The Rudolf Steiner Archive

1. On the Higher Worlds

[ 1 ] At the request of your chairperson, we will discuss a topic today that requires a certain level of background knowledge from the audience; in other words, it is intended, in a sense, for advanced anthroposophists. In the upcoming public lectures, we will have the opportunity to take into account those who have heard little about the foundations of the anthroposophical worldview, and some of what may require clarification in the internal lectures, so to speak, will receive such clarification, at least in part, in the public lectures. When we speak of advanced anthroposophists, my dear friends, please do not take this to mean that, in order to be advanced in the field of spiritual science, one must have learned a great deal theoretically; that is not really what matters. What matters is not so much a world of such theories within the soul, but rather a certain development of our world of sensations, our world of feelings—a certain disposition, one might say—that one gradually acquires by working again and again within the anthroposophical circle.

[ 2 ] Those who have worked extensively and for many years within this circle, or who have been active within another such circle, will look back on the time when they first heard, so to speak, what anthroposophical spiritual science has to say to humanity, and they will recall that much of what came to them then as a first message seemed not only improbable but perhaps confusing, fantastical—if not, perhaps, even worse. But over time, those who then drew closer and closer to the anthroposophical worldview have become accustomed to a certain world of sensations and feelings that makes it possible to accept things communicated from the higher worlds just as one accepts accounts of facts that occur on the physical plane, in the physical world. What one might call “evidence” for the messages of spiritual science is by no means to be found in the same realm as the evidence for recognized scientific truths. Such a line of reasoning would not be of much use. The line of reasoning that becomes apparent to those who immerse themselves in the anthroposophical worldview lies in the profound inner transformation that the soul undergoes. And long before a person is fortunate enough to ascend, through the application of spiritual-scientific or occult methods, to a direct perception of the spiritual worlds, a premonition, a foreboding, takes shape within them regarding the truth and the profound validity of what is communicated about these higher worlds. Much of what can give us an idea of how a person can ascend into the higher worlds, and how they can perceive these higher worlds with their own spiritual senses, will be illustrated in the next lecture, “What Is Self-Knowledge?” Today we would like to offer some reflections—in a more narrative style—on these higher worlds and on the connection between these worlds and our physical world.

[ 3 ] From your previous studies in anthroposophy, you are all familiar with two other worlds besides our own: the so-called astral world and the so-called devachanic world—which the religions, as far as they are known in this country, call the heavenly world, but which is actually the spiritual world. You know these worlds primarily as realms that a human being must pass through between death and a new birth. You know, of course, that first the astral world is passed through as Kamaloka, and that then the human being enters a purely spiritual world, Devachan, where he matures toward a new birth, only to descend again after a certain time to a new earthly life, a life in the physical world.

[ 4 ] However, it is not enough to simply imagine the astral and devachan worlds as certain realms that a person passes through between death and a new birth; rather, these worlds are constantly all around us. We live constantly not only in the physical world, but also in the astral or soul world, which surrounds us with its beings and realities. One can describe this astral or soul world by saying that it permeates our physical world, just as a sponge is saturated with water. The only difference between these two worlds and our physical world is that our physical world is perceived through the faculties of our body, and that these higher worlds are initially beyond human perception because we have not developed the sensory organs necessary for them. Just as truly as they exist within our world, their effects continually play out within it. And much of what takes place in the physical world would be easier for human beings to explain if they were familiar with the spiritual astral and Devachan worlds lying behind it—if they knew that within our sphere there are beings around us and phenomena that cannot be perceived or comprehended by our senses. The astral world contains not only phenomena that unfold supersensually in our surroundings; it also contains beings who, if we may put it that way, are embodied in the substance of this world just as human beings—the self-conscious human being—are bound here in the physical world to flesh and blood. The difference between these beings and those just described is that these beings do not assume physical bodies dense enough to be seen with our physical eyes. Their coarsest body is the astral body.

[ 5 ] Now, when we speak of these beings—who, like humans, have the astral body as the lowest link in their spiritual organism, just as humans have the physical body as the lowest link—we must point out from the outset how those whose clairvoyant consciousness is open, and who are thus able to see, perceive these beings. These beings differ quite significantly from the beings of our various kingdoms of nature that exist on the physical plane. We are surrounded here by minerals, plants, animals, and human beings. If we were to identify a characteristic feature of these beings in the various kingdoms of nature, it would be the permanence, the constancy of form. A person you saw today, you will still recognize tomorrow or the day after, or even years later, because their outer form has remained constant. The same is true of animals, plants, and minerals. This is by no means the case with beings who are embodied only on the astral plane. Their form is constantly changing—a form that, for many beings, changes from one moment to the next; for the form perceived on the astral plane is an exact reflection of these beings’ inner soul experiences and soul activities.

[ 6 ] Just imagine, when you reflect on your soul in the morning, after you have just received a joyful letter, and the glad news has filled your soul with joy and delight—and this feeling, so to speak, lives within your soul—now imagine if you were to change your outward appearance each time in accordance with the life of your soul; how different these images would look compared to the afternoon, for example, when you receive news of a death, or at the moment when anger and fear make you tremble. If, then, your outward appearance were to change each time and express what is going on within your soul, you would have a picture of what is happening on the astral plane. Hence the confusing, fleeting, and constantly changing nature of the forms of astral beings. Thus, you must imagine that when clairvoyant consciousness turns its attention away from the physical plane, it is surrounded by such a world of astral images. Of course, everything that takes place there cannot be described; only details can be sketched out.

[ 7 ] Life on the astral plane is much richer than in the physical world. Just imagine that in the astral world, luminous images—which are not attached to any external object—flit by; that they have a certain form, being either bright or less bright, less luminous or dim; that they change at every moment; and that they are nothing other than an expression of souls—let us say—that live there on the astral plane. But these luminous bodies display not only light and various color formations, but also all other sensory impressions similar to those in the physical world; only these are perceived not with the external senses, but with the soul’s spiritual organs.

[ 8 ] There is a difference between the perception of a body of light on the astral plane and that of a color or a body of light on the physical plane. In contrast, when light appears there, consciousness does not feel as if it were outside of it, but rather feels: “You are living within it.” - This is quite difficult to imagine at first; for you must consider that at the very moment when clairvoyant consciousness awakens in a person, the person feels something more than simply that space is filling with astral realities and beings—rather, they feel as if they were growing, as if they were becoming larger and larger. Consciousness expands: “This is me”—beyond the skin. This is the essence of clairvoyant consciousness. The person feels as if they were spreading out and crawling into what they perceive, so that they live within these luminous bodies and feel sensations of warmth and cold; they also perceive taste. All these sensations, which he initially knows from the sensory world and which are linked here to the outwardly limited body, flow through and flit across the space, and above all, something else occurs. Here in the physical world, a person naturally has the feeling that only that which is, so to speak, spatially connected to a being belongs to that being. You would be quite surprised if one physical being were to run into space, followed by another, and someone were to claim that the two belong together, even though there is no connection between them. One would regard them as separate beings; for one would never regard spatially separate bodies in the physical world as a single being. In the astral world, it is certainly the case that what is not at all spatially connected constitutes a being, and there you have no other criterion for recognizing that it is a being than that, let’s say, you are inside it and now have the awareness that these two completely separate parts belong to a single entity. What is confusing, then, is that clairvoyant consciousness is not always consistent, and that what belongs together cannot always be perceived as such. Indeed, it can go even further: You may see a being that appears to you as a series of separate spheres—a luminous sphere here, a second one far away, then a third, a fourth, and so on. From this, you will see that things look fundamentally different on the astral plane than they do here.

[ 9 ] But there is something that is connected to the human being itself and that, through this connection, simultaneously manifests all the characteristics of the astral world as effects upon the human being; this is the human being’s own astral body. This is the third member of the human being’s being, about which you have learned that it has, in a certain sense, a self-contained form. During the life between birth and death, however, one can see that, in essence, the astral body appears as a kind of oval cloud in which the physical and etheric bodies are embedded. The body is a sort of egg-shaped form, on whose outer boundaries there are constant undulating movements, so that there can be no question of regularity. The astral body exhibits a relatively firm, constant form as long as it is enclosed within the physical body. As long as this is the case, this form remains. Already at night, when the astral body withdraws, it begins to adapt to the soul body. One can already see how a person who lives with malicious feelings during the day takes on a different form at night than a person who has lived with good feelings during the day. In general, however, the form of the astral body persists during the night because the forces of the physical and etheric bodies are very strong and continue to exert their influence even at night, thereby preserving the astral body’s form in essence—but only in essence.

[ 10 ] But when a person, upon death—after the end of his physical life—first sheds the physical body and then also sheds that part of the etheric body that is to be shed, the astral body already takes on a constantly changing form during the kamaloka period. This body is entirely adapted in its form and appearance to the person’s soul life, so that a person who has lost their body at death while harboring ugly feelings takes on a repulsive form, whereas a person who has died with beautiful feelings manifests beautiful, appealing forms of the astral body. It can go so far that people who are completely absorbed in sensual desires and who cannot rise to any noble feelings or impulses actually take on the form of all sorts of grotesque animals for a time after death—not such as those that live on the physical plane, but those that merely resemble them. Now, anyone who has experiences on the astral plane and can observe the forms that present themselves to clairvoyant consciousness knows which image corresponds to a soul with noble content and which to one with ignoble content; thus, everything about these forms can be experienced and perceived. I have already said that this astral human body by no means absolutely exhibits specific inner and outer forms; rather, this is the case only within certain limits. Even in physical life—specifically in that part of the body that leaves the physical form after falling asleep—the astral body adapts in a certain way to what the soul is experiencing. And from certain formations and shapes that the astral body takes on, one can see what is going on within the person and what they are experiencing.

[ 11 ] I would like to share with you a few things regarding certain experiences the soul can have—namely, how the astral body is then perceived. Suppose a person is talkative, curious, or prone to a quick temper or other similar, let’s say, vices. These vices manifest themselves in a very specific way in his astral body. If, for example, a person is plagued by anger or irritation—especially if he is quick-tempered—then nodular formations appear in his astral body: densifications within the astral body. It becomes impure. From these densifications emerge rather unsightly, snake-like extensions that also differ in color from other substances. This can be easily observed, particularly in people who are quick-tempered. When people are talkative, this manifests itself particularly in the astral body exhibiting all sorts of densifications that could be characterized as exerting pressure in all directions within the astral body. When people are curious, this manifests in the astral body by it becoming wrinkled; certain parts become wrinkled and flaccid, and, so to speak, certain parts droop toward one another; a general flaccidity becomes apparent. You see, then, that this astral body of the human being shares, in a certain sense, the general characteristics of the astral world, adapting its form to the inner soul experiences of the human being.

[ 12 ] Now, when we explore the astral world in general, we first encounter certain beings of which a person who knows only the physical world can actually have no idea. Above all, this physical world appears to him in a completely different way than it did before. For example, we find the group souls of animals to be very special entities. Human beings, as we encounter them here, have an individual soul, each of which possesses an “I”-entity of its own. Animals do not possess an “I”-entity in the same way. Among them, the similarly shaped forms—that is, all lions, all tigers, all turtles—share what can be called a common, group soul. And you must imagine that on the astral plane there exists an “I”-entity, regardless of where the animals live in the physical world. All are embedded in a “selfhood” that is a true personality on the astral plane, and there one can encounter this personality—this group soul—just as one encounters a human being here.

[ 13 ] Here is an example: Consider the migration of birds, when they begin to fly from northern regions toward the equator. Anyone who does not merely observe these truly extraordinarily wise migrations superficially will be amazed at how much of what we call intelligence is involved in such a bird migration. Some migrate to one region, others to another; they face dangers, yet they land exactly where they need to. Ordinary physical consciousness sees only the flocks flying by. Clairvoyant consciousness, however, perceives the group soul and the workings of the personalities who guide and direct what is taking place. In fact, it is such astral personalities that guide and direct the whole. It is these group souls that first appear to us as a population of the astral world. The diversity that prevails in the group soul of animals on the astral plane—this variety—is infinitely greater. It should be mentioned in passing that there is room for everyone on the astral plane because beings interpenetrate one another there; for the law of impenetrability applies only to the physical plane. Yet when they are interpenetrated, they feel the influences—both good and evil—and in their inner experience they sense this interpenetration. Thus, they can pass through one another; they can also live in one and the same place. The law of interpenetration prevails there.

[ 14 ] But this, in turn, is only a part of the astral population—though one that we can only truly recognize in the full, proper sense once we fully comprehend it. Do not think that someone who is, let us say, attentive to how a group soul of any animal form is embedded in the astral world—and how his consciousness is guided upward toward that group soul—already has a concept of that group soul. That is not enough. It is precisely here that we vividly encounter the fact that what is spatially separated belongs together, so that for every animal group soul—which wisely guides the whole—we have a counter-image, and indeed a terrible one. This is the nature of animality: it points upward into the astral world, but then points downward into that part of the astral world where ugliness and adversity reign, so that for every animal group we have a figure of light and an ugly figure, which has separated itself from the figure of light as the evil, ugly element that was once within it. Now you can see how the ancient images and works of art arose from a higher insight. Today, people recognize as an individuality only what lives within human beings. And so, if one wishes to depict something higher, one can only resort to the imagination. That was by no means always the case. Back then, when a large portion of humanity—particularly those engaged in artistic work—possessed a certain clairvoyant consciousness or at least traditions of clairvoyance, people always depicted what actually exists in the higher worlds. And so, in the familiar story of Michael and the dragon or Saint George and the dragon, you have a wonderful depiction of the conditions that the clairvoyant always encounters on the astral plane with regard to animal forms. It elevates him to a higher form that is wise and far surpasses human wisdom. But this wisdom has been attained by casting out the evil side from the astral nature of such beings. You see this evil form in the malevolent dragon. When the clairvoyant looks up from the living form, he sees everything that is ordained for the living form by the higher being, who is wise but does not know love. But this development of the luminous soul form has been achieved only by trampling underfoot the evil qualities that were present in the being’s form. Human beings have attained their present nature by still mixing good and evil in their karma today, whereas the moral distinctions between good and evil do not apply to animals. But the concept of the luminous being is linked to the ascent, while that of the fallen state is linked to what has been overcome. Ancient art has mostly created in this way through meaningful symbols, and what was created there is nothing more than the result of clairvoyant observations. This will only be understood when one recognizes the astral archetypes once more.

[ 15 ] The plant kingdom, too, presents something peculiar on the astral plane. When the clairvoyant observes a plant—rooted in the ground, with leaves and flowers—he first sees the plant consisting of the physical body and the etheric body. Animals also have an astral body. Now you might ask: Do plants have no astral body at all? It would be wrong to claim that; it is simply not inside them, as it is inside animals. When the clairvoyant consciousness observes the plant, it sees—particularly at the top, where the flowers are or are forming—the entire plant immersed in an astral cloud, a luminous cloud that surrounds and envelops the plant, especially in those parts where it blooms and bears fruit. So the astral nature descends, as it were, upon the plant and envelops a part of it. The plant’s astral body is embedded in this astral nature. And the remarkable thing about this is that, if you imagine the entire vegetation covering the Earth, you will find that the astral bodies of the plants adjoin one another and form a whole, by which the Earth is enveloped—just as it is by physical air—by the astral nature of the plants. If plants had only an etheric body, they would grow in such a way that they would produce only leaves and no flowers, for the principle of the etheric body is repetition. When a repetition is to be completed and a conclusion formed, an astral body must be added.

[ 16 ] In this way, you can observe in the human body itself how the etheric and astral bodies interact. Consider the successive vertebrae of the spine. One vertebra follows another. As long as this process continues, the etheric principle is the dominant force in the organism. At the top, where the bony skull begins, the astral predominates; in fact, the astral holds the upper hand there. Thus, the principle of repetition is the principle of the etheric, and the principle of completion is that of the astral. The plant would not be completed at the top in the flower if the astral aspect of the plant’s nature did not descend into the etheric.

[ 17 ] If you observe a plant as it grows throughout the summer, bears fruit in the fall, and then begins to wither—that is, when the flower begins to die—the astral aspect withdraws upward from the plant once again. This is particularly beautiful to observe. While a person’s physical consciousness can take joy in the blooming of plants in the spring—as field after field becomes covered with magnificent blossoms—there is yet another joy for the clairvoyant consciousness. As autumn approaches and the annual plants wither away, they glow and flit upward like darting figures—astral beings emerging from the plants that have nourished them throughout the summer. Here again is a fact that confronts us in a poetic image, one that cannot be understood unless the clairvoyant consciousness can be followed here. We are already in an intimate realm of astral consciousness. But among the peoples of antiquity, where such intimate clairvoyants existed, this vision was already present in the fall. Among the clairvoyant peoples of India, you find depicted in art the wondrous phenomenon of a butterfly or a bird flying out of a flower calyx. This is yet another example of how something in art rises to the surface, rooted entirely in clairvoyant consciousness from those distant times, when either clairvoyant consciousness was at work in the artists or was preserved as a tradition.

[ 18 ] An astral body is therefore also present in the plant. The animal has a physical body, an etheric body, and an astral body. We have found the animal’s “I” in the group soul. We have now spoken of the astral body of the plant, which we have characterized, when the plant withers, as a being that withdraws. Does the plant also have a “I”? Yes, there is the same thing for plants as what we call the group soul in animals, only here the peculiarity prevails that all the plant “I’s” are directed toward a single point on Earth, namely the center of the Earth. It is as if the Earth were being irradiated from all sides by the group-I’s of all plants, and that is why the plant grows toward the Earth. This “I,” however, cannot be observed on the astral plane. There the clairvoyant finds the animal group souls. He also finds those dual beings, as we have seen them in the symbol of Michael with the dragon. He also finds what has now been described, but he would search in vain for the plant “I’s” on the astral plane. These are found only in the higher, truly spiritual world, in the coarser, lower regions of Devachan, in the Rupa-Devachan. There are the actual plant souls, the plant “I’s,” and they are all interlocked in such a way that, with their true centers, they are all united within one another, united in the center of the Earth.

[ 19 ] This may raise the question: Since the physical plane, the astral plane, and the devachanic plane are actually intertwined—so that the clairvoyant is spatially located nowhere other than where the physical human being is—how does one actually distinguish one from the other? It is easy to explain how the physical plane differs from the astral plane. The physical plane exists as long as one sees, hears, and feels; and when a person develops inner abilities, astral beings become distinguishable to them both within and between the physical realm. Where such beings—which cannot be perceived by physical organs—enter our consciousness, there the astral plane begins. But when, then, does the Devachanic Plane begin? It is possible to draw boundaries between the astral and Devachanic planes, even though they blend into one another; there is certainly both an external and an internal way to recognize the ascent from the astral to the Devachanic Plane. The external way is as follows: When a person develops their clairvoyant consciousness, they must first experience moments in life when they, in a certain sense, leave the physical world behind. This is already a higher stage of human development—when they perceive, so to speak, the physical world and, simultaneously, the astral world interpenetrating it; that is, when they see, for example, the physical form of an animal and the astral body of that animal. But this can only be achieved at a certain stage of development, after one has gone through something else—namely, the experience of not seeing the physical world when one sees the astral world.

[ 20 ] This immersion of the human being into the astral world at the beginning of development is evident in the following process. A person is in a certain place. They hear all sorts of sounds around them, see objects, touch them, and taste them. As the person gradually becomes attuned to the astral world through clairvoyance, these sensory impressions begin to recede farther and farther from them, so that sounds seem to come from farther and farther away and then disappear entirely. The same is true of tactile perceptions: the person will gradually cease to perceive what is normally touched as something immediate; he will penetrate bodies with certain sensations, reaching into them. The same applies to the world of colors and the world of light; the person expands, immersing himself in this world of light. Thus, the sensory world withdraws from the human being, and in its place come the phenomena discussed earlier. The first thing that must be observed here is that, where the astral world is truly entered, sound perceptions, auditory perceptions, the world of sound—the world of tones—are, so to speak, completely extinguished. For a time, these are entirely absent from the astral world. The human being must, so to speak, pass through this abyss of living in a soundless world. However, this world is characterized by the presence of manifold impressions, notably a differentiated world of images. As the person ascends further in their development, they come to know something that is now entirely new to them—namely, what might be described as a spiritual counterpart to the world of sound. Within the astral world, they first experience what emerges as spiritual hearing. This, of course, is difficult to describe.

[ 21 ] Now suppose the following: You see a luminous figure. Another comes toward it; they approach each other and merge. A third comes along, crosses their path, and so on. Now, what presents itself to you is not merely perceived by your clairvoyant consciousness; rather, it stirs the most varied feelings within your soul. Thus, feelings of spiritual delight may arise within you, followed by feelings of displeasure—but a wide range of nuanced emotions as the beings interpenetrate, or as they draw near or move apart. And this is how the soul, as it becomes clairvoyant, becomes attuned, so that the interactions on the astral plane are gradually permeated and infused with sublime or conflicting feelings of a purely spiritual nature. This is the spiritual music that is perceived. But the moment this occurs, one is already in the realm of Devachan. Thus, Devachan begins externally where the silence begins to cease—a silence that, in part, is a terrifying silence on the astral plane. For human beings have no idea what it means to live in an infinite silence that not only offers no sound but also reveals that it contains none within itself. The feeling of deprivation in the physical world is a trifle compared to the feelings of the soul when it senses the impossibility that anything can resound from the infinitely expanding space. Then the possibilities arise to perceive the interaction of beings, their harmony and disharmony—the world of sound begins. This is Devachan, viewed externally in its forms.

[ 22 ] There are other ways in which a soul’s perception can signal the transition from the astral world to Devachan. In the physical world, a person’s soul perceives things according to their character. One person walks past a picture and feels nothing, while another feels a world of bliss simply by standing before it. People pass one another by; one says of the other that they are the right one and, by virtue of their soul’s nature, sees that they belong to the other—they feel a joy that lights up within them. In the higher worlds, however, this is actually no longer the case very soon. There, human beings are driven by an inner necessity to seek out experiences of the emotional world, and there you cannot simply pass by certain experiences of the astral and devachanic planes with cold detachment or sobriety; rather, certain experiences demand your devotion and full immersion, while others, on the other hand, repel you.

[ 23 ] This is what can be dangerous for someone who is not properly prepared, because he must live amid constantly changing sensations that, under certain circumstances, can destroy him from within, tear him apart internally, and therefore inevitably have a detrimental effect on his health. There, he can perceive, step by step, in which world he finds himself. While in the astral world, they experience primarily two emotional nuances in the most varied ways. One of these is particularly pronounced when a person, immediately after death, finds themselves in that region of the astral world we call Kamaloka. There, so to speak, they have not yet detached their feelings from life in the physical world; there, they long for it and yearn for it. Take, for example, a gourmet who craves delicious food. After death and the transition into the astral world, he still has the desire, but no longer the physical organs. Therefore, he greedily yearns for what only the tongue and palate can offer a human being. Consequently, what he experiences in his soul becomes the most agonizing aspect of this feeling—the feeling of deprivation. Deprivation is, in general, something that exists on one side of our emotional world when we are in the astral world. Once one has developed consciousness there, one does not experience that agonizing deprivation that a deceased person feels, but the feeling of searching for something—the feeling of deprivation—will also overcome the clairvoyant if there were not something else to maintain balance. If he enters the astral plane unprepared or not properly prepared, this will make itself felt. The soul finds neither rest nor peace; a restlessness, an agitation, will drive the soul from one place to another. To avoid this, there is only one thing to do: the opposite emotional nuance must be cultivated, and in all secret schools this emotional nuance is prepared: renunciation. One prepares for a proper life in the astral world through everything that can, in a certain sense, be described as renunciation. If you deny yourself even the smallest trifle here, it is certainly true that you are, so to speak, laying a stone on the path to the astral plane. A calmer view of the astral world is attained by preparing oneself through the emotional world of renunciation. While the feeling of desire turns the astral world into a world of pain and displeasure, what is achieved through renunciation enables one to observe the forms and beings of the astral plane ever more clearly and distinctly, so that one no longer has to waver back and forth between desire and renunciation. These are the emotional nuances on the astral plane, and as long as these are predominantly active in the soul, one remains on the astral plane.

[ 24 ] Then come new emotional experiences of the soul. Above all, where the soul crosses the boundary of the Devachan world, a feeling of bliss and happiness makes itself felt. Even if one were to enter Devachan unworthily—that is, if one were able to enter it before death through some spell or black magic—one would very soon find oneself swimming in a sea of bliss of varying degrees. Now one might say, “Isn’t it strange that even an unworthy entry into Devachan bestows a sense of bliss?” That is true, but in a certain sense it also has its drawbacks, is the answer. This feeling of ebbing and flowing bliss is inseparably linked on the Devachanic plane to something else, namely, the loss of the self, the power of self-awareness, the inner “I”-power. We would dissolve if another emotional nuance were not added. This is what is called in Esoteric Science the feeling of self-sacrificing devotion, the capacity for sacrifice.

[ 25 ] On the astral plane, then, we find deprivation and self-denial; on the devachanic plane, bliss and a willingness to sacrifice. And it is strange, yet true, that if a person on the Devachanic plane did not have the feeling at all: “You must devote yourself to what is around you”—but instead wanted only to enjoy bliss with his “I”—he would dissolve into the sea of Devachanic beings. But if he imbues himself with the feeling: “I want to sacrifice myself; I want to let what I have acquired flow out”—then he preserves himself in Devachan from dissolving, from perishing. The highest feeling of love—creative love—must be present as a second emotional nuance in Devachan. And this is something that also helps you understand how the work in Devachan takes place between death and a new birth. As the human being enters Devachan from Kamaloka—where he initially lived in deprivation and shortened the duration of his stay by learning to renounce—he must immediately begin the work of his next incarnation. Slowly, they build up the archetypes of their next earthly life. They will build it all the better if they have learned to add to the feeling of bliss—which inevitably arises—the self-sacrificing devotion of their being to their surroundings. To the extent that they sacrifice themselves with their soul, to that extent does the archetype of their future personality take shape. If he were unable to do this, he would either perish completely or take an incredibly long time before he could return to an earthly existence. Thus we see, so to speak, how the soul encounters external limits in its forms—during the transition from the silent, luminous astral world to the resounding world of Devachan; but far more important is how it immerses itself inwardly into the other world. — These are a few hints regarding the conditions of the higher worlds, which a person enters upon by observing the ancient Greek maxim, “Know thyself!” Much more could be added, but one can always provide only a fragment of what is relevant to the characterization of the higher worlds. In this way, one gradually becomes attuned to these realms, and as one does so, one will also learn to recognize their effects on the physical world, and thus this world, too, will become ever more transparent.