as the imaginative-cognitive being. While, for this reason, the mentally ill person regards his hallucinations and visions, just as they are, as realities, the anthroposophical researcher knows that in his imaginations he initially has something pictorial and subjective, but that this has an intensified inner life of its own, and that he experiences this inner life in a different spiritual way than is otherwise the case in the human soul’s constitution.

[ 19 ] This imaginative cognition differs from ordinary imagination in that it does not proceed abstractly, like the concepts and ideas of ordinary cognition, but rather lives in fully saturated images. That is why I call it imaginative cognition. In this imaginative cognition, in which one has heightened the subjective awareness of one’s own being—in this imaginative cognition—the first result of anthroposophical research emerges at a certain stage in the development of these soul faculties. One comes to have before oneself, as in a great tableau, that which has been at work in one’s own human being in terms of inner, soul forces since birth. What one otherwise knows about this inner human being is, after all, contained in the stream of memories from which one either arbitrarily draws up individual areas in images of what one has experienced, or else images rise up freely; it remains—I would say—a stream of memories that is initially subconscious. That is not what one now perceives; rather, what one first perceives is the sum of those forces which one now knows have shaped one’s abilities and have given direction to one’s moral impulses. One sees, as if surveying it from above, in a unified tableau the way one has become—namely, how one has shaped oneself from within over the years. What would otherwise have been lost in the passage of time appears to one in a unified image that nevertheless possesses inner dynamism.

[ 20 ] This is the first new insight one gains through such spiritual development. I have called what one perceives in this way—and of which one now has direct knowledge—a second physicality, a spiritual physicality within the human being; I have called it the body of formative forces. Older, instinctive insight, which already knew something of these things, spoke of the etheric or life body. It is not something that can be depicted—at most, in the same way one might draw a flash of lightning—one must be fully aware that one is dealing with something that moves within itself, that changes from moment to moment, and that can therefore only be captured exactly as it is in a single moment. One is dealing with—I would say—a “time body” of the human being.

[ 21 ] Now—my esteemed audience—through imaginative insight one can first discover this inner realm, this inner, dynamic aspect, this body of formative forces within the human being—if I may put it that way. However, what I have described so far regarding the development of the soul must be continued. Once one has practiced concentrating on specific mental images, one is, in a certain sense—even though one devotes oneself to these images with complete inner freedom, just as a mathematician devotes himself to his combinations of thoughts—held fast by these images in a certain way. But that really should not be the case. Therefore, from the very beginning—you will find this described in the books I mentioned, along with the corresponding exercises needed to achieve this—therefore, from the very beginning, one must not only practice this concentration on ideas, but a second practice must also be undertaken. Through precisely the same free will, one must again be able to suppress—completely suppress—the ideas to which one has just turned with the greatest intensity, with heightened spiritual power, so that one learns to bring about what one might call: empty consciousness, a consciousness that is empty, as consciousness is otherwise empty only in sleep. But just as the inner composure of the soul—I might say—sinks and is completely numbed during sleep, so it remains active when one has engaged in meditation—as I have described it—prior to sleep. One then lives in that empty consciousness with full wakefulness. And I will have to explain to you how the very possibility of living in such empty consciousness makes it possible to enter a spiritual world.

[ 22 ] First, I would like to point out that anyone who has acquired the ability not only to experience individual images that arise in the imagination with devotion, but also to remove them from consciousness so that they can live awake in an empty state of consciousness, gradually acquires the ability to suppress everything that I have just characterized as the “body of image forces”—the great tableau of life that makes us understand, inwardly, the life of forces that has shaped us since our birth. One comes to the point where, after first having fully contemplated this entire inner life, one can then remove it from consciousness. But once one succeeds in establishing empty consciousness in relation to one’s own inner life content, then the second stage of human knowledge, which I have mentioned, also emerges with complete clarity—I ask you, my esteemed audience, not to take offense at these expressions; they are merely intended to represent a terminology, I mean nothing superstitious, nothing rooted in tradition, but only that which I myself characterize—I have called the second stage of human cognition: inspired cognition. The first stage, then, is imaginative cognition; the second stage is inspired cognition.

[ 23 ] By attaining this inspired insight through empty consciousness, one is able—first by suppressing the inner soul tableau of the body of formative forces—to extend consciousness beyond birth. One now experiences the soul—the soul-spiritual aspect of one’s own being—in the state it was in before it united, through birth—or, let us say, through conception—with the hereditary forces, which are the physical forces that a person received from their ancestors and parents. One comes to survey the destinies that the soul-spiritual aspect—the eternal core of the human being—has undergone before uniting with a physical human body. You may ask—my esteemed audience—how one can know that what one sees there truly belongs to an experience of the soul prior to birth or prior to conception. Ladies and gentlemen, I would like to clarify what appears before the anthroposophical researcher by means of a comparison. If I have any memory of an experience from ten years ago, then I know from the content of the memory itself that it is not something that has arisen in my consciousness at the present moment; rather, the very content of the memory points me back to the time ten years ago. Similarly, the content of what is experienced as spiritual-soul experiences indicates its own time in this context, so that one knows these are experiences of the soul before it entered an earthly physical body.

[ 24 ] As strange as this may still seem to humanity today, people will come to realize that spiritual faculties are developed with complete conviction and conscientiousness—not for the sake of speculation or to lose oneself in mystical obscurity, but to arrive at a true understanding of what constitutes the eternal, spiritual, and soulful core of the human being. This is what anthroposophy has to contribute to the further cultural development of humanity: it will show that experience itself must be further developed, and the lived experience itself must be intensified, so that human beings, through heightened insight, may come to perceive what their eternal core of being is. For this reason, anthroposophy can certainly proceed in the field of natural science in exactly the same way as even the most rigorous natural scientist does. It will not misuse the ordinary method of knowledge; within justified limits, it can certainly adhere to Haeckelian principles in the realm of external physics and affirm Haeckel, because, on the other hand, it knows precisely how to develop the faculties of knowledge that lead, as a first step, to a direct perception of the eternal, spiritual-soul core within the human being. Then—my esteemed audience—once one has thus developed this spiritual-soul core, once one has reached the stage of inspired knowledge, one comes to know not only what the human soul itself is, but just as one comes to know the sensory environment through the human body, which bears the senses within itself, so, through this recognition of one’s own soul-being, one also comes to know its spiritual environment as it existed in the bodyless state, [before] it entered into physical, earthly corporeality through birth or conception.

[ 25 ] But it is not enough to stop at this inspired insight. At first, only one aspect of the soul’s faculties is developed: the imaginative. The other aspect—the volitional aspect of human soul life—must also be developed. Then, one might say, the life of feeling and emotion, which lies right in the middle between the life of imagination and the life of will, follows of its own accord. This life of emotion is, after all, the most intrinsic, the most intimate element of human soul life. This follows from inspired and imaginative knowledge, and from that which I now wish to characterize further by showing how one can also lead the human will into the spiritual world and liberate it from the body.

[ 26 ] From the wide range of exercises that I have outlined and described in the aforementioned books, I would like to highlight a few fundamental principles that illustrate how this development of the will takes place.

[ 27 ] First, I would like to point out a very simple exercise, which, however, must be undertaken with perseverance and energy in order to yield truly positive results. It consists of starting from the realization that our ordinary thinking is, in fact, already permeated by the will at all times. It is certainly true that in abstract thinking we can distinguish between the soul’s faculties of imagination or thinking, feeling, and willing. In reality, however, everything—imagination, feeling, and willing—flows together within the soul. And even in the purest form of thinking, the element of will is always present. In this thinking, therefore, the element of will must first be developed for the sake of higher spiritual training. Now, however, ordinary thinking—and also the kind of thinking that people initially apply in the sciences with which they are familiar—is in harmony with external sequences of facts. What comes first is conceived of as earlier, and what comes later as later. And even if we free our thinking for ordinary life and ordinary science from external temporality and spatiality, we still need it in ordinary logic precisely so that we can determine how things are arranged in space and time. Even if we detach thinking from reality, this is still only a detour to approach true reality once again through thinking. But what is meant to be training of the will must tear this thinking away from the ordinary sequence of events, and this can be achieved by, if I may call it that, imagining things in reverse. Let’s suppose we imagine a melody or a drama in reverse—a drama retracing the events from the final scenes of the fifth act back to the opening scenes of the first act. When one imagines things in reverse in as small segments as possible, one is compelled to apply a stronger will to thinking than is otherwise the case. One can train thinking in this direction—or rather, the will that lives in thinking—particularly well by retracing one’s own daily experiences every evening in the smallest possible segments, starting with what one experienced that evening, moving back to the afternoon, then to the morning, and truly down to the minutest details—I would say— to the point of delving into the atomization of daily life, so that one imagines climbing a staircase in such a way that, once one has reached the top, one then walks backward in thought from the last step to the second-to-last and so on. You will see how this becomes increasingly difficult the smaller the segments you take. But it is precisely through this that you detach the will, which lives in thought, from the external sequence of events, and you will gradually notice how you not only detach it from the external sequence of events, but how you detach it from your own physicality. You can support yourself with other exercises, for example, by cultivating a certain habit of observing your own actions and the expressions of your own life as if a second personality were standing beside you. If one practices such self-observation—not in a nebulous way, but clearly; if, so to speak—though of course one cannot do this all the time, but only for brief periods as an exercise—if, so to speak, one observes every step, including every step of one’s inner life, as if from the outside, then one gains support for the element of will.

[ 28 ] When you then proceed to delve deeper into the soul, telling yourself: “You now intend to perform a very specific, clearly defined action at some point in the future,” you take this self-observation so far that it becomes active—that you take control of your own inner life, become the master of your own development, whereas before you had simply surrendered yourself to the flow of life. When one takes into one’s own hands what the stream of life accomplishes for the soul’s own development, one then succeeds in tearing the will away from ordinary physicality, from corporeality. Then one also steps outside one’s body with the will, and this volitional power—to be experienced outside the body—unites with the power of imagination that I have described.

[ 29 ] This, however, leads to the development of something within the human being that is rightly not regarded as a capacity for knowledge in ordinary life—and I know, my esteemed audience, how fully justified the reasons are for not considering the soul capacities referred to here to be capacities for knowledge— but when the human soul is elevated to the degree I have described, then the capacity for love, the devotion to some external reality, can indeed become a capacity for knowledge. And just as bodyless imagination—which is similar to memory but at the same time quite different from it—presents before us images of a life that we cannot otherwise perceive, so too does this will, which has become bodyless and now represents an elevated capacity for love, represent an elevated living out into reality and, since it is bodyless, into spiritual reality. We attain the capacity—which I have called “intuitive knowledge” in the aforementioned books—we attain the capacity not only to allow the revelations of a spiritual world to flow into us, as in inspired knowledge, but we also attain the capacity to live our way over into the foreign, external spirituality with our own lives. When I say “intuitive knowledge,” I naturally mean an elevation of what is also called “intuition” in everyday life—a form of knowledge that is not based solely on abstract-logical thinking, which is also referred to as “intuition” in everyday life. What I mean, however, is indeed a precise elevation of what is otherwise called intuition, and it represents a genuine, cognitive crossing over of the human being into objective spirituality. And once a person has attained this intuition, they then come to know the other side of their being from within themselves. Through what has been described so far, they reach the moment of their birth—that spiritual-soul aspect that preceded birth or conception. Now, by developing the will toward intuitive knowledge so that he can step out of himself with his will, he also attains knowledge of that which actually steps out of the human body when a person passes through the gate of death. Only at that moment does the human being recognize the spiritual-soul aspect that passes through the gate of death as the eternal, once he has grasped this spiritual-soul aspect through the development of his will in such a way that, in intuitive knowledge, it can truly step out of himself, out of the ordinary human being, out of the physical being. And now the human being beholds the essence of immortality from both sides: from the side of pre-birth and from the side of immortality, as it is commonly called. In this way, as I have already said, the human being also comes to know the spiritual environment in which they live before birth or conception and after death.

[ 30 ] But once one has grasped these two worlds—once one truly understands the sensory world in accordance with the laws of nature, and once one perceives the spiritual world through the faculties of cognition I have described—there is still something within the human being that cannot be explained by either of these two worlds. One now stands, so to speak, immediately after gaining knowledge of these two worlds—I call them “both worlds,” even though they constitute a single unity—one now stands before the mystery of the human inner being. But one also attains the ability to perceive within the human being that which unites both worlds through its development. And this is that aspect of the human being which passes through repeated earthly lives—which, at first, passes through these lives in such a way that it experiences existence here in the physical body between birth and death, or, let us say, between conception and death, and then another existence between death and a new birth. And as one learns to recognize what the soul attains through one life and another, by looking into the results of the development of both, one arrives at an insight into what underlies these repeated earthly lives. And these repeated earthly lives themselves also become an insight.

[ 31 ] You see—my esteemed audience—since I am speaking here in a serious sense about anthroposophy, I cannot present these ideas of repeated earthly lives to you as fantastical constructs. I must lay out before you everything the human soul must do in order to arrive at an understanding of these things. Of course, I must present this briefly today in an introductory lecture, and it could very easily lead to the impression that only those who have gone through everything I have described in principle—and in greater detail in the books mentioned—can gain insight into these realms. Now, these books are intended precisely so that everyone can perform the exercises outlined to a certain degree, and thus verify through direct experience what the anthroposophical researcher says. But the anthroposophical researcher makes use of ordinary common sense and ordinary thinking. And anyone who, uninfluenced by certain prejudices that are unfortunately so widespread today, simply asks themselves, “Is what is being presented here reasonable or unreasonable?” need not become a researcher themselves; rather, they can certainly form a judgment using their common sense regarding the value or lack thereof of the anthroposophical findings. Just as one does not need to be a painter to form an objective impression of a painting, so too does one not need to be an anthroposophical researcher to judge whether what emerges in anthroposophy is reasonable or unreasonable. Intuitive knowledge, in a certain sense, completes the stages of higher knowledge.

[ 32 ] Now—my esteemed audience—even ordinary life points to this intuition in a certain area. In my book, which was published quite some time ago—one I wrote in the early 1890s—in my *Philosophy of Freedom*, I pointed out how truly free human actions are based on impulses of non-sensual thought, on moral ideals that are created by human beings entirely independently of the body from a spiritual world; thus, in this *Philosophy of Freedom* from the early 1890s, I spoke of the deepest impulses of human moral life as moral intuitions. And I attempted, precisely through this, to grasp the concept of freedom in a way that sets the direction for today’s natural sciences, by showing that the question of whether human beings are free or unfree is entirely misguided; rather, the question must be framed in such a way that one recognizes that human beings are unfree in a great many of their actions, which spring from their instincts and drives, which are bound to the body. However, human beings develop toward an experience of intuitive-moral impulses that are of a purely spiritual nature and yet serve as the driving force for moral action. At this stage of development, as they grasp moral intuition, they are free. What I characterize today as the intuition of knowledge is merely an expansion and deepening of what every human being can actually experience in the moral world—provided they seek out this moral world in its impulses through genuine self-knowledge.

[ 33 ] That which gives human beings here in this world their true value, their true dignity—the moral being—is what, when properly understood—I might say—already points to the ultimate goal of all knowledge. And anthroposophy must then lead us to insert imagination and inspiration—as I have characterized them today—between intuition (which it, however, expands into the cosmic and the human) and ordinary cognition.

[ 34 ] Now—my esteemed audience—this is how one gains an understanding of one’s own eternal nature within the human being. But if one cultivates the abilities I have spoken of, then the world around us will also present itself to us in a different form. In a sense, the human being, as a complete human being, becomes a sensory organ for the external world. And whereas before the world appeared to us only—I might say—as a sensory tapestry, from which the intellect then discerns its laws, the spiritual world enters human consciousness—into the imaginative, inspired, and intuitive consciousness—in a new, transformed form, yet in such a way that the former, sensory aspect remains fully preserved. And it enters in such a way that the perception of nature, which is otherwise present in the person who becomes an anthroposophist, is preserved. While the hallucinator, the visionary, turns away from nature and, as a rule, has no love for nature, everything that external natural science and ordinary love of nature provide remains fully intact for the one who becomes an anthroposophical researcher. Only is this view—which is entirely in the spirit of external natural science—interwoven and permeated by the perceptions of the spiritual, which is always around us, just as the physical itself is. Now the external, physical world—if I may put it this way—appears, in a certain sense, in sharp contours, in finished forms.

[ 35 ] The spiritual insight attained in the manner described develops everything according to certain processes, toward an event, toward a becoming. As a result, natural and cosmic events take on a completely new character. And I certainly do not wish to shy away from—even though such things are still met with little sympathy today—describing concrete details as examples. We see, for example, the sun as a finite body in the heavens. We explore it through our science—through astronomy, astrophysics, and so on. But what appears to us as the sun takes on a new form in the light of the supersensible knowledge described above. It now appears not merely bound to the place where it usually appears; it appears as the solar principle, permeating, flowing through, and infusing the entire cosmos with its power. One learns to recognize the solar essence as permeating all spaces. And by relating it to the human condition, one learns to recognize the solar essence in its deeper meaning. To make myself clear, I would like to express myself in the following way.

[ 36 ] Because we are surrounded by the external world, which provides us with our experiences, we compare these experiences with the inner ideas and feelings we form in our souls as a result. And afterward, in our memory, we still have these experiences; we can relive them. We can relive something that is long past and reconnect with what is long past. There is thus a relationship between this—I would say—abstract-spiritual realm and the external, concrete sensory world. But there is also a relationship between the deeper aspects of our own human being and that which is recognized through supersensible perception. We carry within us the effect of the solar aspect, which spiritual contemplation finds before it. This solar aspect enters into our human being, just as an external sensory experience enters into our memories; only it forms something deeper within the human being. One must first recognize this deeper aspect solely through the kind of insight I have described; only then does one come to realize that everything within us that is a force of growth, a force of youthfulness—even the very force that transforms our nutrients within our own human processes—is the solar principle within us. We come to know the ascending, sprouting, and budding forces of the universe and the sprouting, budding, and rejuvenating forces within ourselves, in their interrelationships. In this way, we come to know a more intimate connection between the human inner being and the cosmos. Just as we learn to recognize the solar aspect in this way, so too do we learn to recognize the lunar aspect.

[ 37 ] Once again, we experience the moon as a self-contained, bounded, well-defined entity in sensory perception. In the spiritual perception I have described, this “lunar” quality becomes the forces of decay permeating all space and filling time in the cosmos; everything that breaks down, everything that paralyzes the cosmos, everything that leads to death is lunar power. And one might say: The solar and the lunar, as I am now describing them, are merely concentrated or consolidated in those bodies that we have made accessible to ourselves through external sensory perception. One comes to know the world as processes, as becoming, and these processes, this becoming, continue into one’s own human inner being. One also comes to know the outer realms of nature as they are permeated by such cosmic forces. Just as one comes to know the solar and lunar aspects, so too does one come to know other planetary or various forces of the universe—without superstitious mysticism, but through entirely precise observation that has been rigorously developed. One learns of the interplay of a cosmos that is to be grasped not merely mathematically or astrophysically, but spiritually and psychologically; one comes to know this interplay within human nature; one learns to recognize the interplay of such cosmic forces within the nature of plants and animals. One learns to recognize the solar quality that drives the plant to bloom, and the lunar quality in the withering of the plant world. One learns to recognize these forces even into the mineral kingdom.

[ 38 ] As one progresses toward this realization, one also comes to see that aspect of anthroposophical research through which anthroposophy has a fruitful influence on all other areas of life. And this is indeed the hope to which the anthroposophical researcher commits himself, and which—at least in part—has already been realized in its early stages: that anthroposophy can have a stimulating effect on the other sciences and on the practical areas of life.

[ 39 ] We already have a medical-therapeutic institute founded on anthroposophical principles in Dornach, and we also have one in Stuttgart. This medical-therapeutic institute is based on the research that can be conducted from an anthroposophical perspective on the relationship between human beings and the surrounding cosmos. By assimilating cosmic influences in this way—as I was only able to sketch out by referring to the recognition of the solar and lunar aspects—one attains not merely the understanding of human nature provided by conventional physiology or biology. One also comes to know the whole human being, but in such a way that the sharply defined features give way—they are preserved, yet at the same time they transform, revealing themselves from a different perspective as a process. Whereas in conventional biology, as we are accustomed to, one speaks of the lungs, heart, brain, and so on, from the perspective of anthroposophy one must speak of the brain process—which is vividly present, not merely inferred, nor merely demonstrated in its parts through external physical experiments, but actually observed; we must speak of the heart process, the lung process, and everything that constitutes the human being—of processes, of a becoming. All of this is, after all, merely the inner continuation of the ascending, sun-like becoming and the descending, moon-like becoming.

[ 40 ] And if one continues to explore these matters, one not only comes to understand the healthy human being and his organs, but also comes to understand the pathological [degradation and] regeneration processes, the proliferations, the paralyses, and the necrosis of the organs. One learns to recognize how processes can be held back in individual organs. One learns to recognize how processes can run rampant when one understands the interconnection of such internal processes of formation and breakdown. Through the processes of formation and breakdown in the universe, and through the solar and lunar principles, one can trace how these forces are present in the plant, mineral, and animal kingdoms. And this is where the remedies for certain diseases become apparent, through the knowledge that: a particular process of breakdown is taking place in the organ, and you must counteract it with that which exists as a process of breakdown externally—perhaps in this plant or that mineral. One learns to recognize the inner connection between the human organism and the kingdoms of nature. One learns to recognize how medicine can progress from mere trial and error to a rational understanding of both the healthy and diseased states of the human being; how pathology can become rational; how therapy can become rational; and how the processes of healing and disease can be understood. This is what emerges as a development on an anthroposophical foundation that is fruitful for medicine.

[ 41 ] I know very well—my esteemed audience—that even today one stirs up a hornet’s nest when one raises such issues, but the world has already had to become acquainted with many things that were unfamiliar in earlier times, and what was initially met with resistance has sometimes later become a matter of course. The anthroposophical researcher must simply take comfort in such things. Well, I simply wish to cite this example of the enrichment of medicine as an illustration of the enrichment of the individual sciences. Here in Stuttgart, too, we have a physiological, a physical, and a biological research institute, and we are making every effort to apply the anthroposophical method to the individual sciences in a thoroughly anthroposophical manner.

[ 42 ] But anthroposophy can also have a stimulating effect on other areas of life. We were—for anthroposophy has, after all, existed as a spiritual movement for quite some time now—we were, at a certain point in time, faced with the task of erecting a building of our own for the anthroposophical movement. Friends of the anthroposophical movement came together to create a building of their own for this movement. This building was erected as the Goetheanum, the School of Spiritual Science, in Dornach near Basel. What would have happened—my dear friends here today—if such a building had had to be erected by any other spiritual or cultural movement? They would have turned to an architect who would have provided a framework in the Renaissance, Rococo, or classical style, and what stands there today as a contemporary structure would then have been carried out within it.

[ 43 ] Anthroposophy could not proceed in this way. It does not wish to be something that expresses itself one-sidedly through ideas—something that is, so to speak, disseminated only theoretically—but rather something that directly engages the whole human being and therefore permeates all areas of life. If I may use a trivial comparison, let it be this: When one looks at a nut, one says to oneself: The nut is shaped by certain forces at work within it, but the shell is shaped in accordance with those same forces. Essentially, one cannot separate the laws governing the nut shell from the laws governing the nut kernel itself. The two are one! Anthroposophy, too, wishes to be one. Therefore, it must build its shell, its framework, its home from the same impulse—with a new architectural style, one that corresponds to its innermost impulses—just as the nut shell is shaped by the same natural forces and their directions as the nut kernel itself.

[ 44 ] And when, in Dornach, one speaks from the lectern through the language of ideas about what can be perceived in the spirit regarding humanity and the universe, then what is expressed in ideas through the language of thought should contain precisely the same life that is contained in the columns, the paintings, and the sculptures of this Goetheanum in Dornach. The form of art—without allegory, without flimsy allegory or abstract symbolism—neither one nor the other is found here—but rather, everything has flowed into genuine artistic forms. Everything is meant to speak from the same life from which one can speak in thought about the contents of spiritual vision. One feels, on anthroposophical ground, that one is approaching a view of art truly held in the spirit of Goethe. One perhaps gains the deepest insight into what Goethe strove for in the artistic realm when one recalls such statements by Goethe as this one: “Art is a manifestation of secret laws of nature that would never become apparent without it—namely, art.” — And Goethe also says: “To whom nature begins to reveal her manifest secret, that person feels the deepest longing for her most worthy interpreter, art.”

[ 45 ] Yes—my esteemed audience—it is possible to express one’s ideas about the mysteries of nature in artistic forms without becoming unartistic, allegorical, or symbolic; and by proceeding in this way, an architectural style emerges that is still unfamiliar today. Anthroposophy could not turn to anything else that would have served as an external framework. Anthroposophy does not want to be a theory; anthroposophy wants to be a way of life. Therefore, it also had to flow into the very forms of the architectural style that constitutes the building, that has shaped the building in which anthroposophy is first to take root.

[ 46 ] With this—my esteemed audience—I have alluded to a second field that can be enriched by anthroposophy: the field of art. Anthroposophy also aims to have a enriching effect on other areas of art. A eurythmy performance is to be given here in the coming days. On this occasion, we will be able to illustrate how anthroposophy can have a stimulating effect in the context of such a movement art.

[ 47 ] In Stuttgart, Emil Molt founded the Waldorf School, which I direct. This Waldorf School seeks to put into practice, in the field of education and teaching, the principles that arise from anthroposophical foundations. How does true knowledge of the human being emerge from these foundations? One learns to recognize the human being in their full being—body, soul, and spirit—not merely through abstractions, but through concrete observation. One learns to observe how the child, shaped by the spiritual and soul aspects, gradually forms the outer physical body. One learns to revere the divine-spiritual being already present in the child, and one learns to perceive a complete unity—a mutual shaping of the physical and the spiritual. Anthroposophy does not seek to establish “worldview schools” in the ordinary sense in the fields of education and pedagogy. We go so far as to leave matters such as religious worldview, for example, to the representatives of the various religious traditions for the time being. Catholic pastors teach the Catholic children at the Waldorf School, and Protestant pastors teach the Protestant children. However, since there were a large number of children from dissenting backgrounds at the Waldorf School from its very inception, it has been necessary for us to establish free religious instruction for them; this, however, is conducted in the same way as the other worldview classes. The school itself does not seek to impose any anthroposophical theories on the children, but rather aims to allow what flows from anthroposophical insight to find expression in its pedagogical and didactic skill and in the practice of education. Anthroposophy does not seek to stand in opposition to the achievements brought about by the great pedagogical traditions of the nineteenth century. Anthroposophy is aware of the significant principles that exist in this regard, but it also knows that the means must first be acquired in order to fulfill the legitimate pedagogical demands. These means can only lie in a profound understanding of the human being, and anthroposophy seeks to bring about these means through the very understanding of the human being that can be attained through spiritualized perception, as I have described today. In this way, anthroposophy seeks to have a fruitful influence on the field of education.

[ 48 ] Ladies and gentlemen, just how little true knowledge of human nature—knowledge suitable for education—actually exists today was made clear in a lecture delivered at the Anthroposophical Congress held last summer in Stuttgart. The topics—or at least certain aspects—discussed at this anthroposophical congress would have spread throughout the world and been widely discussed had they not arisen precisely on anthroposophical ground—that anthroposophical ground which is still so unpopular today. From the rich array of topics discussed, I would like to highlight the lecture—which has also been published—by Dr. von Heydebrand, a teacher at a Waldorf school. It demonstrates in an extremely compelling way how experimental pedagogy—toward which we are continually striving today—must be complemented by a direct perception of the soul-spiritual aspects in the child, as can flow from anthroposophy. Nor does anthroposophy oppose the validity of experimental pedagogy and psychology; rather, this validity attains its practical value precisely through being imbued with the spiritual. Anthroposophy never stands in opposition to the validity of scientific knowledge. In every area, it seeks to give due consideration to that which, upon proper and unbiased examination, naturally emerges from scientific knowledge itself—in complete harmony with the legitimate demands of the modern era regarding the scientific perspective.

[ 49 ] Ladies and gentlemen! In today’s world, it is particularly necessary to gain a deeper understanding of a field that is infinitely close to human beings—and whose proximity must be especially evident to us in the present, which has emerged from the great, terrible global catastrophe. For it was believed that human social life, too, could be governed by a set of laws that is one-sidedly based on the natural sciences. Social laws were modeled, and little by little—as if of their own accord, emerging from the unconscious—social forces were aligned with the laws of the natural sciences and natural processes. Anyone who observes life with an open mind can see the results of this today. One could point to many other examples besides Marxism to illustrate the social insights that can be derived from purely natural forces; one need only point to the devastating and destructive way in which this view is already having an effect in Eastern Europe today, precisely because it is being put into practice. What began in the East now hangs menacingly over Europe. And Europe—indeed, modern civilization as a whole—will escape this impending doom only if it once again immerses itself in that which is spiritual and soulful. When we regain a sense of the whole—of the whole human being in body, soul, and spirit—then we will also gain insights and perspectives regarding social life, including an understanding of how moral impulses can flow from the free, whole human being into social life. A one-sided economic perspective—even if it remains strictly economic—will lead to an understanding of a social structure that takes into account the whole, complete human being. A beginning was also made in this regard in the lecture that Emil Leinhas gave at the aforementioned Stuttgart Congress—which has already been published—in which Emil Leinhas demonstrated in an excellent manner how the current national economy has reached a kind of bankruptcy, and how no social impulses fruitful for life can be found within it. To translate into life—into social and moral life—that which is experienced through the human faculty of cognition: this is, above all, the task that anthroposophy sets for itself.

[ 50 ] And to mention one last thing—which is mentioned only as a final point, but is by no means the last in terms of its significance—I would like to draw attention to the fact that, just as anthroposophy can invigorate social impulses, it can also deepen that which does not act externally in human society but rather within the deepest inner being of the human being: the religious experience. Anthroposophy—oh, it is misunderstood when characterized in this way—Anthroposophy certainly does not intend to be anything sectarian, and most certainly not a new religious movement; it seeks to deepen what people can experience in their religious lives by illuminating it with the clarity of an understanding of spiritual life. Those who believe that anthroposophy endangers religion or even Christianity are succumbing to a grave misunderstanding; first, the misunderstanding that what they hold up as an ideal through blind faith can stand up to the other, growing body of scientific knowledge; and second, they succumb to the blind judgment that clarity—a clear insight into the spiritual world—could somehow be disruptive to the deepest piety. This deepest piety can, in fact, be strengthened precisely when it is attained on the basis of a genuine knowledge of the spirit. Anthroposophy does not seek to establish a sect or a new religion; rather, as a spiritual science, it aims to serve life, and it also aims to serve the innermost, most intimate, and religious life of human beings.

[ 51 ] And so, to conclude, I may well summarize what the essence of anthroposophy is intended to be. It should have become clear from my remarks this evening that anthroposophy is by no means in opposition to modern, progressive worldviews, but rather that it is fully in harmony with them. But just as the physical, the bodily, presents itself to us as the outward expression of the human being, and just as we experience through this physical, this bodily aspect its mobility, its physiognomic features, and its other manifestations of the spiritual and soul-life, so too, when we survey the realm of nature through rigorous natural science, must we recognize within that realm that which is inseparably connected to the human being’s eternal core of being—where the human being originates from that which is immortal within him and is one with the divine-spiritual essence of the world. And just as we can only fully understand a human being when we perceive the spiritual and soul aspects within their physical body, so too will we only fully understand the world, the cosmos, if we seek to contrast the external knowledge of natural science with the spiritual insight of anthroposophy. This is precisely what anthroposophy strives to do. It seeks to be in harmony with nature and the world by taking as its model the human being, in whose physical body the spiritual and soul aspects are revealed.

[ 52 ] Thus, my esteemed audience, anthroposophy seeks to view the knowledge of external nature with full appreciation, but would like to add something that may be present there: the animation, the spiritualization of this external natural science.