The Rudolf Steiner Archive

Fifth Lecture

[ 1 ] First and foremost, I would like to thank Dr. Zeylmans and all of you for giving me the opportunity to say a few words here about the—if I may put it that way—medical implications of the anthroposophical approach to research. Of course, in just two short hours, it will only be possible to offer a few brief insights, and given that the perspective I will have to adopt differs from the one commonly used today, it will be particularly difficult to go beyond the fact that much of what needs to be said may appear—from today’s perspective, from the perspective to which we are accustomed— — must appear quite paradoxical, perhaps more than paradoxical. But the distinguished audience here will surely know how, in the course of humanity’s historical development, we have learned to rethink many things; and so, at least initially, there will also be a certain degree of forbearance for the fact that a perspective arising from genuine, conscientious research must, at times, appear paradoxical.

[ 2 ] The first thing I would like to say by way of introduction, however, is that the medical implications of the anthroposophical research method are not about pitting something that is absolutely “new” against what today’s conscientious medicine—based on natural science that has been in use for centuries—has to say. The research method I am discussing here does not seek to overturn anything, but rather aims to do the exact opposite: By taking into account various developments that have emerged in recent times from the conscientious sensory-empirical methods of natural science applied to medicine, it must, from the vast range of questions that have arisen there, claim for itself that modern medicine points everywhere to a realm that is still difficult for it to enter—for the reason that, yes, because the research methods are, in essence, so meticulous, so precise—so precise in relation to the sensory-empirical methods with which we are all familiar. But precisely because of what has made the natural sciences great—what has enabled them, in their own way, to provide such a significant foundation for medicine—precisely because of that, certain paths to understanding human beings, and thus to medicine, have in turn been made impossible. And so please allow me today to begin by outlining a few fundamental principles, and then tomorrow I will discuss the specific characteristics of some of our remedies that are typical and distinctive.

[ 3 ] From the very beginning, we did not choose the path of saying to ourselves: “Anthroposophy must know something about everything, and must therefore also have something to say about medicine.” That is the method of agitators. We, however, standing on truly anthroposophical ground, wish to adopt the standpoint of genuine scientific knowledge, at least in our foundational principles. And this is also why this medical movement arose within the broader anthroposophical movement in the first place—because physicians, particularly those in Germany, but ultimately physicians from all countries, have found that: contemporary natural science and medicine raise questions that cannot be answered using the methods in use today—at least not carried through from diagnosis and pathology to a rational therapy. These physicians then came forward and asked whether anthroposophy, with its particular understanding of the human being—an understanding that can penetrate deeper into the human being than is possible with the methods commonly used today—might have something to say about medicine. So it was actually—I would say, prompted—precisely by those physicians who were dissatisfied, or who had become somewhat skeptical as a result of their studies and practice, that what I will be speaking to you about today and tomorrow came into being. From the very beginning, we did not adopt the stance that we could now introduce all manner of amateurish elements into a field of research that is conducted conscientiously and has been put into practice. And when, with the founding of the “Kommender Tag” in Stuttgart and the “Futurum” in Switzerland, it was suggested that we now also cultivate the field of medicine, I came to say: Certainly, what anthroposophy has to offer can shed light on the preparation of remedies, but one should not simply set out to prepare remedies; rather, everything done in this direction should be in the closest connection with medicine, with actual practice. And so our institutes came into being; on the one hand, they are indeed institutes for the preparation of remedies according to the methods I will discuss; but these institutes are linked to clinical facilities, and in time I will have to refer more often, in particular, to that clinical institute which has now become exemplary above all others: the one run by Dr. Wegman in Arlesheim, which is directly connected to the Goetheanum, our anthroposophical university in Switzerland. There, indeed, it is possible—through constant interaction with patients—to enter into a living connection with regard to therapy, which, according to the anthroposophical approach to research, is to be cultivated today as the great question of our time.

[ 4 ] But we did not stop there. We have established actual research institutes affiliated with these institutions. Specifically, we have established a biological institute, as well as physics institutes—though I do not wish to discuss those for the time being, as they are still in the very early stages of their work. At the Biological Research Institute—which I want to mention so that you can see that we aim to work with the same precision that is otherwise required—we have already produced two studies. Please do not take it as mere vanity on my part when I express my conviction—oh no, it is, after all, important to honestly state what one can be convinced of based on the available results—when I say: Despite some methodological objections that can still be raised in specific details, these two results are, for now, such that they can indicate how we are striving for the same precision that is otherwise sought today in the scientific foundations of medicine as well.

[ 5 ] The first study to emerge from our research institute is a study on the function of the spleen, and since in these two lectures I can really only offer perspectives and suggestions, I hope you will forgive me if I can only touch on certain points. In the course of my anthroposophical research, I myself have become particularly interested in the function of the spleen, and I will indeed be speaking shortly about what might be called the method of Spiritual Science. Through these methods, it has become clear to me just how unique the function of the spleen is within the entirety of the human organism—a function which, as you know, represents a sort of crux for anthropology. Human beings—I can only hint at this now—carry within themselves the most diverse processes, including those that require rhythm. Such processes include not only breathing and blood circulation, but also rhythms of a broader scope, such as the digestive rhythm. Now, the digestive rhythm is something demanded by human nature itself, but it can never be maintained in the way that nature demands it. According to the demands of his organism, a human being would actually have to eat and drink with tremendous rhythmic regularity. But this is impossible; for even if one were to schedule meal times with great pedantry, this would still not ensure that the rhythmic pattern demanded by the organism could actually be maintained. For one eats this on one day and that on another, and one would have to proceed with a level of detailed knowledge bordering on the immeasurable if one were to do all of this. Breathing and blood circulation have it easier, but the digestive rhythm—because we are dependent on our interaction with the outside world—is something that simply cannot be maintained. Now, the functions of the spleen are designed to compensate for and correct those irregularities that inevitably arise in the digestive rhythm, by integrating these spleen functions with the entire digestive function in the broadest sense. That is what dawned on me back then. Now, at our Biological Research Institute, through methods that are, after all, as precise as clinical methods generally are today—even if some objections can be raised regarding the details—this has been fully empirically confirmed through the work on spleen function. It is indeed a body of work that one would like to believe, had it been conducted at an ordinary clinic, would have made a major impact in the field of medical thought. The fact that this has not been the case—and I ask that you not interpret this as mere vanity on my part—that this work, carried out with tremendous dedication by Dr. Kolisko, remains largely unknown even today, is due solely to the fact that it arose from an anthroposophical foundation.

[ 6 ] The second work is one in which a scientific-medical “belief,” to the extent that it can become an exact science, has been transformed into just that. You will not assume that I intend here to advocate in any way for the highly controversial field of homeopathy in its relationship to allopathy; that would not occur to me, for I know how much layman’s thinking and amateurism is embedded in the common homeopathic view. But it cannot be denied that substances in high dilutions can have far-reaching effects, even in the realm of external physics. It cannot, therefore, be assumed from the outset that substances in high dilutions cannot have any effects at all. Just consider how numerous are the effects produced by inhaling any substances that are present in an extraordinarily fine dispersion. We often fail to realize, when we have people take a bath, that it is far more important for them to inhale the vapors—in which certain substances are present in very high dilutions—than the effects the bath itself has from the outside. Until now, however, all of this has been a kind of scientific belief. We have now actually attempted to scientifically substantiate this belief—within the limits, of course, where it is justified; of course, the results must not be turned into a panacea—by scientifically substantiating it through the preparation of dilutions in a ratio of up to one to a trillion, so that we can truly say: this is no longer a matter of the ordinary material effect manifesting itself, but rather of the function that lives within the substances and is transferred into the medium. We are dealing here with nothing other than the functional form. Yet we have managed to demonstrate that the diluted entities unfold rhythmic effects that are astonishing. To this end, we made use of the growth of seeds. We were precise and careful in our selection of seeds. We allowed the seeds to germinate in metal solutions, using the metal compound in appropriate dilutions, and we were indeed able to demonstrate how the metal solutions—diluted at ratios of one to ten, one to twenty, one to fifty, one to one hundred, one to five hundred, and so on—affect the growth forces of the plants. This yields interesting curves that show a high degree of regularity, so that one can say: At a certain dilution, the vitalizing force is still influenced in a certain way; as the dilution increases further, this influence diminishes. If one goes even further, the vitalizing force is then influenced to a greater extent again due to the higher dilution. This results in a descending and an ascending curve, which then serve as an expression of the effects of highly diluted entities that can be precisely substantiated. And with that, the small part—the fragment of what, I say explicitly, homeopathy misuses—has been elevated to the status of a precise field of research. I am not saying this primarily to attach greater significance to these particular results; I say it only to show that we make every effort not to work in an amateurish, layman-like manner outside the realm of science, but rather to first place ourselves firmly on the ground of current research methods commonly used in science. But from there, we must then proceed accordingly.

[ 7 ] It is historically understandable that, given the tremendous advances—at least in the natural sciences—that have emerged over the past few centuries, particularly in the 19th century, humanity was, so to speak, mesmerized by what sensory-physical observation and precise experimentation could yield. But when it comes to understanding human beings—and indeed, even to the most ordinary physical understanding of human beings—it is simply not possible to use these research methods to the extent that they yield an inner grasp of the essence of the human organism. And this is simply because, on the one hand, we are making magnificent and tremendous progress in understanding the physical organization of the human being, but on the other hand, precisely because of the precision and fruitfulness of these research methods, we end up simply excluding an entire aspect of the human being that is just as real as the physical human being. The magnitude of scientific research could also be gauged by the fact that, with tremendous energy, it has expelled from our understanding of the human being that which constitutes the spiritual-soul aspect of the human being—which, as we shall see, must be regarded in medical practice as no less a reality than the physical human being. To this end, it is necessary for me to first say a few fundamental things about the anthroposophical research method in general, particularly insofar as it leads to an understanding of the human being.

[ 8 ] The point is that, despite all our research today, we simply remain stuck at the stage where we have arrived in our psychological constitution—which includes our capacity for cognition—as a result of what culture has already produced: our school education and the education we receive within the established sciences. That is where we remain. We do not say to ourselves: As two- or three-year-old children, we are still, in our soul life, quite unlike the mood and constitution of our souls in later life. We develop; we become quite different in our soul life over the course of, say, fifteen years of our human youth. By the time we are eighteen or nineteen, we possess abilities that we did not have as two- or three-year-old children—let alone earlier; these develop from within us. Why, then, should it not be possible to raise the question: May we not consider ourselves, even as adults, to still be relatively capable of development? May we, so to speak, arbitrarily bring this development of the soul to a close? It is, of course, first and foremost a question that involves inner experimentation. But whoever experiments, whoever truly tries to go beyond what is today regarded as the norm of human soul development to reach even other soul capacities—such a person can do it; such a person will succeed! More detailed information on this can be found in my books How Does One Attain Knowledge of the Higher Worlds?, An Outline of Esoteric Science, and others. In principle, I simply wish to suggest that we are capable of further developing what we otherwise call “thinking”—that which we know from its application not only in everyday life but also in conventional science, when we conduct experiments and interpret observations—that we can develop this “thinking” further. When this is said, people usually immediately begin to say: “Yes, now he’s coming out with ‘mystical development.’” — But if one wishes to refer contemptuously to the mystical development—if one wishes to use that word—of which I am speaking here, then one should also refer contemptuously to mathematics and geometry. The essence of mathematics and geometry is this: that one moves with complete composure from one arrangement to another, so that nothing from the subconscious or the realm of suggestion can come into play. It is this composure, this full consciousness, that must guide us everywhere in our approach to the object, in mathematics and geometry. The very same approach one takes toward the object, inwardly, when proceeding with precision—that same approach can be applied to one’s own spiritual development. Not in that mystical obfuscation with which people often speak of mysticism, but with complete clarity, the soul can be further developed in terms of its capacity for thought, but not by brooding inwardly, rather by starting from very specific, manageable mental images and, from there—just as is done in mathematics with regard to the object—accepting nothing other than that which allows one to move from one content of consciousness to another with complete composure. If one applies this as a truly internally precise method of spiritual development for a sufficiently long time—it takes longer for some, shorter for others—then one does indeed come to gradually grasp thinking not as it is otherwise passive, but in its activity; so that, whereas one otherwise passively follows with one’s thoughts what one can observe, one comes to experience an inner activity.

[ 9 ] This inner activity of thinking provides the first true insight into what is supersensible in the human being—the first stage. I would like to say: when one approaches the human being from the outside—and one can chart the entire blood dynamics—one has, in a sense, a picture of the human being, or a part of the human being, as viewed from the outside, in the blood dynamics. By proceeding in the way I have just hinted at regarding thinking, however, one comes to experience oneself as inwardly fulfilled in relation to a second human being—the human being who is independent of the physical organism.

[ 10 ] Anyone who believes that anything suggestive is at work here fails to recognize that the methods I am referring to here are thoroughly precise methods, in which everything is experienced with complete composure; so that one can identify precisely whatever might be even in the slightest way suggestive within the soul and reject it. The path one takes with this method is the exact opposite of one that could introduce anything suggestive or autosuggestive into consciousness. But one arrives at the following:

[ 11 ] If one observes the child’s gradual development through a precise method of observation—one acquired precisely through such a process of intellectual development—one will notice a significant difference between the child’s overall constitution up until about the time of tooth replacement, around the seventh or eighth year of life, and thereafter. The difference that exists between the earlier and later stages is such that one must first acquire the capacity for attention to perceive it. Otherwise, one overlooks it, pays no attention to it; but one must begin precisely there—I would say, with the courage to approach human beings and such observations with the same precision that we have become accustomed to in physics in the course of recent scientific research. In physics, we speak of latent heat and of heat that actually manifests; we speak of how, through some process, a state of heat—which would otherwise remain latent in a substance, that is, which is contained within the substance—can be released. We must also arrive at what external physical science has already achieved. We must be able to muster the courage to do so—the courage, for example, with regard to the development of the human soul. And once we have this courage to explore, the following becomes apparent: We see—we need only learn to direct our attention to it—how, in a child who has gone through the process of losing baby teeth, inner soul forces emerge that were not there before. Not even pedagogy has advanced far enough today to say anything about this, not because it lacks precise observation—since the curves do not rise as high as mountains or fall as deep as valleys—but because these are subtleties that must be observed with a different, spiritual gaze; that is why little attention is paid to them today. But for those who cultivate a spiritual perspective on research, it becomes clear that, for example, everything we call the capacity for memory undergoes a radical change with the loss of baby teeth. The ability to remember used to be one in which a certain elemental force would still cause the mental image the child creates in memory to shoot forth from the organism. That particular kind of memory experience, in which one goes back and has the feeling of returning to what has been experienced, only sets in with the change of teeth.

[ 12 ] Thus, countless aspects of psychological experience first emerge with the change of teeth. They are present then; they did not manifest themselves in the child’s nature before. Where were they? They were contained within the child’s nature, just as latent heat is contained within a substance; and those organic processes that have only their outward symptom in the change of teeth have drawn out what was previously contained within the organism and working upon it, just as any physical process draws out latent heat from a substance. Today, psychology speaks of psychophysical parallelism and the like; it cannot conceive that there might be a connection between what we have conceptualized in psychology today—the purely abstractly conceived mental realm—and what, in turn, manifests itself anatomically and physiologically, because the two things are such that, when viewed in such an abstract way, one cannot find a bridge from one to the other.

[ 13 ] But human beings are, after all, evolving beings. If we look at what is present in the soul after the teeth have fallen out—at what has emerged in the soul—we can say: the same forces that now confront us as metamorphosed thinking in the soul were previously organic forces, acting as forces of organ growth in the child; so that here we have an empirical relationship between soul life and physical life, which one simply has to look for at the right stage of human development.

[ 14 ] If one now engages in the kinds of thought exercises I have spoken of, one comes to realize once again—though now on a spiritual level—that there is something in this thinking that is as strong and as active as the thinking still present in the organism, which in children up until the change of teeth is at the same time a force of growth and organization. This is the second human being one discovers within oneself: it is, on a higher level, that which is not ordinary, merely passive thinking, but rather what permeates and organizes us as a second, etheric body—please do not take offense at the expression. So the anthroposophical method of research is not about rambling on about some imagined etheric body, but rather about the fact that—I can only offer hints here—one can empirically point out everywhere how what is discovered through these special methods of knowledge is actually at work in human nature; for when we look at a child, what we later find in thought is already at work. So if I want to understand the child’s growth forces, if I want to know what it is that is particularly vitalizing within the child, I find it in what I call imaginative knowledge, for that makes it the inner content of consciousness. If, for example, the forces that are growth forces in the child later pass into the soul life but then act passively—if healing forces are contained within these growth forces—then I can only investigate these healing forces if I, in turn, come to observe and inwardly experience, using the actual method of Spiritual Science, what these vitalizing forces are. This makes it possible, in fact, not merely to see something fantastical in the things one has come to understand, but rather something that is active within the human organism, and thus to transform external anthropology into true anthroposophy through inner empiricism.

[ 15 ] And just as one discovers this second human being through a special training of the mind, so, if one goes further, one can discover a third human being within these two—the physical and the etheric. But please do not take offense at this—for terminology is necessary everywhere—if I call him the astral human; anthroposophy already provides the reasons for this. I wish only to point here to the constitution of the human being itself.

[ 16 ] Once one has reached the point of truly experiencing this second, ethereal human being inwardly, independent of the physical human being, then one has a content of consciousness. With regard to this, I can say: One feels almost as secure within it as one does in one’s physical body during normal waking consciousness. - One already senses this second human being. That is why what must now follow—bringing forth what I have described as the etheric human being—is a much more intense inner process. For one can only achieve what comes next by gaining the strength to visualize this etheric human being. This must now be done very consciously, so that, in a sense, one “drives out” again after having “driven in.” Even the preliminary exercise for this is generally not entirely easy. Mental images to which one has long clung, which were so present that they occupied one’s entire consciousness—but again, with full composure, so that nothing suggestive can be involved—are already difficult to set aside, since they operate with much greater force in consciousness than the mental images that fleetingly take root in everyday life and through ordinary observation. But once one has practiced freeing one’s consciousness in the first place—freeing it in a more conscious way from whatever may be present within it—then one also comes to the point where one can suggest away this self-created image that one has formed and restore an empty consciousness. This state of consciousness is then precisely the state in which a person would be if, after falling into ordinary, dreamless sleep, they suddenly perceived a different world around them—if they were to awaken not in the body but outside the body, and not in the physical world but in a spiritual world.

[ 17 ] This awakening can be achieved by doing what I have just described: after first energizing consciousness in the strongest possible way so that it has acquired an ethereal content, one then empties it again, achieving empty consciousness—mere wakefulness—without the content one otherwise has in life or in science. To achieve empty consciousness—you know how difficult that is in ordinary life, for when one allows sensory perceptions to fade away in ordinary life, one simply falls asleep. But in the way I have described, one arrives at empty consciousness, which is merely awake; yet it does not remain that way for long. Then the spiritual world enters—above all, a third human being, a human being who is now, in essence, nothing but inner function, inner mobility, and activity. The second, etheric human being, is the vitalizing force; the third, astral human being, is mobility and activity.

[ 18 ] There is also a fourth kind of human being who makes it possible for us to be human in the fullest sense of the word. I may have the opportunity to elaborate on this in the course of these lectures; for now, I will merely suggest that this is the true “I-being,” for what I have described so far is also found in animals: the physical body, the etheric body, and the astral body. Human beings, however, also have the ability to experience within themselves that synthesis of their constituent parts—not abstractly, but concretely. When a human being not only creates empty consciousness—and thereby perceives the spiritual world—but goes even further and uses that experience of the spiritual world to generate further energy, then he ascends to the full mental image of the “I.”

[ 19 ] In this way, one can form a mental image of what gradually becomes the content of the human being through anthroposophically precise methods. This content of the human being is now truly present. Just as heat, which was at first latent and was later brought to the surface to become real heat, manifests itself in its physical effects, so too do the etheric body, the astral body, and the “I” manifest themselves fully in the human being. And we can only understand the human being if we can truly grasp this interplay of the four members of his being.

[ 20 ] Let us consider a specific detail. Let us examine it in detail so that we can form a mental image of how these things can interact—for example, the kidney and human kidney function. In every single part of the human body, the four aspects of human nature interact to a greater or lesser extent. Now, when we study kidney function, what we observe in a cadaver or elsewhere is merely the sum of physical effects. This sum of physical effects, however, is permeated by what I initially called the etheric body—that is, by that part of the etheric body which specifically contains the vital functions for the kidney. This, in turn, is permeated by the astral body, and it is in the interplay of these aspects of human nature that we find what makes the human being internally comprehensible, even in the case of a single organ or organ system. Let us now consider the case where we observe certain irregularities in kidney function. I need only point this out in general terms, since you are experts in this field. It will become clear to anyone who now understands the whole matter as I have indicated that, in some way, the physical kidney function and the etheric kidney function are resisting the astral kidney function. So this is a typical case. One might conclude that the physical and etheric kidney structures are resisting the astral kidney function—which one can only perceive once one has established a state of empty consciousness. Now, however, the situation is this: when a living organ—the kidney—opposes the astral function through its physical and etheric organization, the astral organization must intervene more thoroughly and energetically—otherwise the organ would simply atrophy; and therefore—in specific cases, of course; I always describe particularly concrete cases—we have a special concentration of that part of the astral organization corresponding to the kidney on kidney activity. In other words: the astral kidney function becomes much more self-contained than it is permitted to be, given the human constitution as a whole; so that anyone who perceives the kidney function in this way has the following picture: Here the astral body is performing work on the kidney that it is withdrawing from the totality of the human being, within which it must be active; it is creating a process in the kidney that really ought not to be there. It is precisely the specific, abnormal developmental phases in the physical and etheric kidneys that place an excessive demand on the astral kidney.

[ 21 ] The task now is to take the diagnosis this far. It should be understood that the astral part of the kidney is now performing a function that it does not normally perform in the healthy functioning of the organism; it is performing a task it should not actually be performing, but which the kidney—as it now is in its diseased, pathological state, or as an etheric kidney—demands of this astral part. This brings us to the first part, the very first link in an understanding of the nature of the sick person. For the thinking person, disease processes should actually be the greatest mystery, for they are, after all, natural processes. But normal processes are also natural processes. How do these abnormal processes—these disease processes—come to be interwoven right in the midst of the normal processes? As long as one regards the human being merely as a homogeneous fabric of physical substances and functions, one cannot actually distinguish between what is physiological and what is pathological; but one does arrive at this distinction when one knows that the kidney can undergo metamorphosis simply by developing physical processes that the normal kidney does not develop, because in the normal kidney there is the proper harmony between the physical, etheric, and astral kidneys. This, then, is what one first comes to understand.

[ 22 ] The question now is: How can this pathological process—which can simply be explained as an excessive strain on a particular supersensible aspect of human nature—possibly be eliminated? How can we restore the astral human to normal functioning?

[ 23 ] In these discussions, I always want to focus on very specific, individual cases. I do not want to speak of a severe kidney disease, because the fundamental principle of the matter can also become clear to us in the case of a mild kidney disease. However, just so that I can suggest how to treat such a kidney, I would like to start with a very specific example.

[ 24 ] What we know, first of all, is that we must now free the astral body from its work on the kidney, which is deformed in the broadest sense. There is a process taking place there that the human astral body should not be involved in; we must remove it from the abnormally proceeding process of the kidney.

[ 25 ] If we now gain that kind of comprehensive insight that first focuses on the human being and then on the world, the following becomes apparent when using the method I have described. We turn our gaze from the human being to the external natural world. We come to study the specific nature of Equisetum arvense. When we study this Equisetum, focusing not so much on the individual substances of which it consists but rather on the process at work within it, we arrive at the following: Today, because materialistic thinking has taken hold of everything, it is customary to state, with regard to all organic matter, that it consists of such-and-such amounts of protein, fat, and carbohydrates, and so on. Everywhere we look, we focus on what external chemistry can identify as the individual constituents of a substance, and in this way arrive at the elements, as they were once called; the situation has, of course, changed somewhat since then. But that is not what matters first and foremost in what I have in mind here. What interests us particularly about Equisetum is that when we analyze it—that is, when we break down its functions—among the components that remain, we find silica as the main constituent. It must therefore be present in such a high concentration that it predominates—that is, that its silicic acid function is still active in Equisetum. In analyzing, we do not recognize the substance as such, but rather the significance of the substance. And that is what must be recognized.

[ 26 ] Equisetum is a plant; in it we do not find an astral body, but we do find a physical body and an etheric body. We study Equisetum arvense and find that silicic acid, in particular, plays a role. Of course, there are also other plants that contain silicic acid. We also find that certain sulfuric acid salts play a role, and finally we find that the most important constituents that still assert their nature, their essence, in Equisetum are silicic acid—but not the “substance,” rather the silicic acid function—and the sulfur function. And now we discover something very remarkable. When we are able, through our spiritually developed faculties, to penetrate the special nature of the connection between the sulfuric acid salts and silicic acid, SiO, we find that there is a process, a functional relationship, which we then introduce into the human organism, whether internally or—in the case of other procedures, where oral administration is not necessary—through a bath or by injection. The significance of these individual methods will be discussed later. However, when we introduce Equisetum into the human organism in a certain way—though it is better now not to use Equisetum as such, and this is the essence of our remedy preparation, because while the effects are present, clear, but not as lasting—if we now study the functional relationship between silicic acid and sulfur and then attempt to mimic it in the preparation, we thereby gain, through the transposition of what can be studied in Equisetum into the more or less inorganic preparation, the ability to produce stronger effects on the human organism than those achieved, for example, by using the mere plant as a tea or the like. Herein lies, in particular, the essence of the preparation of our remedies.

[ 27 ] If I now introduce the functional relationship between sulfur and silicic acid into the human organism in the proper way, then—simply by virtue of the special quality of this functional relationship—the following occurs: the process that the human astral body must carry out while the disease is present is now taken over by the kidney. So if I introduce the functioning of sulfur and silicic acid from Equisetum arvense into the kidney, I relieve the human astral body of the task it would otherwise have to perform on the deformed kidney—deformed here in the broadest sense of the word; I allow, so to speak, the disease process to be carried out initially by something I have introduced into the body.

[ 28 ] This is, in fact, the very beginning of every healing process. One must understand the disease process. One must first have a rational understanding of pathology, must understand the disease process, and must investigate whether there is anything in nature that can precisely replicate this disease process. For one must not assume, at first, that one can always combat the disease process in every instance; rather, one must actually counteract it. The disease process must be counteracted by something whose dynamics are understood—as is the case here with Equisetum, sulfur, and silicic acid. Then one is able to release what, as in this case of kidney disease, previously functioned as the astral body. And by releasing this, one must also ensure that the person is internally strengthened through diet and other means, so that they can apply all their inner forces more vigorously than usual—that is, one must direct some energy toward the entire astral body. Then, having thus liberated the astral body in all its normality, one causes the healing aspect of the astral body to eradicate the diseased aspect in the specific case, provided that one has first allowed the excessive activity of the astral body to be taken over by an external function.

[ 29 ] This is how one arrives at a rational understanding of healing. This healing generally always consists of intercepting the disease process through an intervening process introduced from the outside, and then, through energization, prompting what is already within the person to overcome the disease process—while this is not possible as long as—as in this case—the astral body must direct its activity one-sidedly toward the kidney, which is not as it should be. But what I have just described is the case—or can be the case—with all those disease processes that are based on irregularities in organs that—as I would like to call them—act centrifugally, acting centrifugally inward. The kidney is an excretory organ that primarily secretes inward; even though excretion occurs outward, it secretes inward. And pathological processes—if one understands what I have said—must be understood in such a way that healing consists in our inducing a centrifugal process in the kidney through the administration of Equisetum arvense, a process radiating outward from the kidney.

[ 30 ] There are, however, other processes that reveal to us, as it were, the polar opposite of what I have just described. And here again, I do not wish to cite a serious illness, but rather—in order to discuss the principle—something that, while it may attract only more or less passing attention compared to the actual, deeper illnesses of the human being, is above all extraordinarily unpleasant for the patient: hay fever, hay fever catarrh. If one wishes to combat this, one must be aware that one is dealing with a very severe constitutional disorder. Ultimately, however, this stems from a peripheral weakening of the astral body and its forces within the human being—this third, inwardly dynamic aspect of the human being. We can, in fact, trace hay fever all the way back to early childhood, where we usually encounter general illnesses that go largely unnoticed, which then develop into what manifests as hay fever in later life. And since we know that hay fever stems from the astral body’s decline in certain functions—its failure to reach the physical and etheric bodies—our first priority must be to internally energize this astral body and restore it to its proper functions; so that where we are dealing with more outward-directed, centrifugal effects in pathology, we can now counter them with something else. In the example of kidney disease, we have, so to speak, intercepted the disease; we have viewed the astral body in such a way that, once it is freed from its abnormal activity, we need only energize and strengthen it; then, once we relieve it of what it had to do for the diseased kidney, it will already begin to work toward health. This is not the case with processes such as hay fever. There, we should not aim to intercept the disease process, but rather we must actively counter it with an equivalent process moving in the polar opposite direction. And it has turned out that we can stimulate the astral body to perform the function it no longer carries out—because it no longer has access to the physical body and etheric body—precisely when we use certain juices from fruits that have peels, which in fact produce centripetal effects within the fruit, and when we prepare the corresponding remedy from these fruit juices, as an ointment for milder cases and as an injection for more severe ones. We drive it back toward the physical and etheric bodies, and in this regard, we have indeed achieved quite remarkable results. Dr. Wegman has administered injections of our hay fever remedy to numerous patients and has had the most remarkable success precisely in this area. It is entirely possible, based on this line of thinking, to reach a point where we can reach out to the astral body that has become sluggish and energize it, so that through this process—which is brought about by the injection—one can observe exactly how those physical functions, which are affected by what is being administered, are influenced; these processes then have a specific affinity for particular organs; so when we use a specific fruit juice, it has a special affinity for certain organs; one must then investigate the specific areas and understand the currents in which these affinities manifest—and can clearly see how those physical functions, which arise due to what has become lax and sluggish in the astral body—functions that would not occur if they were sustained by the astral body—actually cease to occur when we now intercept the astral body itself. Previously, we intercepted the disease process; now we intercept the process in the specific area we wish to treat. Thus, with regard to the preparations we use, we must distinguish between processes that act more centrifugally—as I described in the case of the kidney process—and healing processes that act more centripetally, such as in the case of hay fever remedies.

[ 31 ] When one considers these things, one might at first think they are merely a figment of the imagination. Most people today also believe they are a figment of the imagination. That is why I placed great importance on ensuring that we not only produce such remedies, but that our institutes operate in accordance with this medical philosophy. Now, when testing these remedies, one is dealing with a different situation than when trying out remedies purely from an external, empirical standpoint. In the latter case, one relies mainly on statistics, which tell us: if the number of cases where a remedy has helped is very large in comparison to those where it has not, then the statistics support us. But if one proceeds from a method such as the one I have discussed, one can, in a certain sense, discern from an understanding of the disease process what must occur in a specific healing process. Pathology and therapy become one! For the fact is this: if, through diagnosis, I recognize what is happening in the diseased kidney, then it is the same process—only on a different level—that I must apply in therapy: I must intercept the process; I must introduce something into the human organism through the combination of sulfur and silicic acid, so that I myself can bring about what presents itself to me as a pathological process. I heal by developing a therapy that is an imitation of the disease process on a different level, and this must be carried out by the astral body. If, for example, I introduce the Equisetum function into the human organism, I leave it in the etheric body, and I relieve the astral body of its work on the diseased kidney.

[ 32 ] Thus, what today otherwise stands entirely side by side and can only be brought together on a purely empirical basis—pathology and therapy—is transformed into an absolute unity. If one recognizes the nature of the disease process in this way, one must find in the external natural world how, for example, a specific renal process is imitated in Equisetum arvense; or if one recognizes that the bile secretion process in the liver, in certain forms of disease, is truly such in its inner nature that we find this form of the disease—the process of bile secretion—in Cichorium intybus, for example, then we are able, through the way the function proceeds in Cichorium intybus, to relieve the astral body of the liver in the process of bile secretion of what it would otherwise have to do. In this way, we make progress in healing in such a way that the pathology itself is, in fact, nothing other than the therapy. This makes therapy a truly rational science. — If, for example, one is aware of the remarkable connection that exists between iron and, in particular, certain plant mucilage components and salts of Anisum vulgare, one can recognize how there is something active within this anise—specifically in the seed of Anisum [Pimpinella anisum]—that is one and the same as certain hyperinflammatory disease processes in the blood. We can relieve the blood of these pathological processes by appropriately using a preparation modeled on the relationship between certain plant mucilage substances and the iron in anise. In this way, we not only free the astral body but, in cases of blood disorders, the ego organization is also involved.

[ 33 ] In this way, we come to turn our gaze toward nature as a whole. What we see as the beauty of nature outside is, in fact, nothing but imitations of disease processes. In human beings, these are internal disease processes; outside, they manifest as the wonderfully beautiful natural world. But one must understand the connection and know how to incorporate disease functions into human beings from the vast field of natural processes, thereby relieving the supersensible aspects of human nature of these disease processes. Now we are no longer reliant on statistics! For if one recognizes such a connection through inner insight, and observes how the effects must occur, then it is just like a physical experiment correctly carried out with exact scientific rigor. After all, one does not proceed strictly according to statistics there either; rather, one knows—for example, in the case of Mariotte-Gay-Lussac’s law—that this is an experiment carried out with precision, which, when performed precisely, also serves as proof. With human beings, it is not quite as simple as with a physical experiment, but it is essentially the same if, in gaining insight into the disease process, one can specify: “This or that must have an effect”—and then observe, step by step, how it works. What is necessary here—and this is precisely what is present to such a high degree at Dr. Wegman’s Clinical-Therapeutic Institute in Arlesheim—is that one truly banishes all medical skepticism; for that is actually what continually places the greatest obstacles in one’s path. What Dr. Wegman possesses is the courage to heal. The courage to heal is essential to everything! Then one is also able to observe the disease process and begin to counter it by, so to speak, intercepting it. But then it becomes especially important to observe how all of this actually unfolds—provided one is not careless—but rather that one follows the healing process step by step. And then one also knows where something is not right; then one must go back and investigate where one may have overlooked something. But if, in every single case, one has the courage to heal and truly assumes nothing else, desires nothing else but to heal—to courageously heal the disease processes— then one has what can inspire one most deeply: a precisely scientific foundation for medicine that does not merely seek to derive a rational therapy as a consequence of precise pathology, but one in which the healing process is already present in the diagnosis itself. Then one cannot speak of the disease process in any other way than to say that, along with the diagnosis, one already has the therapy. One then describes kidney disease in such a way that the description is very similar to what occurs in Equisetum arvense: one applies what one observes in the kidney to an external natural phenomenon; thus, in making a diagnosis, one describes it in such a way that the diagnosis itself contains the healing process.