The Rudolf Steiner Archive

Anthroposophical Life-Gifts III

[ 1 ] With the ideas I developed here yesterday, I wanted specifically to point out that, within the course of human development, we need to instill in ourselves certain new ideas of spiritual culture that do not yet exist—at least not in the current cycle of time. This is a key aspect of the matter: that certain concepts—which do not currently exist, or at least are not yet in common use—must once again find their way into human spiritual life. If one traces the spiritual life of recent times in its various branches, what is characteristic is that, despite all the arrogance and conceit that sometimes surfaces in this spiritual life, it has not produced any new ideas. Even though all manner of worldviews have emerged in the ethical, artistic, philosophical, and other scientific fields, they all draw upon old, long-established ideas that are then jumbled together as if in a kaleidoscope. But we need new ideas. It is precisely such new ideas—as they must arise—that are lacking. That is why, for example, certain ancient truths cannot be understood today—truths that emerged among the ancients and have been handed down through history, ideas such as those found in Plato or Aristotle, the latter being the most recent in this regard. In earlier times, they were even more significant, but today they are either not understood at all or rejected—and rejected solely because they are not understood. Let me illustrate this with an example.

[ 2 ] When a person sees something today, they think: Out there is the object that sends light toward them; the light enters the eye, and there, in a way that is—one cannot say mysterious, but—passive, what the soul experiences as a sensation of color, for example, is produced. In Plato, we find yet another conception. There appears something that, if taken purely literally, can be understood only as if the eye were sending something toward the object that grasps the object in a mysterious way; as if the eye were extending a feeler that reaches out to the object—this is what occurs in Plato. Of course, the modern scientific view cannot make sense of this, cannot understand any of it. This is the kind of concept you’ll find described in standard textbooks or scholarly works on the history of philosophy. But you cannot make much of such books either, because such ideas are based on something that existed in ancient times: a certain atavistic clairvoyance or clairsentience that has faded away, but which must be rediscovered in a different way in our time. Since antiquity, certain ideas have simply been lost and must be reclaimed.

[ 3 ] These ideas have been lost, in particular, because what might be called Latin or Roman culture came to permeate Europe, especially Western Europe. A study of this Latin or Roman culture as it spread across Europe would shed much light on many things, if it were viewed correctly. One must be clear about the fact that, in terms of bloodline, nothing of what we call the ancient Romans remains in Italy today. So the Italians of today—while they may indeed be responsible for many things in our present—are certainly not responsible for what I am about to say. What has radiated from Roman civilization has, in a cultural sense, spread only throughout Europe; yet it was truly scorching and consuming for certain fundamental, foundational concepts—concepts that, as it were, must now be rescued from their graves. One need only recall a fact such as this: with the destruction of that city—Alesia, in today’s Côte-d’Or department in France—which was razed in the period just before the birth of Christ, a piece of ancient Celtic-Gallic culture was completely eradicated by the Romans. On the site of ancient, ruined Alesia, Napoleon III had a monument erected to Vercingetorix! Caesar was a destroyer of what existed as a center of ancient Celtic-Druidic culture. It was a vast institution of learning, as it might be called today. Tens of thousands of Europeans studied there in the manner in which science was studied at that time. All of this was eradicated, and in its place spread what came to be known as Roman civilization. This is merely a historical observation intended to show that even in Europe, older ideas existed in ancient cultural sites that have since been eradicated.

[ 4 ] Today I would like to draw your attention primarily to two concepts that must be incorporated into science and everyday life so that a better understanding of the world becomes possible. The first of these provides an idea of how our perception of the world through the senses actually comes about. This happens in the following way.

[ 5 ] When we look at a colored object, it certainly has an effect on us. But what takes place between the colored object and the human organism is a process of destruction within the human organism—as I have often emphasized—it is, in a certain sense, a death on a small scale, and the nervous system is the organ responsible for these ongoing processes of destruction. However, this destruction—which occurs continuously as a result of the external world’s influence on our own organism—is counteracted by the influence of the blood. A continuous process of exchange takes place within the human organism between the blood and the nerves. This process of exchange consists in the blood imparting a life-giving process, while the nerves impart a kind of death process, a kind of destructive force. Now, when we face an object—for example, a colored one—that acts upon us from the external world, a process of destruction takes place in our nervous system. Something is destroyed both in the physical body and in the etheric body. Because a process of destruction is set in motion along a very specific path, a kind of channel is bored out in our organism. So when we see something, a channel is bored from the eye to the cerebral cortex. What takes place is not a process of dissolution from the cerebral cortex to the eye, but rather the opposite: a hole is bored, and through this hole the astral body slips in order to be able to see the object. Plato still perceived this. It could still be perceived through atavistic clairvoyance, and we must regain this ability by truly getting to know the human organism through modern clairvoyance—by getting to know this channel that is formed, this hole that drills a tunnel from the eye to the cerebral cortex, through which the “I” unites with what acts from the outside. Humanity must learn not to form such concepts as are common in today’s epistemology or physiology, but rather to say: A channel, a tunnel, is bored from the eye to the cerebral cortex, and through this a gateway is opened through which the astral body and the “I” enter into contact with the external world. This is a concept that the present age lacks entirely. Consequently, it is also unaware of the physiological facts that follow from this. Today, students at universities study physiology, and in doing so learn precisely what I have just described as common notions; yet they do not learn how things actually are, but rather they learn the alternative—which makes no sense. That is the kind of notion.

[ 6 ] You will encounter a very different view today if, within the sphere that is rightly—and quite naturally—referred to as modern scholarship, you come across the following concept. It is described there—and it cannot be otherwise today—as follows: Human beings are born as undeveloped beings; then their soul and spirit gradually develop as the body’s increasingly complex and refined organization gradually brings the soul and spirit to the fore. You can find this among psychologists—and indeed among all contemporary scholars—as well as in popular books, where it has found its way into virtually every popular work. This is also how it appears to people. But what appears to be so is Maya. In many respects, what one initially arrives at is the opposite of the truth. And so that concept is the opposite of what is true. — Instead, one should say—I need only recall what is described in *The Education of the Child*, where the very same point I now wish to expound is expressed only slightly differently—: While the child is very young, the soul and spirit are still purely soulful and spiritual, and as the child grows up, the soul and spirit gradually transform into the material, into the physical. The soul and spirit gradually become physical; the human being gradually becomes a complete image of the soul and spirit. It is very important to grasp this concept. For once one has it, one will no longer merely speak of what walks around on two legs on the earth as “human”; rather, one will become aware that it is the image of the human being, that the human being, when born in a supersensible way, gradually grows together with the body and creates its complete image within the body. Spirit and soul disappear into the body, becoming less and less apparent in their distinct nature. Thus, one must adopt precisely the opposite conception from the one commonly held. One must understand why, for example, one has actually reached the age of twenty: because the spirit has sunk into the body, because the spirit has transformed itself into the body, because what is the body is an external image of the spirit. Then one will also grasp that, as one grows old, the reverse transformation gradually takes place. The body becomes calcified and salt-laden; the spirit, however, becomes more and more spiritual and soulful. Only then does the human being lack the ability to hold onto it, because here they are confronted with the physical world and wish to express themselves through the body. What becomes increasingly independent there only fully manifests itself after death. So it is not that the spiritual-soul aspect becomes dulled with age; on the contrary, it becomes freer and freer. Of course, when confronted with these ideas, the materialist will very often object that, for example, even Kant—who was a very intelligent man—became weak in old age; therefore, the spiritual-soul aspect could not have freed itself after all. — But the materialist raises this objection only because he cannot take into account the spiritual-soul aspect, which had already gradually grown into the spiritual world. It will be a tough nut to crack for very many people to now have to say: As people grow older, they do not become weak or even feeble-minded, but rather they become more spiritual and soulful. It’s just that by then the body is worn out, and one cannot express the spiritual and soul aspects that one has developed through the body. Ultimately, this is just like a pianist who could become an ever-better player; but if the piano is worn out, one cannot tell. If you want to assess his abilities as a pianist solely based on his playing, but the piano is out of tune and has broken strings, you will not be able to glean much from his performance. Thus, Kant—even when he was an old man and mentally impaired—had not become mentally impaired in the spiritual world, but rather glorious.

[ 7 ] So one must, in fact, turn certain ideas on their head in order to arrive at reality. One must take quite seriously the idea that in this world we are dealing with Maya, with the great illusion, for some concepts must be turned on their head. If one takes seriously the fact that one is confronted with the great illusion in the outer physical reality, then one will also be able to take seriously the fact that the outer physical human being, even if he is seventy years old and appears frail, already has his spirit somewhere other than on the physical plane. The obstacles to understanding spiritual science often lie in the fact that one is unable to form correct concepts about what is taking place on the ordinary physical plane. One forms mistaken ideas about what is happening on the physical plane, and the result is that these mistaken ideas separate one from the true world—they prevent one from reaching the true world. If one forms concepts such as the second one I have cited, then one will no longer be very far from the knowledge that spiritual science, based on its research, must now assert regarding human beings immediately after death.

[ 8 ] As a human being enters physical life through birth, he gradually and increasingly develops a relationship with his physical body. We have now gained a proper understanding of this relationship. Because there is simply too much to discuss, it is not always mentioned that something similar also takes place between death and a new birth. One can describe the situation in a similar way for the time between death and a new birth. One can say: The human being gradually enters into a relationship with something similar to what exists here with regard to the physical body. Our physical existence is not merely a physical existence; rather, as we know, it encompasses the physical body, the etheric body (or body of formative forces), and the astral body (or the outer soul, the soul body). Just as we must appropriate these three shells or sheaths for physical life, so too must we don such sheaths for the time between death and the next birth—namely, three sheaths, which I will name so that they are not confused with anything else: the soul-human, the soul-life or life-soul, and the soul-self. Just as we acquire the physical body here for the physical world, so do we acquire the soul-human between death and a new birth; just as we acquire the etheric body or body of formative forces here, so do we then acquire the soul life or life soul; and just as we acquire the astral body—the soul body—for the world here, so do we acquire the individual soul or soul self after death. I choose these terms so that they are not confused with what the human being will acquire in a different way for the Jupiter, Venus, and Vulcan epochs—which is similar; but because it lies on a different level of existence, it must nevertheless be distinguished. But the terms themselves are not what matters here. It is only necessary that we study a little how these mentioned sheaths are acquired.

[ 9 ] When a person enters that phase of life that takes place between death and a new birth, the first thing that characterizes this state is that they find themselves surrounded by a multitude of images. These images all stem from experiences between the last birth and the last death, or even from earlier times. But let us first focus on what was present in the last earthly life. Thus, the images that arise first are those originating from the last life; these can be found in the person’s surroundings. The essential point is that these are present in the surroundings of the deceased. What is remarkable is that the deceased initially has some difficulty developing the awareness that these images are his own. Of this entire world of images surrounding him, what is described in the book *Theosophy* as the experiences in the soul world—that journey back through images—is only a part. There are other images besides these, and the life of the deceased consists in gradually recognizing these images as belonging to him. This is the work of consciousness: to fully recognize these images as rightfully belonging to him.

[ 10 ] One can only fully understand what this is all about when one realizes that the life one leads here between birth and death is far richer than one’s conscious life. Just imagine for a moment: You live under certain circumstances, in a community, with these or those people. Of what goes on between you, what takes place consciously is actually only a part. Things are constantly happening. You must bear in mind that life here unfolds in such a way that we pay attention to only a small part of what we experience. Take an ordinary event: You have gathered here this evening; each of you has entered into some kind of relationship with everyone else present. But if you really think about how much of this you have brought to your conscious awareness, it is very little. For the moment you are three meters away from another person and then approach them, this act of drawing closer from three meters involves a whole series of facial impressions; you see their face differently as you get closer, and so on. It is impossible to conceive, with ordinary physical understanding, what one actually experiences throughout one’s physical life. Only a very small fraction of this is what one consciously experiences. By far the most significant part remains subconscious.

[ 11 ] For example, when you read a letter, you are generally aware of its content. But much more is going on in your subconscious; not only are you, without bringing it to your conscious attention, always feeling a slight annoyance or delight at the beautiful or ugly handwriting, but something from the writer actually passes into you through the handwriting—through every stroke of it—something you do not notice with your conscious mind, yet which lives on like a dream that runs continuously through your entire life. That is why it is so difficult for us to truly understand dreams—because they contain much of what is not taken into account at all in our waking consciousness. Suppose, for example, that one lady is sitting here and another is sitting there. If one is not specifically made aware that a woman is sitting there and does not look at her more closely, it may happen that one woman does not notice the other at all—does not even realize in any way what gestures the other is making or what else she is doing. But it remains imprinted in the subconscious, and it is precisely these things—which we have paid much less attention to in our waking consciousness—that can find their way into our dreams. This happens precisely when, in waking consciousness, one directs one’s individuality toward a particular matter—for example, when you are walking thoughtfully down the street and a friend passes you by. You may not even notice him, but you dream about him even though you have no idea that he walked past you. So much, so very much happens in life, and terribly little enters our waking consciousness. But everything that happens in a person’s life—especially what pertains to the soul, what remains in the subconscious—all of that becomes an image surrounding the person. By coming here today and leaving again, the image of the entire room remains connected to you—though to a greater extent insofar as all of this has made a more spiritual impression, and spiritually speaking, there are no fixed boundaries.

[ 12 ] Thus, countless images are intertwined with human life. All of this is rolled up—I can find no other way to put it—into human life. You carry millions of images rolled up with you through your life. And what happens immediately after death is the “unfolding” of these images—one might call it that—the unfolding of postmortem imaginations. An imaginative world gradually forms around the person; and their consciousness consists in recognizing themselves within this imaginative world.

[ 13 ] This is described from somewhat different perspectives in the Vienna Lectures on Life Between Death and Rebirth; but one must consider these matters from a wide variety of perspectives. — The Unfolding of Images: One can draw a comparison here to how we are when we are small children, just born and still possessing a body that is somewhat unformed. Some people—who are not necessarily the mothers of the children in question—say: Every small child looks like a frog; it is not yet fully human, but it gradually takes shape. Just as the child takes shape as it grows—and we can say that we carry this child within us while we live in the material world—so too does a growth of life take place that can be called the unfolding of the images of life. For in this unfolding of the images, the soul-human, that one aspect of the human being, takes shape. You must certainly imagine that what exists after death is spread out, and that in the imaginations the soul-human first grows, the image-human, the imaginative spirit-physicality that builds itself up there.

[ 14 ] And this is where one can once again be of immense help to the deceased from the physical earth by going through with them such images—which are also images of spiritual science—or those we developed yesterday of the blue-reddish earth with the golden Jerusalem. These are the images the deceased longs for, for he longs for imaginative visions that bring order and structure. This is how we help him. In particular, we help him by going through with him what we experienced together; for this is where the images can take hold if they are to unfold. If you imagine things that were actually overlooked in life and go through them with the deceased, then they benefit greatly from this. For example, I mean if you recall how, while he was still alive, he walked through the door when he came home from his shop, how you greeted him—in other words, how the soul expresses itself in pictorial terms. There can, of course, be an infinite amount of love in these things, though it can also be otherwise. Then you will also meet with the deceased in your thoughts. — I have shown in various ways how one can blend one’s own ideas into this world of images into which the deceased must develop, and in which their consciousness must expand. Ideas that the deceased strove for, which they could not fully achieve, and which explain something to them—these become their world of images. In this way, one helps shape their soul-being.

[ 15 ] Of course, in the period following death, the other members are already formed within the deceased: the soul life, or the life soul, and also the soul self. But it is precisely these components that take shape more and more distinctly in such a way that the deceased, immediately after death, perceives them as something future—something he will only gradually develop. In this regard, the deceased has the sense that he must work out the soul-being; he must labor at it; but he must allow the life-soul to develop—it must develop gradually. It is, of course, already there, just as the intellect is present in a child, but it must develop, just as the child’s intellect does. As a result, an inspiring force arises in the deceased immediately after death. But this force develops, becoming stronger and stronger. And it is precisely by helping the deceased that one also aids them in the development of this inspiring force. For something must gradually speak to the deceased through these images. They must become more than mere memories of life; they must tell them something new—something that life itself could not yet convey. For what they now tell them must become the seed for what they will shape in their next earthly life.

[ 16 ] Thus, the life of the soul—the life-soul—begins to develop, and the images become ever more eloquent. It is the case that the deceased initially—if I may put it this way—directs their gaze primarily toward the earth. Just as we direct our thoughts upward toward the spiritual world, so the deceased directs his soul ever downward toward the Earth. He sees it, for example—as I described yesterday—as the Earth that is blue on the eastern half and reddish on the western half; these images arise, and they are interwoven. At first, he always sees his life within this general image of the Earth; he sees his life here with us. That is why we can also help them come to terms with these images. Although they leave the Earth, they do not leave it with their soul’s eye. And gradually, the Earth becomes resonant as inspiration develops more and more. What these images are gradually reveals itself to them more and more.

[ 17 ] People often ask whether this help for the dead can only be provided shortly after death, or whether it is still possible years or even decades later. But it never stops. No one can live on Earth long enough for it to become unnecessary to help those who have passed away before us. Even if someone has been dead for thirty or forty years, the connection—if it was karmic—always remains. Of course, one must be aware that if the soul—the soul of the person who is here—is undeveloped, it may initially have a clearer awareness of this connection. At first, this awareness of the connection with the deceased can be felt and sensed very strongly, because the images are still passive and essentially contain what they also contained while on Earth. But then they begin to resonate; the music of the spheres resounds from within them. This is quite strange. And one can only gain insight into this through spiritual science, by knowing what takes place in future epochs of the Earth. But it is not all that common for such a vivid need to draw near to the deceased to persist for decades, as it does immediately after their passing. For the living—and this is simply a fact of experience—the inclination toward the dead gradually fades, and the living feeling for them dies away. That is why this is also one of the reasons why, as time goes on, the connection with the dead is felt less vividly.

[ 18 ] This draws our attention to the fact that the first phase of life, between death and rebirth, is primarily devoted to the development of the soul-human—that which hovers around the human being as an imaginative world. The later period—though it is, of course, present from the very beginning—is devoted to the soul’s inspiring power, the life-soul. And before them, as it were, as an ideal, the deceased has what might be called the soul-self. It, too, is present from the very beginning, for the soul-self gives the individual their sense of self. Just as reason must first be developed in a child, even though it is present from the very beginning, so, too, does the human being first develop the soul-self between death and rebirth. And this development of the soul-self to the highest degree is then already dedicated to the period in which the soul slowly returns to earthly life. When a human being, in the time between death and a new birth, becomes—one might say—spiritually blooming with youth, then their soul-self is at its highest stage of development. Here on Earth we say: “One grows old”; in the spiritual world between death and a new birth, one must say: “One becomes young.”—Here we say: “One’s hair turns gray with age”; there one must say: “One becomes blooming with youth.” — These things were quite well known not so long ago. I need only recall Goethe’s *Faust*, where it says: “become young in the age of mist”; this means: born in the northern world. In the past, people did not say: “Someone was born”—but rather: “He has become young,” thereby alluding to his life before birth. And Goethe still used this expression: “become young in the age of mist.”

[ 19 ] The final period between death and rebirth is thus the one in which the soul primarily develops its intuitive aspect. In the initial period after death, the imaginative aspect of the soul—that is, the soul-man—is alive within it. Then, little by little, the inspired aspect of the soul—the life-soul—develops to its full height. And after that, what gives the soul its full individuality develops: the soul-self, the intuitive aspect—the ability to merge with other things, to find its way into them. Into what does the soul find its way? What does it intuit most readily?

[ 20 ] Even between death and rebirth, at a certain point in life, the soul begins to feel a kinship with the succession of generations that will eventually lead to its father and mother. The soul gradually feels a connection to its ancestors—how they are brought together in marriages, how they have children, and so on. Immediately after death, one perceives the images—the unfolding of these images—and as one looks down upon the Earth, these images are synthesized into broader imaginative contexts. And as one turns back toward earthly life, one becomes more and more intuitive. And on a grander scale, the image I described yesterday appears before the soul: the globe of the Earth—glowing bluish over Asia, India, and East Africa; on the other side—since one is circling the Earth—where America is, glistening reddish; in between, the green and other hues. And the Earth also resounds in the most varied tones: melodies, harmonies, choirs of celestial music. And into this, what one had as images gradually moves: the images one first had, what one had of the succession of generations. One gradually learns to recognize the thirty-sixth and thirty-fifth pairs of ancestors, then the thirty-fourth, then the thirty-third and thirty-second pairs, all the way down to one’s father and mother. One learns to recognize these, interwoven into the imaginations. And intuition becomes imprinted within this, until one reaches one’s father and mother. This imprinting is truly a merging into what lives on through the generations. The second half of life, between death and new birth, is such that during this time a person intensively accustoms themselves to living in the other—in what lies below—to already living ahead in this other, in what will then become the next and more distant environment; to living not within oneself, but in the other. One begins the life between death and new birth by living in the other; one ends this life in such a way that one can live primarily in the other. Then one is born, and at first one still retains something of this other life. For this reason, one must say: In the first seven years, a human being is an imitator; he imitates everything he perceives. Read what is described about this in the book *The Education of the Child from the Perspective of Spiritual Science*. It is a final echo of this “living in the other,” which continues into physical life. This is the most outstanding quality, translated into the spiritual realm, between death and new birth, and it is the first quality that appears in the child: imitating everything that is there. One cannot understand this imitation on the part of the child unless one knows that it stems from the magnificent intuitive life of the spiritual-soul realm during the final period between death and new birth.

[ 21 ] Here, once again, is a concept that must take hold of the spiritual development of the future. In ancient times—primarily because people knew the spirit through atavistic clairvoyance—there was a lively belief, born of direct perception, in what has today become doubtful to people when they think materialistically: immortality. They knew this in the past. But in the future, the idea of immortality will be inspired from the opposite direction. People will come to understand that this life here is the continuation of a spiritual life. Just as people naturally viewed life primarily as a continuation after death in the past, so in the future they will increasingly learn to regard all life here as a continuation of the life between death and rebirth. The churches, however, have erected barriers against this. For nothing was considered heresy by the church as much as the idea of the pre-existence of the soul, and, as is well known, the early Church Father Origen is held in such low esteem primarily because he still recognized the pre-existence of the soul. It is not merely a matter of the fact that, as I have already said, at the church council in the 9th century abolished the concept of the spirit by establishing the dogma that human beings do not consist of body, soul, and spirit, but only of body and soul, while conceding that the soul possesses something spirit-like within itself. It is forbidden to think, the council declared, that human beings consist of body, soul, and spirit; they possess a soul-like and a spirit-like aspect, but they consist only of body and soul. — Of course, this is still the rule today. But there is something else connected with it; it is at the same time “unbiased science”! And that is the more interesting part. You will find philosophers everywhere dividing human beings into body and soul; the threefold division into body, soul, and spirit is still very rarely applied. Just look up the famous Wundt; and you will see that dividing human beings into body and soul is “unbiased science.” It is not unbiased science! — It is the last remnant of that dogma from the Eighth Ecumenical Council. Only the philosophers have forgotten this and regard it as unbiased science. — That is one barrier: the abolition of the spirit. The other barrier that the Church has erected is the prohibition of the belief in pre-existence. Even unbiased people cannot come to terms with the belief in pre-existence. I need only recall the famous philosophical theologian—or theological philosopher, as one might say—Frobschammer in Munich. His books are on the Index. But that did not prevent him from nevertheless opposing the idea of the pre-existence of the soul, because he says: If the soul truly existed beforehand, if it were not created at the same time, then the parents would merely be producing a little creature that would then acquire a soul. — That is a terrifying notion to him. I have cited this as a footnote in my *Seelenrätsel* (*Mysteries of the Soul*). But that is not the case. When one knows that the fact is that a human being is connected through more than thirty generations by the blood flowing through the generations, then one cannot say that the parents are merely producing a little animal; rather, the entire mental process spanning more than thirty generations is part of it. One simply has to become aware of this.

[ 22 ] So this is it: in the future, people will not merely focus their attention on the question, “Does this life continue beyond death?” Rather, especially when they study physical earthly life correctly, they will be able to say to themselves, “This physical earthly life is the continuation of a spiritual life!” — In the future, great attention will be focused on this. People will recognize that spiritual life continues in the mortal, and the mortal in the immortal; and by recognizing the mortal in the immortal, they will thereby have a secure foundation for the knowledge of the immortal. If only this earthly life were properly understood, then people would no longer seek to understand it solely from within themselves. This naturally involves acquiring such other concepts as I have now explained.

[ 23 ] Oh, it is necessary to correct certain concepts. In general, it is very difficult to acquire certain concepts that are valid in real life, and popular language is a major obstacle in this regard. Of course, one must rely on everyday language at first, because otherwise one will not be understood at all. But it is indeed a major obstacle to think that one inherits this similarity directly from one’s parents. That is nonsense. I have also said in a public lecture that our scientific community suffers greatly from the fact that what is common practice in the science of the inorganic is not applied to the organic as well. No one would try to derive the magnetic force of a magnet from the horseshoe-shaped piece of iron; rather, one would explain the magnetism in the magnet or in the magnetic needle in terms of the cosmos. But when the egg develops in the hen or the embryo in the human being, this is not to be explained by the cosmos. Yet the cosmos is at work everywhere. And as strange as it may seem: just as a channel is bored into the eye during a sensory impression to open the gateway for the “I” to emerge, so too does reproduction depend on space actually being made available. What happens in this process is that the mother’s organism is prepared in such a way that space is created. And what then comes into being arises from the cosmos, from the entire macrocosm. It is a complex process, but within the mother’s organism, only the space is prepared; the mother’s organism is temporarily suspended to such an extent that a cavity is formed into which the macrocosmic can enter. That is the essence of it, and even embryology will come to understand this in due course. It will realize that the most important aspect of the embryo is precisely where there is nothing—where the mother’s matter is pushed aside because the macrocosmic force seeks to enter. But with regard to this macrocosmic force, which has been preparing for so long—so that the human being, in the longest case over the course of thirty-two to thirty-five generations, is already intuitively present among their ancestors—the human being is already connected to the forces acting in from the cosmos; they can already perceive them. From his stellar region, to which he is assigned, he watches the ray fall upon the Earth and sees where he will then be incarnated. Then he gradually approaches the Earth.

[ 24 ] These are things that, I believe, can also fill our minds with a profound emotional impression. One cannot approach spiritual science in the same way as, say, mathematics; rather, one must approach it as something that connects deeply with our soul, something that truly transforms us into different people, something that profoundly enriches human life and lays the foundation for a genuine consciousness of the world. This invigorating, this refreshing effect—in the best sense of the word—of spiritual scientific knowledge is something essential and important. We must not, however, fail to recognize that in the present epoch, with regard to the things meant here, we find ourselves, so to speak, in a transitional period. Our time must bear this as its karma. Today, people are still quick to say: “For heaven’s sake, am I supposed to take on such complicated ideas just to grasp what your teaching on the human destiny offers me? Others make it easier for you!” — Certainly, Dr. Johannes Müller, for example, makes it easier for people. But the point is that we are living in a transitional period, and that these concepts are still unfamiliar to people today. But they will have to become familiar with them. The time will come when these things will be introduced to children in an appropriate manner. It will be possible to do so, and in doing so, a discovery will be made—namely, that children will understand them surprisingly well. They will understand what comes from the images of spiritual science much better than others. For through their capacity for imitation, they bring with them from the spiritual world many things that we first drive out of them—things we do not take into account, but sometimes reject in a quite brutal manner. Otherwise, we would admit that some children say things that are extraordinarily wise—often much wiser than what adults say. Sometimes what a child says is much more interesting—because it is more closely connected to the essence of the world—than what a professor says. One should indeed be able to take these things in with a certain sense of ethos; then it will no longer be difficult to present them to the child’s mind in the appropriate way. The transition to this is, of course, uncomfortable, which is why people are so quick to reject it. But it is precisely from certain questions arising from a child’s mind—if one pays attention to the direction and tone of such questions—that one will recognize that the child possesses reminiscences from a previous life.

[ 25 ] One must simply take what is meant by the humanities thoroughly seriously and hold the view that they must find their way into social life, which also includes education and instruction. In this regard, much more could be done today than is generally thought possible. For it is indeed quite true, as I remarked the other day: When those who wish to become teachers or educators are examined today, the focus is primarily on the knowledge they have acquired—knowledge that was, in fact, entirely unnecessary for them to acquire. For whatever they need to teach, they can always look up in an appropriate compendium as they prepare. What one has learned for an exam is, after all, soon forgotten again. This is most evident when one recalls how life at our university unfolds. — I once had to take an exam. On the scheduled date, the professor in question fell ill. I went to see the teaching assistant, and he told me: “Yes, the professor is sick, and it will probably take another eight days; I can sympathize with you if you have to go around in this highly stressed state and have forgotten everything in eight days; but there’s simply no other way!” — So one sort of expects that what one is supposed to regurgitate in the exam will be forgotten quite soon. It’s really just a comedy of life. But what will matter in the end is that we look at what kind of person we’re letting loose on the youth. It’s a matter of looking at the human being in each person, not just at what they’ve squeezed into the machinery of their intellectual life. What matters is the real person—that they are capable of establishing that mysterious relationship with young people that is necessary. Then it won’t be all that difficult to actually bring to young people what spiritual science can develop for them.

[ 26 ] Today I wanted to draw your attention primarily to those aspects of human life as a whole that can help you realize that we should not merely cling to old concepts, but that we need new ones—that our capacity for conceptual understanding must be enriched in many ways. You will notice how much of a relief it actually is when something like spiritual science is made widely available. People have long been yearning for this. Most people want to spare themselves the effort of having to take in many new concepts at all. That is why they are so fond of attending slide shows or other illustrated lectures, where they can simply look and do not need to take in many new concepts. As a rule, when people are presented with something new, they ask: “What does he actually want?” — But what do people want when they ask, “What does he actually want?” They want the matter to be translated into terms they already understand. But that is not what the field of spiritual science is about; there, one is supposed to take in new concepts that do not yet exist—concepts that, in part, once existed in ancient times in a different form, but are not present today. There, one must resolve to delve into new concepts. This is often so difficult for people. For if they were truly to accept new concepts, they would not ask, “What does he actually want?” but would simply take them in. In the future, a much more useful question will be: “What am I actually meant to think?” rather than “What does he actually want?”—Then one would already see how the opinion one develops also unleashes life forces within oneself, so that one enters into reality. One would see that seeing is indeed something subtle, but not at all so distant. To achieve this, however, prejudices will have to be overcome.

[ 27 ] For example, there is a popular little book titled *Introduction to Philosophy*. It contains concepts such as those I criticized yesterday and today. But the author becomes particularly peculiar when he discusses supernaturalism. He considers supernaturalism—the supernatural—to be especially harmful because he believes that the natural realm is something about which every person can form their own judgment and verify for themselves; whereas with the supernatural—with supernaturalism—there is a danger that not everyone can judge for themselves, but instead accepts a matter on the authority of others. This is, of course, linked to the other claim: that the clergy of all ages have exploited this, since supernaturalism has corrupted people by making them dependent on belief in authority. But if one considers the actual circumstances, one can say: When official philosophers today bring up the supernatural, they become downright childish. For it is a childish view, and it seems as if the man has no idea at all how rampantly belief in authority is spreading, especially in our present time, even when people want to distance themselves from it. How many people, for example, know what the Copernican theory is based on? They learn about it in such a way that one essentially imagines a spirit sitting in a chair placed out into the cosmos, and is shown: “There, the sun is moving, and the planets are moving around it.” — But that’s all nonsense. If people were shown everything that can truly be revealed to them, they would gain a completely different perspective and see how uncertain all these hypotheses are. But just think how infinitely vast is what people believe today on the basis of authority. How delighted they are today in another area—to mention this as a side note—when a Bolshevik government reveals secret files to them on which the fate of countless people depends! In that case, there is such an examination of the matter with regard to the natural realm—anyone can examine it—but when it comes to the supersensible realm, it is believed that people would lose their independence. But that is tantamount to turning things upside down. And one task of spiritual science will, in many respects, consist in setting things right again. That things have been turned upside down is entirely natural: the conscious soul had to develop. But now they must also be set right again.

[ 28 ] We’ll pick up where we left off next time, and we’ll see that this image of “getting back on one’s feet” isn’t so far-fetched after all—it even has a deeper meaning.