The Rudolf Steiner Archive

First Lecture

[ 1 ] You will rightly assume that I have returned here to be with you once again with great satisfaction, to discuss anthroposophical matters with you and in your presence. Of course, this can happen only rarely, but it is also possible that certain things will be expressed in a way that sets a direction precisely on such occasions, thereby providing an impetus for further reflection on what has been said. And that is always the foundation for being together, even when we cannot realize this togetherness physically.

[ 2 ] We have also gathered here today to take this opportunity to establish the Dutch Anthroposophical Society. Given the current circumstances, the formation of these individual national anthroposophical societies is indeed necessary if we are to create as individual, sound, and solid a foundation as possible for what we need at the present time. The International Anthroposophical Society, which is to be founded in Dornach at Christmas, will only be able to be established if the individual national societies are represented in such a way that their representatives can truly—I would say—express the inner essence of the individual anthroposophical identities. In this way, however, we will also be able to accomplish something—something that is now very necessary, something very important and significant—when the General Anthroposophical Society is founded. If you can share my sense of how important these matters are for the present, then we will all be able to cultivate the right spirit for these days. And in this spirit, I would like to thank you most sincerely for your words and extend my warmest greetings to all of you for these days.

[ 3 ] The topic planned for these internal lectures is, of course, “The Supersensible Human Being, as It Can Be Understood from an Anthroposophical Perspective,” and we will attempt to explore this supersensible perception and understanding of the human being from a wide variety of angles here. Since we can only have a small number of lectures, I would like to, so to speak, step right into the heart of the matter today.

[ 4 ] When we speak of the “supersensible” human being, we immediately set ourselves in opposition to the way people speak of human beings today. In fact, even among those with an idealistic outlook, it has long been the case that one does not speak of the “supersensible” human being. In the common education and understanding of the present day, one does not speak of the human being who passes through births and deaths. For over the course of centuries, it has become something taken for granted—something instilled in children as early as school—that the modern worldview has shown how the Earth is something like a speck of dust in the vastness of the universe. On this speck of dust, moving at breakneck speed through the universe—as, of course, an even smaller speck of dust—is the human being, who is insignificant in the cosmic sense. But because this view of the earthly speck of dust has, so to speak, taken root in every mind—and thus also in every heart—we have today completely lost the ability to relate human beings to that which lies beyond the earthly realm. And with truly unmistakable clarity—even if people do not realize this, even if it remains in their unconscious—something speaks to the human soul today that virtually urges people to turn their gaze once more toward the supersensible aspect of their being—and thus toward the essence of the world. For over the course of the last few centuries, we have also come to embrace materialism in our understanding of humanity. What, then, is this materialism?

[ 5 ] Materialism is the worldview that regards human beings insofar as they have emerged from the substances and forces of this earth. And even if some insist that human beings do not consist solely of the substances and forces of this earth, we still have no science that deals with those aspects of human beings that do not originate from the substances and forces of this earth. That is why the claim made today by many—who mean well from their own standpoint—that the eternal aspect of the human being can somehow still be understood is not entirely honest. This materialism is not merely there to be refuted. Today, it is already quite amateurish to want to do nothing but refute materialism. The theoretical views that invoke materialism—which either cast doubt on or entirely deny a spiritual world, or at least cast doubt on or deny knowledge of it—these perspectives are not, after all, what must be considered first and foremost. Rather, what must be considered first and foremost is the immensely impressive and significant nature of materialism. After all, what good does it do if people, out of some state of mind or religious tradition, say that human thought, human feeling, and human will must surely be something independent outside the brain, and then modern science comes along and—either by one means or another, most often by conducting brain research on pathological conditions — piece by piece from the brain, and in doing so seemingly also strips away the human soul piece by piece? What good does it do if, out of some emotional state or religious tradition, we speak of the immortality of the soul—and yet, when this soul is afflicted, for example, we can think of nothing else but first and foremost the healing of the brain or the nervous system as a whole? But materialism has brought us all of this. And many who today seek to refute materialism do not really know what they are doing; for they do not realize the immense significance of the detailed knowledge that materialism has brought. Nor do they realize the far-reaching consequences that materialism has had for the entirety of our understanding of humanity.

[ 6 ] Let us take this as our starting point. Let us look at human beings as modern science understands them, and let us approach this with complete honesty. Then something will be revealed to us. From everything that physiology, biology, chemistry, and so on can bring to bear in explaining the human being, we will come to recognize how the various substances and forces of the world and the Earth combine to build muscles, the nervous system, the circulatory system, the individual senses, and so on—in short, the whole human being of whom modern science speaks. There is a peculiar fact at work here. We will first approach this science in the way it is most successfully practiced today—and rightly so. We will take, for example, that knowledge of human nature that underlies what a medical student must learn at the university as the foundation of his healing practice. We will take what he first learns in the preparatory sciences and then in the sciences fundamental to medicine regarding the human being. Let us imagine all of this summarized, as it were, in a handbook of what the physician must learn about human beings. And there, everything is summarized—even if it is a compendium—that one must know about human beings, summarized up to the point where the physician then moves on to his specialized knowledge. And we ask ourselves: What is this? What does one learn about human beings from this?

[ 7 ] One comes to understand an extraordinary amount; one comes to understand everything that can be understood today. For if we move from this corner to another and look to the psychologists, to those who study the soul, then the whole story actually becomes quite dubious, quite questionable. There one immediately realizes that the natural sciences—which, for example, form the basis of serious academic study—contain sound research results. They are so sound that, for the most part, those who present them are not at all a match for that soundness. Students are usually terribly bored by the material presented to them as preparation for their studies. But this is not the fault of the natural sciences; it is solely the fault of those who teach them. One should therefore never speak of “boring natural science,” but only of “boring professors.” It really isn’t the fault of natural science; it actually offers something of substance. I would like to say: No matter how far removed from their senses the people who often present natural science today may be—natural science itself works with sound minds!

[ 8 ] But if we then turn from what is presented there as the results of exceptionally sound research—for example, to psychologists and philosophers— and see how they speak of the soul or even of the eternal in human beings, then we will soon realize that when we go beyond what has traditionally been handed down from earlier times—these are words, nothing but words, with which human beings can actually do nothing. When people today approach philosophy or psychology with their deepest spiritual needs, they will not only find it boring, but they will find absolutely nothing at all about what they are seeking.

[ 9 ] Therefore, one can say: Today, true knowledge is really only offered to those who seek it through the natural sciences. But what do the natural sciences teach us about human beings? They teach us what arises in a human being at birth or conception and ceases with death. Nothing else! If one is to be honest, that is all it has to offer. Therefore, for anyone who wishes to be honest in this field, there is no other option but to turn their gaze toward what cannot be attained today by conventional scientific means—that is, to establish a true science of the soul and spirit, one that, like the ancient spiritual knowledge, is based on experience and observation of the spiritual realm. And this can only be achieved through the methods you will find described in my books How Does One Attain Knowledge of the Higher Worlds?, Occult Science, and others, whereby a person enables themselves to truly perceive the spiritual and to speak of it in the same way they speak of what exists in the sensory-material realm—a process that has led to a sound natural science. Everything on Earth that is accessible to the senses, everything that can be subjected to experimentation—this, of course, is not yet complete, but it is well on its way. Yet all of this provides insights only into the transitory, the sensory, the temporal human being. Therefore, we cannot look beyond the earthly realm if we wish to understand the human being through these means. For if we look only at the earthly, we look only at what is transitory in the human being.

[ 10 ] But this, as we shall yet see, is something that cannot be understood in and of itself. It calls on us to look beyond the Earth and into the Earth’s surroundings. But when modern science looks into the Earth’s surroundings, at most it calculates the distances to the stars, describes their paths, directs the spectroscope toward them, and states to what extent the light phenomena that become apparent there suggest that the stars contain the same substances as those found on Earth. This science of the supernatural, of the extraterrestrial, does not itself extend beyond the Earth; it is incapable of doing so. And so today I would like to present to you, as a starting point, a few ideas that will prove true more and more in the course of the individual presentations.

[ 11 ] If, instead of focusing our gaze on the Earth as current science does, we turn our gaze outward to what presents itself to the senses beyond the earthly realm—if we turn our gaze out into the world of the stars—we first encounter the planetary system, those celestial bodies that, in a certain sense, are shown to be connected to the Earth; which perform movements that are now believed to be similar to the Earth’s movement—orbiting the Sun—and movements that are carried out in outer space together with the Sun in a certain direction, and so on. Yes, that is what can be observed and calculated today. But it offers nothing that can in any way be conveyed to human beings. One might say: There is nothing in this observation that benefits human beings.

[ 12 ] Supersensible perception immediately leads us to something else. There we turn our gaze outward to see how the planets closest to Earth are situated beyond it: Saturn, Jupiter, Mars, then Earth itself, Mercury, Venus, and the Moon. We do not merely count the Moon among the minor planets, but rather among those that can be equated with Earth in a planetary sense. With regard to the planets, modern science calculates that, for example, Saturn—which has a long way to travel—takes a very long time, thirty years, to orbit the Sun; that Jupiter takes much less time, and Mars even less. So let us look out at the starry sky; we see a star, a planet, in a certain place, at a certain point; somewhere else we see another planet—Saturn, Jupiter, and so on. Everything that first presents itself to the physical eye—Jupiter there, Saturn there—all of it also has an etheric sphere; all of it is embedded in a subtle substance, in the ether. If one can perceive the ether as well, one sees, for example, how Saturn—this strangely shaped planet, with its sphere visible from the outside and its rings all around—how this Saturn performs a certain action within the ether around itself. This Saturn is not inactive in relation to the ether, which envelops and contains the entire planetary sphere; when viewed spiritually, this Saturn radiates forces; it radiates something that can be perceived as a form. What appears physically on Saturn is, after all, only a part—indeed, something that gradually disappears from spiritual vision. Through spiritual contemplation, one has the feeling that the spirits of the world wish to place Saturn in its proper place so that we may have a guide for where to direct our gaze. But when we look with the spiritual eye, it is as if someone were to draw something on a blackboard merely to provide a point of reference, then sketch something around it, and finally erase those reference points again. This happens of its own accord in spiritual vision: Saturn is erased, but what surrounds it becomes clearer and clearer. This speaks a wondrous language. And once one has reached the point where Saturn is erased and one observes what is working its way into the ether, this expands all the way to Jupiter. Jupiter, in turn, does the same. It, too, fades away; what works its way into the ether expands—even very far—and a new formation arises in the ether, which, together with Saturn’s formation, creates a picture. And then one comes to Mars, where the same thing happens again. Then one comes to the Sun. There, however, while the outer, physical Sun is dazzling, this is not the case with the spiritual Sun; with the spiritual Sun, everything dazzling quickly fades away. And with everything that is imprinted into the ether there, one receives an immensely vivid image extending all the way to Mercury, Venus, and the Moon.

[ 13 ] So we have these various partial images, and you might now say: Of course, at certain times these images are such that Saturn, for example, in its motion, is sometimes in a position where it cannot align with the image of Jupiter. But curiously enough, provision has been made for this as well, for what one sees there actually comes together in a remarkable way. There is a line within the Earth: if one draws this line from a specific point—located east of us, in Asia—through the center of the Earth to the other side and then extends it out into the cosmos, this line becomes extraordinarily significant for the entire vision. If Saturn lies outside this line, one is led to carry the image one has received of it across to this line. There it becomes fixed. These images always become fixed for observation through this line. (A drawing is made.) So, when one sees the image of Jupiter or Saturn somewhere—certainly, one must seek them out—they then become fixed through this line. In this way, one obtains a completely unified image. When we view our planetary system in this way, it presents us with a unified image. And do you know what this unified image is? One unravels it and realizes what it is: This image gives us a general impression of what human skin is, including the sense organs. If you take the human skin—including the sense organs—and try to draw the image of the heavens from it, that is exactly what I have just described. It traces the planetary system into the cosmic ether—that which is present in the human being, specialized by earthly conditions, in the spatial image of the skin’s surface, including the sense organs. There we have the first point: We connect the human being standing on Earth—in terms of the form given to them by the shapes of their skin—to the planetary system, which shapes, forms, and creates the celestial archetype of the earthly human being within the ether.

[ 14 ] The second point is as follows. We see the planets in motion. We will now turn to how the planets move. When we look at a single planet, according to the Ptolemaic system we get a certain picture of its orbit, and likewise, according to the Copernican system, we get a picture of its orbit. That may all be true. The individual pictures of the movements can be interpreted in a wide variety of ways, but what is far more important is that we are able to view all these movements together. Saturn, which travels the farthest distance and takes the longest to complete its orbit, forms a picture in its movement when combined with the movement of Jupiter. And when we look at it this way, a whole emerges from all the movements of these planets. And this picture, which arises in this way from the movements of the planets, can in turn be understood; it is not presented in the same way that astronomy currently expresses these movements. For example, there is the curious fact that spiritual contemplation does not yield the kind of elliptical patterns that astronomy presents; rather, when we observe Saturn, for instance, it reveals something that, in conjunction with other movements, forms the shape of a figure-eight, a kind of lemniscate. And all manner of other planetary movements play a role within this. This, in turn, yields another image. And this image, which we derive from the planetary movements, presents itself to us as the very image—the celestial image—that we can use as the foundation for what finds expression in human beings in the nerves and the adjacent glands. So when we consider the human skin and the sense organs enclosed within it—which we find primordially formed in the arrangement of the planets as it appears to spiritual contemplation—and when we move from there to the movements of the planets and view them together, it will be the case that, as we sketch the outline of the human form, we may get the feeling: In this outline drawing, we are reproducing the form of the planetary system. And when we draw in the nervous system and the secretory glands, then—if we do so correctly based on our observation—with every stroke we must have the feeling that we are drawing into it the physical image of the observed movements of the entire planetary system.

[ 15 ] And now the human being can advance further in his perception—in his spiritual perception of the world. He has come so far that, as I have just described, he has gained a dynamic picture of the planets by mapping out the human nerves along with the adjacent glands. But now he can go further in his understanding. Then the individual movements will disappear. When we ascend from imagination to inspiration, the individual movements disappear. This is extraordinarily significant. What can be called “seeing” in the narrower sense vanishes from the entire picture; suddenly it is gone. But now one begins to hear spiritually. What was previously movement becomes indistinct, merging into one another. In the end, one is left with nothing but a misty image. But from this misty image, the music of the worlds takes shape, and the rhythms of the worlds become spiritually audible to us. And with regard to these rhythms of the worlds, we can then ask ourselves: What must we now do with our outline image, now that we have done the first thing?

[ 16 ] We know that human art can transform many things. When we draw the outline of a human figure and sketch in the nervous system, we feel that we are painting or drawing in the truest sense of the word. But what we hear in the music of the worlds, we cannot paint directly, for these are rhythms and melodies. And if we wanted to incorporate that into our outline drawing, we would have to—following the nervous system we’ve drawn—now draw in such a way that we take a brush, quickly apply a touch of red somewhere, then quickly a touch of blue, again quickly a touch of red, then blue again, and so on, all along the entire nervous system. And at certain points it tugs at us—we can’t go any further there; we have to reach out and paint something special, which then expresses what we hear there. You can translate what you hear there into a drawing, but if you want to incorporate it into the outline, you’re forced to expand in certain places, to create an entirely different form, because what previously unfolded as a rhythm—blue-red, blue-red, blue-red, and so on—becomes a melody. There we are compelled to paint something else into it—to paint a form that the melody sings to us. — Rhythms of the worlds, melodies of the worlds! And once we have drawn the whole of this in, what emerges is the spatially sensed music of the worlds, as it arises when the movements of the planets vanish into nebulae and the music of the worlds then becomes audible to the spiritual ear. And what we have drawn there are the blood vessels. And when we then come to an organ—the heart or lungs, organs that take in substances from the outside or also absorb substances from within the body—when we approach them, we must draw something that, in a certain sense, attaches itself to the blood vessels: this is how the heart, lungs, liver, kidneys, and stomach emerge. And we draw these organs, which are connected to the blood vessels and are excretory organs—secretion may also be involved—we now draw them into our outline of the circulatory system, emerging from the music of the worlds.

[ 17 ] Now let us move on, from inspiration to intuition. Something very special emerges from the music of the worlds. What emerges is that the tones coalesce, one tone exerts an influence on another, and meaning becomes perceptible within this music of the worlds. The music of the worlds transforms into the language of the entire world. What should be summarized under the terms “language of the world” or “cosmic language” becomes audible. In earlier times, this was summarized as the “World Word.” The World Word becomes audible. And as it becomes audible, we are once again compelled to incorporate something further into what we have described regarding the human being. We are already becoming aware of this. We must proceed here just as we do, in a trivial sense, when writing or drawing as human beings—where we express something through word forms shaped as letters—so too must we express the meaning of the individual World Words. And we find that when we express the individual world words and incorporate them into this drawing—just as when someone tells you something and you write it down, so the world language tells you something and you draw it in—the muscular and skeletal system emerges from this within the drawing.

[ 18 ] Now you have extracted the whole human being from what the extraterrestrial world tells you. However, in the course of this observation, something else entirely comes into play.

[ 19 ] Let us return once more to the beginning of all this, to what we find there as a form inscribed in the ether: As we engage in this process of insight, the earthly realm disappears from us; it exists only as a memory. It must indeed remain present in this form, for otherwise we would have no foothold—and we must have this foothold if we are to be spiritual seekers. And it must be said that being a spiritual researcher to the exclusion of physical knowledge is not good. Just as we must be able to remember what we do in physical life—without memory of physical experience, we are not healthy—so, in spiritual scientific knowledge, we must always be able to remember what exists in the physical world. So when we return to the formative forces of the planetary system, the other things that were on Earth—what we ourselves have recognized as the most beautiful achievements of physical science—are, in a sense, completely forgotten for a moment. No matter how well we might know the natural sciences here, in the moment of spiritual insight we must always first reflect on what we have learned in the realm of the physical. We would always have to tell ourselves, “We must stand firm on this”—but it slips away from us; it becomes like a memory.

[ 20 ] In contrast to this—and with particular vividness in relation to physical knowledge, as vivid as a present experience is compared to one that has merely remained in memory—something now emerges that we perceive as the form-shaping force within the planetary system. At that moment, an entirely different environment will be present. At this moment, what is present is what I have described in my Occult Science as the third hierarchy—the hierarchy of the Archai, Archangeloi, and Angeloi. There we see that the third hierarchy lives within this form. A new world is opening up before us. And we now say not merely that the human form, in its cosmic archetype, is present within the planetary system—but we now say: The Angeloi, Archangeloi, and Archai, the beings of the third hierarchy, are at work and weaving within this cosmic archetypal form of the human being.

[ 21 ] We can attain the dawn of such a world through supersensible knowledge here in our earthly existence. After death, every human being must undergo this process of insight. The better a person has prepared for it—through the means available during earthly life—the more successfully they will undergo it. But they must undergo it.

[ 22 ] When a person stands here on Earth and wants to recognize their form, they look at themselves or have their picture taken. After death, there is no way for a person to recognize the forms of others or their own. But after death, a person must look to the planetary configuration. What the planets reveal to them proves to be their true form. There we recognize the human form as I have described it. But interwoven within it, we see the workings and weaving of the third hierarchy: the angels, the archangels, and the primordial forces.

[ 23 ] Now let us continue upward. Once we have recognized that the weaving and life of the angels, archangels, and primordial forces are connected to the form of human skin and the sensory organs embedded within it, we can proceed further in this understanding of humanity’s relationship with the extraterrestrial world. We must first be very clear about one thing: Here on Earth, we speak of how human beings are shaped in this or that way—one has a certain kind of forehead, another has a certain kind of nose, a third has a gloomy expression, another a smiling one, and so on. We stop there. Through cosmic insight, we are led to see the working and weaving of the third hierarchy in everything that constitutes the human form. The human form is not, in reality, of earthly origin; the earthly provides only the substance for it in the embryonic stage. But what works upon the human form from the cosmos are the Archai, Archangeloi, and Angeloi.

[ 24 ] As we continue our ascent, we come to the convergence of movements, which we find reflected in the human nervous system and in the secretory glands; there, interwoven with the movements of the planets, we find the second hierarchy: Exusiai, Kyriotetes, Dynameis. And since these beings of the second hierarchy are connected to the cosmic archetype of the human nervous and glandular systems and work upon it, we—after death, for some time, after we have gone through the process of learning to grasp the human form from its cosmic archetype—we spend time after death ascending to the second hierarchy; there we spend a longer period and come to understand how the earthly human being, whom we now remember, is constituted—in terms of his thinking, his nervous system, and his glandular system—by the beings of the second hierarchy: the Exusiai, Kyriotetes, and Dynameis. And we no longer view the human being as if he were somehow constructed by electricity, magnetism, or the like, but we now recognize how he, as a physical human being, is constituted by the beings of the second hierarchy.

[ 25 ] We then proceed further and, as we ascend to the music of the worlds, the melody of the worlds, and the rhythm of the worlds, we discover that there, too, exists a cosmic archetype of the human being. I have shown you how to sketch this into the outline of the human form. But now, with regard to the contemplation of the hierarchies, we cannot proceed any further. It is once again the same second hierarchy of the Exusiai, Kyriotetes, and Dynameis that is now also at work on what we have just discovered. This is a different kind of activity. It is difficult to express how the first type of work on the nervous system differs from the work on the blood system—specifically, on the rhythmic blood system of the human being. But if we were to express it, we would have to say: In the first activity, the second hierarchy looks down toward the earthly realm; in the other activity, it looks up. Thus, the nervous system and the circulatory system, along with their corresponding organs, are formed by the same hierarchy—only in one case looking down toward the earth, and in the other looking up into the spiritual world, toward heaven.

[ 26 ] If we then proceed from there to intuition and observe how the human system of muscles and bones is woven from the shaping of the world of the Word of the Worlds, the language of the worlds, we arrive at the first hierarchy: the Cherubim, Seraphim, and Thrones. We have then also reached, roughly speaking, that moment between death and new birth that stands in the middle—the one I described in my Mystery Dramas as the “midnight hour of existence.” And we must then regard that which enables human beings to move through the world as woven, begotten, and created by the beings of the first hierarchy.

[ 27 ] Thus, with supersensible insight, we look at the human being, and we see a world of spiritual beings standing behind everything. Today we have become accustomed to understanding the human being in such a way that we begin by seeking to comprehend his skeletal system. Most people start with the skeleton, even though this is—I would say—somewhat nonsensical for a trivial observation, since the skeleton is, after all, formed from the human body’s fluids. It is not the first thing; it is merely what remains of the fluids and can only be understood in this way. But how do people usually proceed? One must learn: arms, hands, humerus, the two forearm bones, the first metacarpal bones, the finger bones, and so on; this is how one lists the skeletal system and memorizes the sequence in this way. As you know, most people have simply memorized it. And one does the same with the muscles, but there it already becomes more difficult—and when one gets to the other organs, one learns those as well, though the concepts already become significantly jumbled. But in a healthy mind, there is nothing else at work but the longing to learn more about this—to understand what all of this depends on, and what is connected to the mystery of the world. And from a genuine observation of the human being, the following would emerge: One begins with the human being’s skin and the senses enclosed within it, and from there ascends to the hierarchy of the Angeloi, Archangeloi, and Archai. One then goes further into the human being, reaches the nervous and glandular systems, and thereby arrives at the next hierarchy: the Exusiai, Kyriotetes, and Dynameis. One remains with these as one approaches the circulatory system and the organized structure of the body. And when one comes to what is built up again by the blood system and the other organs—that which makes a person a moving being, the muscular and skeletal systems—one must ascend to the first hierarchy; there one comes to know, as the deeds of the Seraphim, Cherubim, and Thrones, what the human being possesses in his or her muscular and skeletal systems.

[ 28 ] This gives us the opportunity to describe how the hierarchical order ascends from the third to the second to the first hierarchy. When we describe what is at work there—what is contained within the extraterrestrial and acts upon the earthly—a remarkable picture emerges before us as we observe the deeds of these hierarchies. We look at the hierarchical order; we see, at the bottom, the active beings of the third hierarchy—the angels, archangels, and primordial forces; we then look at the beings of the second hierarchy—the Exusiai, Kyriotetes, and Dynameis; and we observe how all of this works together and interacts within the cosmos. We then look at the beings of the first hierarchy—the Cherubim, Seraphim, and Thrones. And only now does a comprehensible image of the human body emerge before us: on the one hand, the order of the hierarchies, whose actions we trace, and we allow these actions to come before our inner eye—there stands the human being.

[ 29 ] You see, this opens up a perspective that begins precisely where the other one ends. But only this perspective leads us beyond birth and death. No other perspective can tell a person anything about what lies beyond birth and death—only the perspective just described. For what can be described there becomes a vision, becomes an experience for human beings. — We will see in the next lectures how this happens. — Just as human beings on Earth are surrounded by the mineral kingdom, the plant kingdom, and the animal kingdom, and just as the physical human kingdom exerts its influence in the earthly directions—as they perceive there what emanates from minerals, plants, animals, and physical human beings emanates—so, after passing through the gate of death, between death and new birth, he looks upon what flows in from the spiritual world’s activity toward the human being and presents itself to the human being as the result of activity, as the outcome of the actions of the higher hierarchies. And we will also see how this relates to the forms of the other earthly beings; only then can one truly understand the forms of the other earthly beings.

[ 30 ] I’d also like to say the following in preparation for the coming days. Let’s look at an animal. The animal has something that can only resemble the human form in a limited sense. Where does this come from? It stems from the fact that the animal cannot replicate the planetary form that is inscribed in the ether. Only the human being can replicate this form, because he strives toward that line I have spoken of, where this image becomes fixed for him. If a human were to remain a small child forever, never learning to walk but always crawling—if, that is, he were predisposed to do so (which he is not)—then he, too, would be unable to replicate the planetary forms. But by virtue of his organization as a human being, he must replicate them. He must grow into the planetary forms. An animal cannot do this. An animal can only shape its life according to the movements of the planets. There can only be a reproduction of these movements; you can see this in every single part of the animal’s body. If, for example, you look at the skeleton of a mammal, you see the vertebrae of the spine; these are distinct imitations of planetary movements. No matter how many vertebrae a snake may have, each one is an earthly reflection of the planetary movements. On one side of the animal, the Moon—as the planet closest to Earth—exerts a special influence on the animal’s form. Its effect is particularly strong. The skeleton develops into the individual limbs; then these work together to form the vertebral structure. After the Moon, the other planets that move in spiral orbits—Venus and Mercury—come into play. Then we come to the Sun, which, in a sense, brings the formation of the skeleton to a close. There is also a specific point in the formation of the spine where the Sun exerts its influence; for it is there that the spine begins to tend toward the formation of the head. In the formation of the head, we see transformed vertebrae. Where the vertebrae swell out—to use Goethe and Gegenbauer’s expression—and transform into skull bones, there we see the influence of Saturn and Jupiter. So if we trace the skeleton from back to front, we must, in order to understand the animal bones, proceed from the Moon to Saturn. But with regard to the animal form, we cannot trace the structure that is inscribed in the planetary system; rather, we must focus on the movements of the planets. However, what the human being works into his glandular system, the animal works into its entire form. And so we can say of the animal that it does not have the ability to align itself with the structure of the planetary system, but rather begins directly with movement.

[ 31 ] In earlier times, people visualized the motion of the planetary system by saying: The course of the planets proceeds in such a way that it passes through the signs of the zodiac. For example, regarding Saturn’s motion, people knew how to describe Saturn’s passage through the signs of the zodiac, and they knew how to describe the same for each of the other planets. In this way, based on their understanding of animals, they related what constitutes an animal form to the zodiac. The zodiac certainly deserves its name. But the essential point is that animals do not participate in the forms shaped within the ether; rather, only human beings do. And they are able to participate because they are predisposed to walk upright. Through this, the planetary configuration becomes a model within them, whereas in animals it amounts only to an imitation of the movements.

[ 32 ] And so we see that before us stands a spiritual image, a supersensory image of the human being. For in everything I have described so far—the skin, the nervous system, the circulatory system, the muscles, and the bones—there are only forces at work; this is, first and foremost, an image of forces. At conception and birth, this image is united with the physical embryo of the Earth, whereupon it absorbs earthly forces and earthly substances. This image—which is purely spiritual, yet as a spiritual entity is quite distinct—fills itself with earthly substances and forces. The human being descends as if formed in heaven. At first, he is an entirely supersensible being; down to the very bones, he is a supersensible being. Then he unites with the embryonic, with the physical human germ; this fills out the spiritual germ. He takes this on, and upon death, he lets it fall away from himself once more, remaining a spiritual form as he passes through the gate of death.

[ 33 ] Now, to conclude, I would just like to say the following. Let us suppose that a person passes through the gate of death. The physical form that he saw of himself when he looked in the mirror or had his picture taken is no longer there. Nor does it interest him. But the cosmic archetype, inscribed in the ether, is what they then look upon. Yes, it was anchored in their own etheric body during their earthly life, yet they did not perceive it then. It is present on Earth within their physical being, but they do not perceive it. Now, however, they see what their own form truly is. But this image, which he now perceives, also shines. This image radiates forces, and this has a very specific consequence. For what the image radiates acts just as a luminous body otherwise acts, only that it is now meant in the etheric sense. The sun shines physically; this image of the human being, viewed cosmically, shines spiritually, and because it is a spiritual image, it has the power to illuminate other things as well. Here in earthly life, you can place someone who has done good or evil deeds in the sun for a long time: their hair and so on will be illuminated, but their good and evil deeds, as qualities, will not be illuminated. But from what a person experiences in the spiritual world after passing through death—as the luminous image of their own form—a spiritual light radiates that now illuminates their moral deeds. Thus, after death, a person is met by the cosmic image that illuminates their own moral deeds. This was within us during our earthly life; it resonated quietly within us then as our conscience. Now, after death, we perceive it objectively. Then we know: this is ourselves; this is what we must have around us after death. Then we are relentless with ourselves. For this illuminating force does not now conveniently conform to what we might present here—by excusing our sins and emphasizing our good deeds—but rather, what shines forth from us is an implacable judge who, with clear light, illuminates the true worth of our actions. Conscience itself becomes a cosmic impulse that acts outside of us after death.

[ 34 ] These are the things that lead us from the earthly human being to the supersensible human being. And one can certainly say: The earthly human being, who comes into being at birth and perishes at death, can be understood anthropologically, as is customary today; the supersensible human being, who permeates earthly matter only in order to manifest himself outwardly—this supersensible human being, this higher human being—must be understood anthroposophically.

[ 35 ] That is what we intend to do in the course of these lectures.