The Rudolf Steiner Archive

Anthroposophy II

[ 1 ] In our first lecture on anthroposophy the day before yesterday, we essentially just listed the human senses—though in a way that arises from the human being itself. We did not jumble them together haphazardly, as is usually done in sensory physiology—where the corresponding connections cannot be recognized—but rather listed and arranged them in a comprehensive manner, corresponding to the reality of the human being. And today, since the realm of the human senses is among the most important aspects we will need in our further exploration of the human being, it will be our task to examine this human sensory world in even greater depth.

[ 2 ] We began with the meaning we called the “sense of life,” “purpose of life,” or “vital sense.” We will have to ask ourselves: What, in the true spirit of the word, is the basis of this sense of life?—We must delve quite deeply into the subconscious depths of the human organism if we are to form a picture of the source of what is called the sense of life. Of course, we can only sketch out the basics here. First of all, there is a unique interaction between the physical body and the etheric body. This fact becomes apparent when one attempts, through spiritual scientific research, to determine what underlies the sense of life. It is truly the case that the lowest member of the human being—the physical body—and the etheric body enter into a very specific relationship with one another. This occurs because something else arises in the etheric body and settles within it, permeating it, so to speak. The etheric body is permeated and flowed through by something else. This “something else” is something that, in essence, human beings today are not yet consciously aware of within themselves. Spiritual science, however, can tell us what is at work within the etheric body, permeating it—figuratively speaking—like water permeating a sponge. When this is investigated from the perspective of spiritual science, one finds that it is identical to what human beings will one day, in the distant future, develop as the spiritual human being or the Atma. Today, human beings do not yet possess this Atma of their own accord; it must first be bestowed upon them, so to speak, from the surrounding spiritual world. It is bestowed upon them without their being able to participate in it consciously. Later, in the distant future, they will have developed it within themselves. It is therefore the spiritual human being, or Atma, that permeates and infuses the etheric body. What, then, does this Atma do in the etheric body? Today, human beings are not yet capable of having a spiritual being or Atma within themselves, for at the present time this is still a superhuman entity within the human being. This superhuman aspect, the Atma, expresses itself by contracting—indeed, cramping—the etheric body. If we wish to use an image from the external sensory world to illustrate this, we could compare it, for example, to the freezing effect of cold. What will one day be the highest member of the human being—for which he is not yet ripe—is the very thing that causes him to cramp up. The consequence of the etheric body cramping up is that the human astral body—the astral aspect—is, as it were, squeezed out; and to the extent that the etheric body is compressed, the physical body is also strained. Frost-like tensions arise within it. It is, in other words, as if you were squeezing out a sponge. The astral body, so to speak, lets off steam; it is squeezed out, pressed out. The processes in the astral body are now emotional experiences—experiences of pleasure and displeasure, of joy and pain, and so on. It is this process of being squeezed out that manifests within us as a sense of life—as a sense of freedom, for example, as a sense of strength, or as a sense of weariness,

[ 3 ] Now let us ascend to the second sense. We have identified the sense of self-movement as the second sense. Here, too, something is at work in the human etheric body that we do not yet consciously possess. And once again, we can use the analogy of the sponge. For here, too, the etheric body is saturated and permeated like a sponge by water; and what now permeates and flows through it is the life spirit, or Budhi, which it will one day develop from within itself. Today, of course, this is given to us, as it were, only provisionally from the spiritual world. Budhi, or the life spirit, acts differently than the spiritual human being. It acts in such a way that a balance—like that found in still water—is established within the astral body. The balance in the etheric body and then in the physical body results in a state of equilibrium within the astral body. When this equilibrium is disturbed from the outside, it seeks to restore itself. When we perform a movement, whatever has become unbalanced is restored to equilibrium. If, for example, we extend our hand, an astral current flows back in the opposite direction of the extended hand, and this is true of all movements in our organism. Whenever a change occurs in a physical posture, an astral current moves in the opposite direction within the organism. This is true when we blink our eyes, and it is true when we move our legs. The sense of self-movement is revealed in this internally experienced process of balancing within the astral body.

[ 4 ] We now come to a third element that can permeate the human etheric body. This third element is also something that human beings already possess to some extent today, but have brought into their consciousness only to a very small degree, namely Manas, or the spiritual self. But because it is the human being’s earthly task to develop this Manas, it is understandable that it acts upon the etheric body differently than the life spirit or the spiritual human being, which are to be developed only in the distant future. It has an expansive effect on the etheric body, not a constricting one, and the result is that the opposite of what has been described as the “frosty” quality associated with the life spirit occurs. One could compare the effect of Manas on the etheric body to the influx of warmth into a room. Something like a stream of warmth pours into the etheric body when Manas enters, causing it to expand elastically. As a result, the astral body is now also thinned out and can expand along with it, but without being squeezed out; it can remain within the expanding etheric body. While the sensory perception associated with the sense of life is based on the astral body being pushed outward, what has been called the sense of balance or equilibrium arises from the fact that the etheric body expands and, at the same time, the astral body gains more internal space. The astral body becomes less dense within itself; it becomes thinner. As a result of this thinning of the astral and etheric bodies, the physical substance is now also given the opportunity to stretch and expand in some way. Through the action of Atma, the physical body was contracted; through the action of Budhi, it was kept in balance; but through the action of Manas, the physical body is relieved, and since the etheric body also expands, it can push its particles outward in certain places. Through this outward pushing, those organs—the three small semicircular canals in the ear—have also come into being; they stand perpendicular to one another, corresponding to the three directions of space. They are, so to speak, expansions of the sensory matter of the physical body. Such organs arise in a wide variety of ways as new formations, as marvelous structures that do not come into being through an inward impulse, but rather because external pressure ceases—that is, diminishes—and relief sets in. Because the astral body can expand further, it is able to enter into a relationship with the external world. It must establish a balance with this external world. If this does not happen, the person stands crookedly or even falls over. This was not an issue for the first two senses, but this sense has the task of establishing equilibrium. When we strive toward something, we must do so as best we can; for example, we must strive into space in its three directions. That is why those three semicircular canals in the ear run perpendicular to one another in the three directions of space. If these organs are damaged, the sense of balance ceases to function, and the person experiences dizziness, fainting spells, and the like. When it comes to animals, the situation is such that they descended into physical matter too early, so that physical matter has hardened even further within them. Stone-like formations—the otoliths—actually develop. They are arranged in such a way that balance can be measured and perceived through them.

[ 5 ] We have thus discussed, moving from the inside out, so to speak, three senses. The last sense lies right on the border between what a person experiences internally and what they must experience in order to integrate themselves into the external world. Recently, external science—which is rooted in sensory facts—has, so to speak, been forced to finally acknowledge these three realms of our sensory organization. In doing so, we must make a sharp distinction, as we always do here, between what is the actual result of research and the opinions currently held by the collective mind of scholars with their inadequate thinking. It has shown, precisely in this field, how it is bound to err when it lacks the guide that leads through the labyrinth, for it is precisely here that the problem lies most profoundly. Thus, these structures—which constitute a human sensory organ—have been compared to certain organs in the plant kingdom, where a kind of balance is also achieved when plants tilt, through the rearrangement of such tiny particles. But because the modern thinker is, as a rule, always abandoned by logic precisely when he ought to have a correct understanding of things, he has arrived at the peculiar conclusion that plants, too, possess a sense of balance. Such logic, however, is based on the point of view that I have often characterized and illustrated with an analogy. Because a certain plant closes its leaves to catch an insect when it approaches, people superficially conclude that the plant must possess a corresponding sense. I know, however, a device that can do this far more effectively; it even goes so far as to lure small animals toward it and snap them up—namely, the mousetrap. By the same token that one applies what is said of human senses to plants, one could also apply it to the mousetrap. We could just as foolishly apply this to a scale with its balance and speak of a “sense of balance” in the scale. Such absurdities stem from insufficient thinking—thinking that cannot expand sufficiently and that cannot properly penetrate the essence of the matter. .

[ 6 ] Thus, we have three senses over which science today, in a certain sense, is spreading its tentacles; yet it will only learn to master them when it finds the thread of spiritual science and is able to apply it. Only then will it truly comprehend the structure of the human organism as it really is, precisely under the influence of the interactions that have been described. For this, however, it is necessary to be able to observe and grasp the whole human being from within through spiritual science.

[ 7 ] We now turn to the sense of smell. This may raise the question: “Why is what science calls the sense of touch—and what is usually discussed at greatest length—actually omitted?” — Given the limited number of lectures that can be given on this entire subject, some topics must be covered rather quickly, and some things may therefore sound somewhat paradoxical. The sense of touch was omitted because, as it is usually described, it is a fabrication, a figment of physiology’s imagination. It does not exist as such, for one can designate a whole range of senses as “senses of touch.” However, one cannot speak of a true sense of touch. What, then, happens when we touch something? Suppose we touch an object. What takes place there is actually entirely a matter of the sense of balance. When we press a part of the body, the balance in that part is disrupted, and nothing else happens other than what occurs within the sense of balance. The same is true when one presses down on a table, runs one’s hand over a velvet surface, or pulls on a rope. These are merely changes in equilibrium within ourselves when pressure, pulling, or stroking—and so on—occur as tactile processes. The sense of touch must always be sought where the sense of equilibrium is at work.

[ 8 ] The most erroneous views regarding the sense of touch exist in science. People speak of “pressure” without delving further into the nature of this phenomenon. For the average person, pressure is something they do not question further. For those who view the matter from a spiritual-scientific perspective, however, pressure is linked to the question: What kind of disturbance in balance arises in the organism, and what kind of compensation is consequently necessary in the astral body? — Just how this sense of pressure—which would be a part of the sense of touch—is misunderstood can be seen from the fact that people ask: Why aren’t people crushed by the immense atmospheric pressure weighing down on them? — If the situation regarding external pressure were as described, an immense pressure would be exerted on our bodies. An inquisitive boy might then ask about this in physics class, and he would be told that pressure and counterpressure—which acts from the inside out—are equal within our bodies and cancel each other out. People say that the human body is, after all, filled with air on the inside as well, and the result is an equally great outward pressure, so that the two equal but oppositely directed pressures cancel each other out. A state of equilibrium is established, and a person cannot be crushed. But if the boy in question is a bright one, he will raise an objection and say: “I have often dived deep into the water and been completely surrounded by water, yet I was not crushed, even though my body was not filled with water on the inside; otherwise, I would have drowned!”—Herein lies the absurdity to which things lead when we interpret them purely from an external, materialistic perspective. In truth, when pressure is exerted upon us, it is an eminently spiritual process. This process extends all the way into our astral body when imbalances must be corrected. When pressure is exerted upon us, the balance shifts; we push the astral body into the compressed area and thus restore the disturbed balance—indeed, we even allow it to protrude slightly beyond that point. Astral-wise, there is always, so to speak, a small bulge where pressure is applied. This balancing, purely astral effect is so strong that it is able to overcome the entire external pressure of the air from within. Here, the spirit is literally tangible; one simply does not notice it.

[ 9 ] But what happens with the sense of smell? Here, something that is already closer to our consciousness takes hold of the human organism—namely, the consciousness-soul itself. What is called the consciousness-soul in spiritual science comes into play when we smell. It causes, at a specific point in the organism, not merely an expansion or dilution, but rather that the astral body sends its effect outward from this point, and this effect thus extends beyond the organism. While, during the act of smelling, the gaseous substance penetrates the mucous membrane of the nose, the astral substance pushes outward to the same extent. Whenever we smell, this astral substance always leaves the organism, penetrates into the object, and experiences something not only within itself but within that object—which we name and experience as a pleasant aroma, a fragrance, a stench, or the like. It is like a sensory organ of the astral body, brought about by the conscious soul.

[ 10 ] The sense of taste functions in its own way because, within it, the etheric body is influenced by the intellectual or emotional soul. This soul channels astral currents outward through the organ of taste and directs them toward the substances on the tongue. What takes place in the astral body during the act of smelling is of a very special nature. What, then, flows out of the astral body when we smell? It is nothing other than a volitional force. What we feel inwardly as a volitional impulse wells up toward the incoming substance when we smell. The process of smelling is an act of resistance, a will to repel the inflowing substance. Spiritual research can say that this inflowing substance is not merely an air-like substance—that is merely Maya, illusion—but rather it is will flowing in from the outside. A interplay of volitional forces takes place during the act of smelling. The consequence of this is, as someone once intuited, that here the will from within and the will from without fight and inhibit one another. Based on this intuition, that person—Schopenhauer—founded a philosophy of the will. But this is a false metaphysics. What Schopenhauer says there about those forces of the will actually applies only to the sense of smell; everything else is simply read into it.

[ 11 ] Just as with the sense of smell, what pours out is volitional in nature; with the sense of taste, what flows out toward food is of a sensory nature, and what flows in is also of a sensory nature. Here, in the act of tasting, sensation thus interacts with sensation. Everything else about it is merely Maya, merely an outward sign. Here, an emotional effect manifests as a sense: namely, taste is perceived as pleasant, unpleasant, disagreeable, and so on. However, what one is dealing with here is not the emotion itself, but only the corresponding interactions of emotions.

[ 12 ] The next sense is the sense of sight. Here, what now works upon the etheric body and pours itself into it is the sensory soul. The process here is of a thought-like nature. A thinking principle is at work here. The sensory soul already possesses within itself what becomes conscious in the conscious soul; however, the thought is still subconscious within it. It is a form of thinking within the feeling soul that flows out through the eyes. Here, then, genuine thought substance flows out. It possesses far greater elasticity than the other two substances that flow out through the senses of smell and taste, and therefore reaches much farther. The fact is that something astral truly flows out from the human being and streams toward things. It is not as though etheric waves of light enter the eye, which then projects the received image outward! There would have to be someone sitting inside performing this act of projection. That would indeed be a ghastly, superstitious notion—this “something” that is doing the projecting. Science, which is so proud of its naturalism, in this particular case allows itself to be aided in a grotesque way by the much-maligned imagination. Thus, an astral substance—as a substance of thought—flows toward the object and penetrates until it encounters resistance somewhere in the distance and is met by another astral substance. The conflict between astral forces that plays out in this way on the outside forms the color we perceive in objects. Color arises at the boundary of objects, where the astral force emanating from the human being meets the astral force of the objects. Color arises at the boundary between the outer and inner astral realms.

[ 13 ] It is very strange when one considers, for example, that there is actually already a form of thinking present subconsciously in the sensuous soul, which only comes to light in the intellectual soul and only becomes conscious to us in the conscious soul. What in fact appears as two impressions when we look at things with both eyes is brought about by a mental process that does not initially enter consciousness. For this to enter consciousness, both mental moments must work together; they must make their way up from the soul of sensation into the soul of consciousness. We can again illustrate this path well with a parable: Here are the two hands. Each hand can feel on its own, but only when the two hands cross do we become aware of the sensation that one hand perceives the other—just as an external object is only brought into real consciousness through touch. If the impressions gained through thought activity in the sensory soul are to enter human consciousness, they must be crossed. In the case of vision, this is the result of the two optic nerves crossing in the brain. The reason for this crossing of the optic nerves is that thought work performed in the subconscious, in the sensory soul, is raised into the conscious soul through this crossing, so that one process can now be perceived by the other. In this way, the physical is built up from the spiritual, and it is only through anthroposophy that human beings can be understood down to the finest anatomical details.

[ 14 ] Next comes the sense of warmth. Here, too, there is something that conveys the sense of warmth through its effect in the human being. This is the sensory body itself, which brings its astral substance into play and allows it to flow outward when a sensation of warmth is to occur. This occurs when a person is truly able to send their astral substance outward without being hindered. In the bath, we do not feel warmed if the water is just as warm as we are—that is, when there is equilibrium between us and our surroundings and we absorb nothing from them. Only when warmth flows out from us or can flow into us do we perceive warmth or cold. If the external environment is lacking in warmth, we allow warmth to flow out into it. If we are lacking in warmth, we allow warmth to flow into us. Here again, it is clearly evident that a flow out and a flow in are taking place. When there is equilibrium between the external and internal environments, however, heat is not perceived. The experience of heat is always connected to the activity of the human sensory body. When we touch an object that becomes warmer and warmer, this sensory body will radiate heat out more and more strongly. We are increasingly pressed by what is trying to enter, and the sensory body must then radiate out correspondingly more. But this only goes so far. When it is no longer possible to allow energy to radiate out from the sensory body, we can no longer tolerate the heat and we burn ourselves. It should also be the case that we feel a burning sensation every time we can no longer radiate substance from our sensory body when touching something very cold. If we touch a very cold object that prevents us from radiating substance from the sensory body—because it gives nothing back to us—then the excessive cold also appears to us as a burning sensation and causes blisters. Both are based on the same effect.

[ 15 ] We now turn to the realm we refer to as that of the sense of hearing. The human etheric body is involved here. However, this etheric body, as humans possess it today, is incapable of truly giving anything away without causing us permanent loss, as the sensory body is still able to do. The etheric body has been formed in such a way since Atlantean times that it can no longer give anything away, for the human being would then have to forgo that in his life force. It must therefore happen in a completely different way if a hearing effect is to come about. Here, then, the human being can no longer give anything away. Of his own accord, a human being cannot develop a higher sense than the sense of warmth. If something that the human being does not possess were not to enter into him, no sense of hearing could come into being. A human being must therefore be permeated by beings who make their own substance available to him. Hence, the human organism is permeated by beings who penetrate it like a sponge. These are the beings we call Angeloi, who have already passed through the human stage in the past. They send their astral substance into us humans as a foreign astral substance, which human beings appropriate and allow to work within them and radiate outward. It flows through the ears toward what is conveyed to us through sound. As it were, on the wings of these beings, we step into that inner realm which we come to recognize as the soul of things. Here, then, we are dealing with beings who stand above human beings, who fill human beings, but who are of the same nature as human beings’ own astral substance.

[ 16 ] But there is also a higher meaning, namely the linguistic, verbal, or phonetic meaning. Where this comes into play, human beings again have nothing they can contribute of their own accord. Therefore, beings must intervene here whose substance is similar to that of which the human etheric body is composed. They, of course, also possess the corresponding astral substance; however, in this context, this substance is pushed out into the surrounding environment. They must enter the human being; they impart their etheric body, and the human being can then radiate this power back out into the environment. These are the Archangeloi, the archangels. They play a completely different role than the angels. They enable human beings not only to hear a sound but also to experience it with understanding. They ensure that human beings are not only capable of hearing a note—a G or a C-sharp—but also that, when they hear a sound, they experience something within it: namely, the inner essence of the sound; that they perceive an A, for example, in terms of its sound quality. These beings are nothing other than what are sometimes called national spirits—the spirits of the individual national identities. Whereas, in the sense of hearing, the angels express their work externally through effects on the air—by acting upon the air in the ear—the archangels counteract what happens in the air outside with other effects. Through them, effects on the bodily fluids are brought about, similar to the effect in an aqueous substance. Through what they bring about, the circulation of the bodily fluids is directed in a certain direction. The fact that, for example, a person perceives the corresponding sense of the sound “A” is also brought about by the finer bodily fluids. The outward expression of this work lies in the formation of national physiognomies—the distinctive expression of the human organism insofar as it belongs to a particular nation. It is within this that these beings are particularly active. Therefore, we can say that the humors flow differently within a human being and the entire organism functions differently, depending on whether that archangelic being imparts this or that as the meaning of a sound to the people to whom it belongs. If, for example, a people says “Aham”—“I” in Sanskrit—for “I,” whatever other theories they may have about the human “I,” these theories are irrelevant; but the two consecutive “A”s impart a primordial organization, and the members of this people must have a sense of the “I” that corresponds to these two successive “A”s. If a people combines “I” with “ch,” a completely different effect occurs. Such a people must have a different conception of the “I.” In the “I” lies a particular nuance, a particular coloring; it is what the national spirit instills in the organism with regard to the conception of the “I”:

[ 17 ] There is also a significant difference between whether something is denoted by the sequence of A and O or by I and E. The entire national sentiment must change accordingly. “Amor,” for example, conveys a different emotional nuance than when “Liebe” is said. Here one typically sees the national spirit at work. It is not insignificant that, for example, the word “Adam” is used by the Israelites to refer to the first human being, but in ancient Persia it refers to the self. These are, in fact, entirely different emotional connotations that are evoked in this way among different peoples. We have touched here upon the mystery of language—or rather, its most basic elements.

[ 18 ] This refers to the influence of spirits who, in the hierarchical order, occupy the level of the archangels and who permeate human beings with what is known as the “sense of sound,” causing its watery substance to vibrate. It is also one of the greatest experiences for a person ascending to the supersensible realm when they begin to sense the difference in the formative power of sounds. The power of sound manifests its most exquisite effect in the watery element, while the power of tone manifests it in the air.

[ 19 ] Then one can also sense the significance of why someone feels compelled to refer to a certain being by the name “Eve.” If the person in question wishes to express something else—something that relates to “Eva” as the spiritual relates to the sensual—he could use its mirror image and thus arrive at “Ave” as a sequence of syllables for the greeting to Mary. This produces a feeling in the human organism that is the opposite of the one experienced when saying “Eva.”

[ 20 ] Yet another inversion of “Eva” would be the word “Yahweh,” with the “J” at the beginning, as the name for God in the Old Testament. Anyone who delves into the sound can discern all the connections between Yahweh and Eva as they progress toward higher insights.

[ 21 ] Language did not arise by chance; it is a product of the mind. To perceive it in its spiritual essence, we have the sense of sound, which has the same legitimacy within the entire system of the senses as the other senses. And there are deeper reasons why the senses must be listed in precisely this order.

[ 22 ] Next time, we will move on to the conceptual sense and the higher senses, so that we can then explain the microcosm from a spiritual scientific perspective.