The Rudolf Steiner Archive

Second Lecture

My dear friends!

[ 1 ] In the first few hours, we will compile, based on our understanding of the conditions necessary for agriculture to thrive, what is essential from that understanding in order to then draw the actual practical conclusions—conclusions that are to be put into practice immediately and have meaning only in that immediate application. So, right from the very first lessons, you will have to examine how agricultural products are actually produced and how they exist throughout the world.

[ 2 ] Well, agriculture truly fulfills its essence in the best sense of the word when it can be understood as a kind of individuality in and of itself, a truly self-contained individuality. And every agricultural system should actually strive—though this cannot be fully achieved, it should strive—toward this state of being a self-contained individuality. That is to say, the possibility should be created to have everything needed for production within the agricultural system itself, whereby the corresponding livestock population must, of course, be included in the agricultural system. Essentially, in an ideally organized agricultural system, the fertilizers and similar materials brought in from outside should be regarded as a remedy for an ailing agricultural system.

[ 3 ] A healthy agricultural system should be able to produce within itself exactly what it needs. We will see why this is a natural state of affairs. As long as one does not view things in terms of their essence and reality, but only in terms of their outward, material form, the question may quite legitimately arise: Does it really make any difference whether one uses cow manure from the neighborhood or from one’s own farm? — As I said, things cannot be carried out so strictly in this way, but one must still have a concept of the necessary self-sufficiency of agriculture if one truly wants to organize matters properly.

[ 4 ] You will see that this assertion I have just made has some merit if you consider, on the one hand, the side of the Earth from which our agriculture springs, and, on the other hand, what influences this Earth from outside it. Today, people generally speak in rather abstract terms about the forces that act upon the Earth from outside it. People are, of course, aware that sunlight and solar heat—and everything meteorologically associated with solar heat and sunlight—have a certain connection to the specific condition of the soil covered with crops. But today’s perspective cannot provide any real insight into how things actually are, because it does not penetrate the realities, the facts.

[ 5 ] Let us start today—though we will also have to consider things from other perspectives—by focusing first on the fact that the soil forms the foundation of agriculture. This soil—I’ll indicate it schematically here with this line—is usually regarded as something purely mineral; at most, through the formation of humus or the incorporation of fertilizer, something organic enters it, so that the soil as such not only possesses a certain life within itself [. That it already contains something plant-like in itself and that there is even something astral at work in the soil[—]that is something which today is not even considered, much less acknowledged in any way. And if one then goes even further and observes how this inner life of the soil, in a subtle—I would say—dosage, is quite different in summer and winter, one arrives at areas that are indeed of immense practical significance but are simply not taken into account today. When starting from the observation of the soil, one must certainly direct one’s attention to the fact that the soil is a kind of organ within the organism that manifests itself everywhere in natural growth, wherever such natural growth occurs.

[ 6 ] The earth is a real organ; it is an organ that we can, if we wish, compare to the human diaphragm. And we get a clear picture of what is actually going on there—this is not entirely accurate, but it is meant only to illustrate the point and serves that purpose well— we arrive at a conception when we say to ourselves: Above the diaphragm in humans are certain organs, above all the head and the system that supplies it through respiration and circulation, and below the diaphragm are other organs. If we now compare, so to speak, the earth’s surface with the human diaphragm from this point of view, we must say: The head is then below the earth’s surface for the individuality in question, and we live together with all the animals in the belly of this individuality. What lies above the earth is actually precisely what belongs to the viscera of—to use a term—the agricultural individuality. On a farm, we are actually walking around in the belly of agriculture, and the plants grow up into the belly of agriculture. So we are definitely dealing with an individuality that stands on its head, and we can only view it correctly if we regard it as standing on its head—including in relation to human beings. As for animals, we will see in the course of these lectures that this is somewhat [different]. Now, why do I say that the agricultural individuality stands on its head?

[ 7 ] I say this because everything that is in the immediate vicinity of the Earth—the air, water vapor, and even the heat—where we are inside, where we ourselves breathe, where this comes from, and from which the plants, along with us, receive this external heat, external air, and even their external water—in fact corresponds to what in humans is the abdominal organs. In contrast, everything that happens inside the Earth, beneath the Earth’s surface, affects the entire growth of plants in the same way that our head affects our organism—particularly in childhood, but also throughout our entire lives. We have a continuous, very lively interplay between what is above the earth and what is below the earth, and the forces acting above the earth depend—consider this first as a localization of these forces—directly on the Moon, Mercury, and Venus, which support and modify the Sun’s effects; thus, the so-called inner planets exert their influence in relation to everything above the Earth, whereas the outer planets, which orbit beyond the Sun’s sphere, act upon everything below the Earth and support the Sun in the effects it exerts from below the Earth. Thus, with regard to plant growth, we must, so to speak, look to the distant heavens for their effects beneath the earth and to the nearer earthly surroundings for their effects above the earth.

[ 8 ] Everything, then, that acts upon plant growth from the vastness of the cosmos does not act directly, nor does it act through direct radiation; rather, it acts by first being absorbed by the earth and then radiated back upward from the earth. So whatever comes from below—from the soil—that has beneficial or harmful effects on plant growth is actually the cosmic force that has been reflected back. What acts directly—the immediate radiation in the air and water above the earth—is stored there and exerts its influence from that location. This is then connected to how the soil, in its inner constitution, so to speak, initially affects plant growth. We must then extend this consideration to animals as well.

[ 9 ] If we consider the earth’s surface, we find in it, first of all, all that which still acts as a result of influences from the outermost reaches of the cosmos that are relevant to the earth’s functioning. This is what is commonly called sand and rock. Sand and rock—which are impermeable to water, and which, as people say in everyday life, contain no nutrients whatsoever—are nonetheless no less important than other factors that come into play for the development of growth; this depends entirely on the effects of the most distant cosmic forces. And, as we see, it is primarily through the medium of siliceous sand—as improbable as it may seem at first—that what we can refer to as the life-etheric and the chemically active elements of the soil enter the earth and then exert their influence through reflection. How the soil itself becomes internally alive, how the soil exerts its own chemical activity—this depends entirely on the nature of the sandy component of that soil. And what the roots of plants experience in the soil depends to a not insignificant extent precisely on the extent to which cosmic life and cosmic chemistry are absorbed indirectly through the rock—which may therefore well be present at certain depths within the earth. Therefore, whenever there is an opportunity to study plant growth, one must be fully aware of the geological foundation upon which plant growth is established, and under no circumstances should one overlook the fact that, for plants whose [root growth] is being observed, a siliceous soil—even if only at depth—is essentially indispensable.

[ 10 ] Well, one might say—thank goodness—silica in the form of silicic acid and other silica compounds makes up 47 to 48 percent of the Earth’s composition, and one can count on the effects of silica almost anywhere for the quantities needed. But the point is also that what is connected in this way to the root system through the silica can also be conducted upward through the plant. It must, after all, flow upward; there must be a continuous interaction between what is drawn in from the cosmos through the silica and what takes place above—if you’ll pardon the expression—in the “belly,” and with what must be supplied to the “head” below. [For: Although the head must be supplied from the cosmos, this must be in genuine interaction with what takes place above the earth’s surface, in the belly.] What is received from the cosmos from below must always be able to flow upward. And to enable this upward flow, there is the clay element in the soil. Everything clay-like is, in fact, the medium through which the effects of cosmic entities are conveyed in the earth from below to above.

[ 11 ] This will give us, when we move on to practical matters, a guide on how to deal with clayey or silty soil, depending on whether we need to cultivate the clayey or silty soil with one type of plant or the other. But first, one must understand what is actually happening there. How clay is otherwise described, or how it must be worked to make it viable at all—all of that is certainly of secondary importance, though it plays an exceptionally significant role. But what one must know first is that it is the conduit for the cosmic upward current,

[ 12 ] Now, however, not only must this upward flow of the cosmic be present, but there must also be—and I will call the other the terrestrial, the earthly— it must also be that which, in the womb, so to speak, undergoes a kind of external digestion—and everything that takes place in the air above the earth’s surface throughout summer and winter is, in fact, a kind of digestion for plant growth—everything that occurs in this way through a kind of digestion must in turn be drawn into the earth, so that a genuine interaction actually arises. That which is generated by the water and air above the earth—in the form of forces as well as fine, homeopathically prepared substances—is now drawn into the soil through the soil’s greater or lesser lime content. The lime content of the soil and the dispersion of lime substances in homeopathic doses immediately above the soil—all of this serves to return the immediate terrestrial elements to the soil.

[ 13 ] You see, once we have a true science of these things—rather than just the scientific drivel of today—they will look entirely different. We will be able to provide precise details about them. We will then also know, for example, that there is a vast, enormous difference between the heat above the earth’s surface—that is, the heat associated with the Sun, Venus, Mercury, and the Moon—and the heat that manifests itself within the earth’s surface, which is thus under the influence of Jupiter, Saturn, and Mars. These two types of heat—one of which we can describe as the “flower and leaf heat” for plants, and the other as the “root heat” for plants—are entirely distinct from one another, so much so that we can quite rightly call the heat above the earth “dead” and the heat beneath the earth “living.” The heat beneath the earth possesses something—most of all in winter—that is an inner life principle, something living. If we humans were to experience the very same heat that acts within the earth, we would all become incredibly stupid, because in order to be intelligent, we must have drawn dead heat into our bodies. But the moment the heat is drawn into the earth by the soil’s lime content, the moment it is drawn in by the earth’s other substances, the moment external heat transforms into internal heat—the heat transitions into a certain state of quiet vitality. We know today that there is a difference between the air above the earth and the air below the earth. But we do not take into account that there is already a difference between the heat above the earth and the heat below the earth. We know that the air below the earth contains more carbon dioxide, while the air above the earth contains more oxygen. But we do not know, however, what the reason for this is. The reason is that the air, in turn, is permeated by a subtle current of vitality when it is absorbed and drawn into the earth. So it is with heat and air. They acquire a subtle current of vitality when they are taken into the earth.

[ 14 ] The situation is different with water and with the earthy, solid substances themselves. They become even more lifeless within the earth than they are on the outside—more dead. They lose some of their outer life, but precisely because of this, they become capable of being exposed to the most distant cosmic forces. And the mineral substances must emancipate themselves from that which is immediately above the earth’s surface if they are to be exposed to the most distant cosmic forces. In our present world age, they can most easily emancipate themselves from their proximity to the earth and enter the influence of the most distant cosmic forces within the earth—one might say, during the period between January 15 and February 15, that is, during this winter season. These are precisely the kinds of details that will one day be recognized as exact data. And this is the time when the greatest crystallizing power, the greatest formative power, can develop within the Earth for the mineral substances. This occurs in the middle of winter. At that time, the interior of the Earth is uniquely least dependent on itself in its mineral masses and comes under the influence of the crystal-forming forces that exist in the vastness of the cosmos.

[ 15 ] Now consider this: As January draws to a close, the Earth’s mineral substances have the greatest longing to crystallize, and the deeper one goes, the stronger this longing becomes—to become crystalline and pure within the order of nature. For plant growth, what happens to the minerals at that time is the most neutral. That is when the plants are most fully immersed in the earth and least exposed to the mineral substances; in contrast, for a time before and after—when, so to speak, the minerals are preparing—especially beforehand—to transition into the formed, crystalline state—they are of particular importance for plant growth. That is when they radiate the forces that are particularly important for plant growth. So we can say: Around November through December, there is a time when what happens beneath the earth’s surface becomes particularly effective for plant growth. This then raises the question: How can we truly make use of this for plant growth? For we shall one day see how the utilization of such things is particularly important for directing plant growth.

[ 16 ] I would like to note right here that if we are dealing with soil that does not naturally carry upward what is meant to rise during this winter season, it is good to add some clay to this soil in an appropriate amount, which I will specify later. This prepares the soil to carry upward—that crystalline force already visible when one simply looks at the crystallizing snow—but this crystallizing force becomes more intense and stronger the deeper one goes into the earth’s interior—that which has not yet reached its end—which will not happen until January, February—this force, which is initially in the earth, must now be carried up through the earth so that it can be utilized in plant growth.

[ 17 ] You see, in this way, even the most seemingly remote insights yield the most positive clues, which provide radical help, whereas otherwise one would be limited to mere trial and error. We must be clear from the outset that the agricultural realm, together with what lies beneath the earth’s surface, certainly represents an individuality that endures over time, and that the life of the earth is particularly strong during the winter, whereas in the summer it, in a certain sense, dies away.

[ 18 ] Now, it is a matter of understanding something of the utmost importance, particularly with regard to the cultivation of the soil. You see, this most important thing—which I have often mentioned among anthroposophists—consists in knowing under what conditions the cosmic space, with its forces, can act upon the earthly realm. To understand this, let us take seed formation as our starting point. The seed from which the embryo develops is usually regarded as an extraordinarily complex molecular structure. And great importance is attached to understanding this seed formation in terms of its complex molecular structure. People say to themselves: Molecules have a certain structure; simple molecules have a simple structure; then it becomes increasingly complex until one arrives at the immensely complex structure of the protein molecule. One now stands in awe and amazement before what one conceives as the complex structure of the protein in the seed, because one thinks as follows:

[ 19 ] One might think that if there is a protein molecule, it must be incredibly complex. After all, the next organism grows out of this complexity. And this next organism is incredibly complex—it was already predetermined in the embryonic germ—so this microscopic or hypermicroscopic substance must also be structured in an incredibly complex way. To a certain extent, this is indeed the case at first. As the earthly protein builds itself up, its molecular structure is also driven to the highest degree of complexity. But a new organism would never emerge from this highest level of complexity—never.

[ 20 ] For the organism does not emerge from the seed in such a way that what has formed as a seed is merely a continuation of the mother plant or mother animal in what arises as a young plant or young animal. That is simply not true. Rather, it is true that when this complexity of structure is driven to its highest degree, it disintegrates, and ultimately, what was driven to the greatest complexity in the earthly realm becomes a state of minor chaos. It disintegrates, one might say, into the dust of the worlds, and when that which disintegrates into the dust of the worlds—when the seed, having been brought to the highest degree of complexity, has disintegrated into the dust of the worlds and that small chaos is present—then the entire surrounding universe begins to act upon the seed, imprints itself upon it, and builds up from that small chaos whatever can be formed within it through the influences of the universe from all sides. And we obtain in the seed a reflection of the universe. Each time, the earthly process of organization is brought to completion in seed formation, right down to chaos. Each time, the new organism builds itself up within the chaos of the seed from the entire universe. The old organism merely tends to bring the seed into that particular cosmic condition—through its affinity for that condition—so that forces act from the correct directions, and so that a dandelion does not become a barberry, but rather another dandelion.

[ 21 ] However, what is reflected in the individual plant is always the image of some cosmic constellation; it is built up from the cosmos. If we want to bring the forces of the cosmos into play within our earthly realm at all, then it is necessary that we drive the earthly realm as far into chaos as possible. Wherever we seek to bring the forces of the cosmos into play, we must drive the earthly realm into chaos as much as possible. In a certain sense, nature itself already takes care of this for plant growth. But it is certainly necessary that—since every new organism is built up from the cosmos—we preserve this cosmic element within the organism until seed formation occurs again.

[ 22 ] Let’s say we plant a seed of any plant in the earth; in that seed we have the imprint, the manifestation of the entire cosmos from a particular direction in the world. The constellation exerts its influence there, and through it the seed takes on its specific form. And the moment it is planted in the earth, the earth’s external forces exert a very strong influence on it, and at that moment it is filled with a longing to deny the cosmic, to proliferate, to grow in every possible direction, for that which acts above the earth does not actually want to hold on to this form. There is a necessity here in the face of this drive toward chaos—we must drive the seed all the way to chaos—to introduce into the plant, as the first plant embryo develops from the seed and the subsequent shoots emerge, the earthly element, as opposed to the cosmic element that lives in the seed as the plant’s form. We must bring the plant closer to the earth in its growth. But this can only happen by truly bringing the life that already exists on Earth—life that has not yet entered into complete chaos, that has not progressed as far as seed formation but has instead ceased in the plant’s organization before seed formation occurred—into the life of the plant. And here again, in regions particularly blessed by fortune, the rich formation of humus in nature’s balance greatly benefits humankind. For, fundamentally speaking, what the earth can provide in terms of fertility through natural humus formation, humankind can achieve only imperfectly through artificial means.

[ 23 ] But what is the basis for this humus formation? It is based on the fact that what comes from plant life is absorbed by the natural process. That which has not yet reached the state of chaos reflects, in a certain way, the cosmic. When this is incorporated into plant growth, we essentially retain the truly earthly element within the plant, and the cosmic force acts only in the current that then rises again to seed formation. In contrast, the earthly element is at work in the unfolding of leaves and flowers and so on. The cosmic force merely radiates its effects into all of this. One can actually trace this quite precisely.

[ 24 ] Suppose you have a plant that grows upward from its root. At the tip of the stem, a seed forms. Leaves and flowers spread out. Now you see: In the leaf and the flower, what is earthly is the form—which is also a filling with earthly matter—so that the reason a leaf or a grain develops thickness, absorbs the inner substances, and so on, lies in what we impart to the plant as the earthly element, which has not yet reached the state of chaos. In contrast, the seed, which develops its entire power through the stem—but in a vertical direction, not in a circular one—radiates through the plant’s leaves and flowers with the power of the cosmos. This can be seen immediately.

[ 25 ] For look at the green leaves of plants. In their shape, their thickness, and their green color, the green leaves of plants embody something earthly. But they would not be green if the cosmic power of the Sun did not also live within them. When you look at a colored flower, it is not only the cosmic power of the sun that lives within it, but also the support that the cosmic powers of the sun receive from the distant planets Mars, Jupiter, and Saturn. Only when you view plant growth in this light—when you look at a rose, for example—do you see the power of Mars in its red color. Consider the yellow sunflower: It is not entirely correctly called a sunflower; it is named that only because of its shape. Because of its yellowness, it should actually be called a Jupiter flower, for the power of Jupiter, which supports the cosmic power of the sun, brings forth the white and yellow colors in the flowers. 'When we approach a chicory plant, with its bluish color, we must [see] in this bluish color the influence of Saturn, which supports the influence of the Sun. So we have the opportunity to see Mars in the red flower. We have the opportunity to see Jupiter in the white and yellow flowers, and we see Saturn in the blue flower, and in the green leaf we see the Sun itself.

[ 26 ] But what appears in the flower’s color acts as a force that is particularly strong in the root. For what lives and works in the distant planets is active once again within the soil itself. It is certainly true that we must say to ourselves: If we pull a plant out of the earth—with the root still attached—then the cosmic element is in the root, while the flower contains mostly the earthly element; the cosmic element is present only in the finest nuances of color.

[ 27 ] On the other hand, if the earthly is to live in the root—if the earthly is to live strongly in the root—then it shoots forth into form. For the [root] derives its form from that which can arise in the earthly realm. That which gives rise to the form is earthly. When [therefore] the root divides, branches out as a root, and develops, it acts in the same way that, in color, the cosmic acts upward and the earthly acts downward. Thus, we have precisely cosmic roots in those roots that are uniformly formed. In contrast, in the branched roots we have an inward action of the earthly into the soil, just as we have, in the realm of color, an upward action of the cosmic into the flowers, with the solar force standing right in the middle. The solar force acts primarily in the green leaf, and it acts in the interplay between flower and root, along with everything in between. The solar aspect, then, is actually what is assigned to the soil itself as this “diaphragm,” while the cosmic aspect is assigned to the interior of the earth and acts upward into the upper part of the plant. The earthly aspect, however, above the soil also acts downward and is drawn down into the plant with the help of the calcareous element. Therefore, look at the plants in which the earthly element is strongly drawn down into the root by the calcareous element: These are plants whose roots branch out in all directions—such as good forage herbs, not beets—such as sainfoin; so that we can say: one must look at the form of the plant if one wants to understand it—at the form and the color of the plant’s flowers—to see to what extent the cosmic and the earthly are at work within them.

[ 28 ] Now suppose, for some reason, that the cosmic element is held back—strongly restrained—within the plant; then it will not reveal itself very much, will not burst into bloom, but will instead express itself through something stem-like. Yes, where, according to the information provided, does the cosmic force live within the plant? It lives in the siliceous substance. Now take a look at the Equisetum plant: It has the peculiarity of drawing the cosmic force to itself and intermingling with the siliceous substance. After all, it contains ninety percent silicic acid. In this horsetail plant, the cosmic is present, so to speak, in an immense excess, but in such a way that it does not reveal itself in the flower; rather, it comes to the fore precisely in the lower growth.

[ 29 ] Let’s take something else. Let’s suppose we want to hold back that which seeks to rise—that which wants to move up through the stem into the leaf—at the root level of a plant. Isn’t it true that, in our present-day earthly era, this is no longer such a major consideration, because we have already established the plant genera through various conditions? In earlier times, in primeval times, it was different—back when one could still easily transform one plant into another. Back then, this was a very important consideration. Today, it’s still a factor because we have to seek out the conditions that are favorable for a particular plant.

[ 30 ] What, then, must we observe today? How must we look at a plant in which we want the cosmic force not to shoot all the way up into the flower and fruit, but to remain below—so that, in a sense, the formation of the stem and leaves is held back by the root system? What must we do in that case? We must plant such a plant in sandy soil. For in gravelly soil, the cosmic force is held back, virtually captured. Therefore, with the potato—where we must ensure that we hold back flower formation within the potato itself, that we restrain it—because the potato is a rootstock, the force that forms the blue and stem parts is held within the potato itself; the potato is not the root, but [a retained leaf formation]—one must plant the potato in sandy soil; otherwise, we will not achieve the retention of the cosmic force within it.

[ 31 ] Well, it follows from all of this that, so to speak, the ABC of assessing plant growth as a whole is to always [ask]: What is cosmic in a plant, and what is terrestrial, earthly? How can one, through the soil’s specific composition, make it more conducive to—I would say—intensifying the cosmic element and thereby preserving it more fully [in] the root and [in] the leaf? How can one make it more subtle, so that in its subtlety it is drawn upward into the flowers, coloring them, or into the fruit, imbuing it with a delicate flavor? For when you have apricots or plums with a delicate flavor, that delicate flavor—just like the color of the blossoms—is the cosmic element that has risen up into the fruit. In an apple, you are actually eating Jupiter; in a plum, you are actually eating Saturn.

[ 32 ] And if humanity, with its current knowledge, were faced with the necessity of producing the diversity of our fruit varieties from the few, albeit varied, plants of Earth’s primeval era, it would not get very far, were it not for the fact that the forms of our fruit varieties had already been inherited and produced at a time when, thanks to an instinctive primordial wisdom within humanity, people still knew something about producing fruit varieties from the primitive varieties that existed then. If we did not already have these fruit varieties and had not continuously propagated them through heredity, today—if we were to find ourselves in the same situation [in which humanity once was] with our present level of intelligence and were to attempt to recreate that process—we would not be able to achieve much in terms of producing fruit varieties. For we do everything by trial and error; we do not approach the process rationally. But this is precisely the fundamental condition that must once again be met if we are to continue to sustain life on Earth at all.

[ 33 ] What our friend Stegemann said was exceptionally apt: namely, that we must acknowledge a decline in the quality of products. This decline in quality is in fact—whether you take offense at my remark or not—just as closely connected to the transformation of human soul development as it is to the unfolding of the Kali Yuga in the universe as a whole, both in recent decades and in the decades to come. We are also facing a great transformation within nature itself. What has come down to us from ancient times—whatever we have passed on, whether in terms of natural dispositions, inherited knowledge, and the like, or the remedies we have inherited—is losing its significance. We must once again acquire new knowledge in order to understand the broader natural context of such things. Humanity has no choice but either to learn anew in various fields from the broader natural context—from the context of the universe—or to allow nature, just like human life, to wither away and degenerate. Just as in ancient times it was necessary to possess knowledge that truly penetrated the fabric of nature, so too do we today need knowledge that truly penetrates the fabric of nature.

[ 34 ] Today, people have a rudimentary understanding of how air—as I have already mentioned—behaves inside the Earth, but they know almost nothing about how light behaves inside the Earth. We do not know that it is precisely the cosmic rock—the siliceous material—that absorbs light into the Earth and brings it into effect there, whereas that which is closely related to earthly life—humus formation—does not absorb light, does not bring it into effect within the Earth, and therefore produces a process devoid of light. But these are things that must be known and understood.

[ 35 ] But what exists on Earth as plant growth is not the whole story; a specific region of the Earth also includes a specific animal life. We can set aside the human aspect for reasons that will become clear later. But we cannot disregard the animal realm; for there is a peculiarity in that the best—if I may put it that way—[cosmic-quantitative] analysis takes place in the coexistence of a certain area covered with plants and the animals that live in that area. There is this peculiar feature—and I would be glad if these things were simply verified, because verification would surely confirm it— there is a relationship such that, if one has the right number of cows, horses, and other animals on any farm, these animals together produce exactly as much manure as is needed for the farm—as is needed to add something to what has become chaos. Specifically, if one has the right number of horses, cows, and pigs, then the mixture ratio in the manure is also just right. This is connected to the fact that the animals consume and eat the right amount of what comes to them from plant growth, because they eat the right amount of what the earth can yield in terms of plants. For this reason, they also produce, in the course of their organic processes, just as much manure as is necessary to be returned to the earth. In fact, the principle applies here—though it cannot be fully implemented, it is correct in an ideal sense—that if one is compelled to obtain manure from an external source, one should use and treat it only as a remedy for an already ailing agricultural system. It is healthy only to the extent that it provides its own manure through its livestock. This naturally requires developing a proper science to determine how many animals of a certain species are needed in a specific agricultural system.

[ 36 ] But that will become clear as soon as there is any knowledge at all of the inner forces at work there. For, of course, what we have mentioned about the “abdominal being” above the earth’s surface and the “head being” below the earth’s surface also includes an understanding of the animal organism. The animal organism, after all, lives within the entire context of the natural order. Thus, with regard to its form and color, as well as the structure and consistency of its substance, it exhibits the effects of Saturn, Jupiter, and Mars from front to back—that is, from the snout toward the heart—the effect of the Sun in the heart, and behind the heart, toward the tail, the effects of Venus, Mercury, and the Moon. In this regard, those who are interested in these matters should, in the future, truly develop their understanding based on the observation of form.

[ 37 ] For this development of insight based on form—on the perception of form—is of immense significance. Go to a museum and look at the skeleton of any mammal, and approach it with the awareness that the shape of the head is primarily influenced by the sun’s rays as they stream into the mouth—the direct, radiant effect of the sun; and depending on the underlying factors—as we will also discuss here—how the animal exposes itself to the sun in one way or another—a lion exposes itself differently than a horse—the head is shaped accordingly, as is the part immediately adjoining it. Thus, at the front of the animal, we are dealing with direct sunlight and, consequently, the formation of the head.

[ 38 ] Now consider that sunlight enters the Earth’s orbit in yet another way: by being reflected off the Moon. And we are not dealing merely with sunlight, but with sunlight reflected off the Moon. This sunlight reflected by the Moon is completely ineffective when it shines on the head of an animal. It has no effect there. These things apply specifically to embryonic life. But the light reflected by the Moon exerts its greatest effect when it falls on the rear part of the animal. And look at the formation of the skeleton in the hind part, in its peculiar relationship to the formation of the head. Develop a sense of form for this contrast—for the way the thighs attach there, for how the digestive tract is shaped there—in contrast to what is formed at the head as its exact opposite. Then, in the front and rear of the animal, you have the contrast between the sun and the moon. And if you go further, you will find that the sun’s influence extends as far as the heart but stops short of it; that Mars, Jupiter, and Saturn influence the formation of the head and blood, and that the influence of the Moon is then further supported from the heart onward by the influences of Mercury and Venus, so that when you position the animal, turn it, and raise it in such a way that its head is buried in the earth and its hindquarters are stretched upward, you then have the alignment that invisibly embodies the agricultural individuality.

[ 39 ] This gives you the opportunity to find, based on the animal’s physical form, a relationship between what the animal provides—manure, for example—and what the earth needs, whose plants the animal eats. For you must realize that, for example, the cosmic forces that come into play in a plant—which originate from within the Earth—are channeled upward. So if a plant is particularly rich in such cosmic forces and is eaten by an animal that, in turn, produces manure from its own organism based on that food, then this animal provides manure that is particularly well-suited to the soil where the plant grows.

[ 40 ] So you see, if one examines things from a formal perspective, one arrives at everything that is needed within this self-contained individuality that is agriculture. One must, however, include the animal level in this calculation.