The Rudolf Steiner Archive

In today's lecture, my task will be to contribute something to the understanding of what lies in the artistic impulses that carry the building idea of Dornach, in order to then develop this building idea in more detail in the next of these lectures. It will be necessary for me to say something about these artistic impulses, so to speak, because strong misunderstandings have spread about them.

The point is, and this is clear from what I said here eight days ago about the development of the Dornach building from our entire anthroposophical movement, that the Dornach building should in no way create something that could be called the carrying of abstract spirituality into what is actually artistic. The Dornach building should be created entirely by artistic forces. And this building should mark the beginning of a development towards this goal, so that what works in spiritual science as a spiritual being can also flow out, stream out into artistic forms, into artistic designs and so on. This is something that had to be fought for against certain tendencies that very easily run in the opposite direction, especially in such a movement as anthroposophy.

It is very easy for all kinds of mystifying elements to enter into such a movement. These elements push towards the abstract through a false mystification, and which actually – because the artistic element must express itself in the shaping and forming of the external – bypass this artistic element and strive towards the symbolic, towards the allegorical. They want to keep the spirit in its abstract form, so to speak, and see in the outwardly shaped and formed only a symbolic illustration of the spiritual.

This leads to a killing, a paralysis of everything truly artistic. In this direction, due to the penetration of false mysticism from the theosophical into the anthroposophical movement, one has had to experience all sorts of things. For example, a play like “Hamlet”, which is an artistic creation, was interpreted allegorically and mystically, so that one figure was understood as the spiritual self, the other as the astral body, and so on. There is endless allegorizing among those who would like to profess such a spiritual movement, and I once had to experience the following, for example: When I tried to discuss the well-known painting 'Melancholy' by Dürer in such a way that I traced everything that lives in this painting back to the chiaroscuro and showed how Dürer wanted to penetrate the secrets of the chiaroscuro, of the chiaroscuro, to contrast the light with the dark, the darkness with the light, in the most varied of ways, a voice was heard from the audience saying, “Yes, but can't we understand this picture on an even deeper level?” The deep interpretation was obviously sought in the fact that one wanted to extract from the artistically captured chiaroscuro an abstract-allegorical interpretation of what is depicted in the picture, which Dürer has already forbidden by placing the polyhedron in the picture to suggest how important it was to him to express the chiaroscuro variety that becomes visible when you compare differently directed surfaces, differently positioned surfaces of a polyhedron or the different surface layers of a sphere with any spreading light. That it is infinitely deeper to look into this working and weaving of light and darkness and to spread one's own spirit over this weaving of light and darkness, that for the one who feels artistically, it can be infinitely deeper than the abstract-intellectual allegorical interpretation of such images, such an interrupter had no understanding.

And so what is present in this building had to be seen as an initial, weak attempt, in many respects fought for in the face of those aspirations that strive towards allegory and symbolism. These can be seen sufficiently when one enters some particularly solemnly decorated rooms where Anthroposophical spiritual science is practised and sees that attempts are being made to begin with colours and all kinds of paintings and drawings, but that these attempts ultimately leads to nothing other than offending every artistic feeling by painting a hideous rose cross, when what matters is only the allegory of showing some symbolism in seven roses painted in a certain way on a cross. I must mention this so that, if anthroposophically oriented spiritual science is also to show its artistic fertility to the world, it is known that what is attempted artistically must not be confused with all the abominations that easily arise from symbolizing and allegorizing, especially on such mystical ground as I have indicated.

It is absolutely essential that the true spiritual scientist should realize through direct insight what the essence of the ideal consists in, so that he can find the transition from the ideal to what must be expressed in prose words, even though these prose words are only an inadequate means of revelation for the rich revelation of the spiritual world itself, and that this necessary prose presentation, which must also take on certain forms if it is to do justice to the spiritual world, is sharply contrasted with the actual artistic presentation, including that of the supersensible vision, which has nothing of symbolizing or allegorizing in it.

That is why I had to point out in the lecture I gave to you on declamation and recitation that it is nonsense to fantasize and allegorize all sorts of things into my mystery dramas that are actually anthroposophical theory. The point of the dramas is to be understood artistically; and I myself, if I may make this personal comment, suffer the most unspeakable pain when someone presents me with abstract concepts that are supposed to “explain” these mystery dramas. These mystery dramas have been seen and experienced down to the last word, down to the tone of voice, as they stand, and the one who introduces allegorization does not understand them. He cannot really bring out the measure of super-sensibility that lies in them, for he only imprints the intellectual concepts into what should actually be experienced in the artistic sense. And so it is with everything else that is to arise artistically from those impulses from which spiritual science itself arises.

I would like to say it clearly, although it may sound a little pedantic: no art can of course arise from spiritual science itself, as it is communicated in words; only allegory and symbolization can arise from it. But from those spiritual impulses that stand behind spiritual science, that drive spiritual science itself out of themselves like a branch, from those, as another branch from the same origin, artistic creation also arises. Therefore, those who understand spiritual science in the abstract and then want to translate it into art will never be able to create anything other than straw-like allegories or lifeless symbols.

It has been said many times that symbols and allegories can be found in this building. If you look at the building properly, you won't be able to find a single symbol or allegory in it. Everything is meant to be – although some things have been left in initial attempts – in such a way that it has flowed into the form, the design, the color. And because misunderstandings can easily arise in this regard, I would like to discuss a few artistic matters with you today, so that, as I said, I can get to the actual building idea next time and characterize it in very specific terms.

I would like to assume that, when we once had to perform that scene from the second part of Goethe's “Faust” in the carpentry workshop, in which the Kabirs appear, I tried to create the three Kabirs plastically from the supersensible vision that arises when one tries to penetrate the mysteries of Samothrace. So I tried to visualize these Kabirs in order to be able to bring them on stage. Now these three Kabirs were there in three dimensions. Then a personage who was very close to our movement wanted to give some other people an idea of these Kabirs, who could not see them here, or who wanted to have a souvenir of the way in which the Kabirs were vividly reconstructed here, and the question arose as to whether these Kabir sculptures should be photographed.

For someone who has a feeling for sculpture, however, every photograph of a sculpture is a killing of the actual sculptural work of art. And so I decided to simply reproduce these Kabir statues in a drawing, in chiaroscuro, that is, using a different technique. So from the outset they were conceived two-dimensionally on the surface, and so it was possible to photograph them and disseminate them through photography. So you see: if you really stand on the soil of those life forces that pulsate in spiritual science, then above all you acquire a truly artistic feeling for the artistic means you use, and you acquire emotionally, not intellectually, what lives in existence.

Let me mention the following example, which leads us more into the intimacies of the artistic empathy of the world process, which we then try to shape. Let us assume that one wanted to create a kind of sculptural representation of humanity, as I attempted in my sculptural group, which includes a figure similar to Christ (Figs. 94-98). If you want to create a sculpture of this representative of humanity, you would be led to feel quite differently about what is present in the formation of the head than about what is present in the rest of the human being's form, which lives outside the head.

In sculpting, you feel what appears as a huge difference in the human being. In sculpting, where one is dealing with the shaping of surfaces, one feels that a formative impulse must be at work in the head, which, as it were, pushes inwards, draws away from the outside, but which shapes from within; and one feels that in the rest of the human being, one encounters that which is shaped in precisely the opposite sense. It is not so important to say that one thing happens from within and the other from without – that would lead to an abstract, intellectual description again – but rather it is important to have the opposite feelings when developing any form out of the depths of the world process develops some form that can only be shaped from the inside out, or when one takes out a form that can only be shaped from the outside in, in which one can see, as it were, how the external world forces concentrate and shape from the outside in.

If one continues in this feeling and sensing, then one comes to understand how, through having different feelings for the head than for the rest of the organism, one experiences something as a sculptor that is neither gravity nor vertically acting buoyancy nor even spreading force. Pure spreading force is what we feel in the light. Gravity alone is what we feel in our own weight and experience in particular in the aging of the human being, if one can take a look at this aging in true introspection. Of these two forces, gravity and buoyancy, one senses a kind of interaction in such a way that, I would say, the buoyancy forces, those forces that tear the plastic away from the earthly, can be felt more in the head, and the forces that work upwards from the earth's gravity and, as it were, drive the body upwards, these are felt more in the shaping, in the plastic formation of the rest of the body.

But, my dear attendees, when one has really felt this, and – especially when one has metamorphosed this feeling into artistic creation – when one really lives not in an abstract idea, but in this feeling and endeavors to bring into the material that which one feels there, then one feels a strong difference... [gap in the shorthand]. For example, in sculpture there is something to be sensed, such as the balance of two forces, of which the sculptor himself need know nothing. Even someone who knows about such forces as spreading force, gravity and buoyancy force, completely forgets it in sculpting; it is none of his business there, he lives purely in feeling the spreading of the forces of the surface, in feeling how the surface expands in space, or in shaping the surface itself. If you have not appropriated anything abstractly conceptual – that is, if you can completely shed the cloak of the ideal when you immerse yourself in artistic creation – then, in a sense, you become a different person emotionally when you immerse yourself in artistic creation; then you also acquire a feeling for the diversity of artistic means of expression.

And when one moves from working with sculpture to working with painting, one comes to say to oneself: All that one has to say about sculpture in terms of the way in which forces acting vertically and in the direction of propagation interact, of heavy elements and light elements, all that one has to have put aside when dealing with color and its nuances in painting. Because there it is about creating not out of the line, not out of the form, but out of the color, so that one completely stops feeling differently towards the head than towards the rest of the organism, as the sculptor does. In painting, one feels that difference disappear that arose for the sculptor between the head and what is not the head in a human being. This completely balances out and becomes something completely different, an inner intensity that cannot be represented by a contrast of lines, but can only be represented by penetrating into the intensity of the color nuances, so that it is not possible to go into detail, for example, on what still stands out very strongly in sculpture.

And if you want to overcome it, you can only do so if you push the sculpture to a certain degree of consciousness, as I did with my central group for this building. But if you move on to painting, it is a matter of thoroughly rejecting any thinking in lines and moving on to the feeling that creates purely from color. And however strange it may seem to someone who speaks of a spiritualization of art in a falsely abstract sense, it must still be said: for someone who thinks in terms of painting, the most important thing is that there is a certain color nuance at a certain point on a certain surface and that, when one moves from this color nuance to another point on the surface, other color nuances are there. It is about creating from color.

In this creative process, however, the artist is supported by what I would call the experience of color, the experience of blue, the experience of yellow, the experience of red. What the artist has, in experiencing yellow and red as if they were attacking him, and experiencing blue as if he had to chase after it with his soul, as if he had to expand himself, is what transforms into creativity within him and what then gives him the opportunity to transform the sensation into what is to become a work of art. If, for example, one is faced with the task of painting any surface, then it is a matter of nuancing between so-called light, warm colors and dark, cold colors. If one has the color experience, one can create out of this color experience, just as the musician creates out of the sound experience. Then it is a matter of the form arising out of the color itself, so that one does not draw and then smear color into the spaces created by the drawing spaces that arise through drawing, smearing the color in, but rather it is a matter of starting from the color experience and allowing the line experience, the form, to arise from the color experience. That is why I said at one point in the first of my mystery dramas - that is, I had a character say it, to whom I put it in the mouth - that the form must be “the color's work”.

Fundamentally, we must be aware that all drawing and all thinking in drawing is actually a lie compared to painting. For example, when I see the blue sky, with the sea-green of the surface of the sea below, I have the blue of the sky above, the green of the sea below, and the line of the horizon simply arises from seeing, from the experience of color. And I am actually lying when I draw a horizon line that is not actually there (Fig. 114). This must now be thoroughly examined, otherwise one will not be able to enter into that world, which can be experienced through all the means of artistic expression, through the colors and their nuances, as well as through the concepts and ideas, if these concepts and ideas are really rooted in the spiritual and are not abstracted from ordinary human consciousness.

You see, here it is not so much a matter of expressing spiritual science in all kinds of forms, but rather of gaining impulses for artistic observation, which are just as necessary in the course of human development as spiritual science itself. But they are required as something special. It is the case that on the one hand there is the spiritual-scientific stream and on the other hand there is the artistic stream, which in a certain way must now also take on new forms. Therefore, I say to everyone who stands before this group, which is to become the central group here: One can feel something in the central figure like the Christ-figure, but it must be felt, it must not be thought that the name Christ is there. It will certainly not be written on the outside, but it does not even have to be thought, rather, the intuitive experience must take place within us, which draws our attention to how we must look at the matter, so that we develop reverence, develop high regard, develop the intuitive perception of the depths of the human being. So there should be nothing but feeling, nothing but experiencing in feeling, the same feelings that we experience, for example, when we immerse ourselves spiritually in the figure of Christ. But everything we experience spiritually when we immerse ourselves in the figure of Christ through spiritual science must not be carried over into what is formed plastically or pictorially. What is formed plastically or pictorially must be born out of form, out of line, out of surface. And this life in form, in line, in surface, in color, in word itself, is what later develops such forms, such painting, as it is to appear here in this building before you.

What I have said now has little to do with the building itself, but only with the artistic attitude and artistic feeling that underlies the entire building idea of Dornach. It should always be borne in mind that it is at the beginning of the development of that architectural style, that artistic language of form, which can be expected to flourish in a special way in the future. Because I would not rebuild this building in the same way a second time. Not because I consider the artistic attitude on which it is based to be misguided – that is not the case – but because everything that is alive is also constantly evolving, so that a second time all those mistakes would be avoided and everything that could be said in terms of impulses for perfection could be taken into account. But I see all this myself and take it much more seriously than those who often call themselves critics of the building. I know the mistakes very well today and know what could be avoided if the building were to be rebuilt, and what could be brought into it if it were to be rebuilt. And it is necessary that all the details of the building idea from Dornach be taken up in this way.

To take one detail, I would like to mention the small dome (Fig. 57). Later, at the end of this hour, we will raise the curtain and you can then take a look at the small dome. Above all, I would like this small dome to be understood in such a way that nothing abstract is fantasized into it. For in this small dome, in which I myself am essentially involved – this is of course not to say anything special about the also in turn initial and in many respects perhaps amateurish in the painting of this small dome – an attempt has been made to paint really out of color, out of the color experience. In fact, this color experience should be understood in such a way that one sees, above all, the color nuance at a particular point. It could not be a matter of, for example, at a certain point where, let us say, the blue was to be emphasized, where the blue was experienced according to its position near the opening, further away from the center, contrasting with the color effects in the center, of thinking of a fist (Fig. 70) and paint it there because one feels a kinship of the nature of the fist with the blue color, but it could only be a matter of developing the color experience of the blue at this point and then letting the form, the shape, the essence arise out of the color. It had to become what it is there out of necessity.

From this you can see that it is not important to the person who originally gave rise to the idea of forming a figure out of the color experience of blue at this point, which then leads the feeling back to the sixteenth century, reminiscent of the Faust figure, but rather that it is important to him to give birth to form and essence out of the living color. And if, in the end, interpretations are attributed to the works, then one must be aware that these are interpretations from the outside, that they may help one or another subjectivity to experience this or that; but I myself prefer it if you completely forget, when facing this small dome, that there is something Faustian, something Apollonian ( Fig. 76) or of any doppelgänger (Fig. 84) and the like, and that you first surrender to the pure color experience from which the whole is born, and that you are initially just as indifferent to whether there is a Faust crouching there or some other figure, just as the person who wanted to create from the color was indifferent to whether this figure emerged. It just came out because the world lives in color.

But one must not take the starting point from the linear or symbolic boundaries of the being; rather, one must take the starting point from painting from the color experience, from moving in color, so that the color and especially the color harmonization and disharmonization come to life as such. One will then see that one narrows one's view of the world if one tries to translate the intellectually abstract world view — even one that arises as spiritual science — simply symbolically, allegorically into color or into form. Rather, one will see that when one immerses oneself in color, the whole richness of the life of color overflows one and that in this immersion in the world of color one has, that one still discovers a new world. While with every allegory you only bring the world you already have into the colorful world, if you start from the colored experience itself, you discover a new world that is as creative in itself as the world you have in mind when you summarize the external natural fact in abstractions or in natural laws.

In this description – because everything artistic, when it is discussed, must be described – I had to show you how an attempt has been made here in this building, not to secretly incorporate anything into the plastic forms, into the color nuances, but to experience the secrets of these worlds ourselves, which give us the means to express them artistically. And when one experiences the secrets of these worlds, then one gradually frees oneself from all straw-like allegorizing and straw-like symbolizing. In painting, for example, one learns to overcome the line, even in the representation of the copperplate engraving or the woodcut, and to allow form to arise purely out of the contrast between light and dark. It is out of such experiences, not out of abstract thought, that the building idea of Dornach has come into being, out of what can be experienced in colour, in form, in surface, what can be felt as that which strives upwards, freeing itself from burdens, as that which works downwards, bearing burdens, bringing them to life within itself.

All this is here in architecture, sculpture, painting, even in the window panes - the nature of which I will also discuss next time - felt, experienced, not thought; because all abstract thinking is the death of art. The life of art is born only out of form, out of color, out of the burdened, out of the carrying, out of the rounded, out of the angular – I now mean “rounded” and “angular” as a verb. And when one can live in the round, in the angular, in the burden, in the carrying, in the arching, in the covering and opening, in the plastically rounding, in the surface giving, in the expressing the interior in the exterior through the special surface treatment, when one can experience what arises like beings in the waves from the surface of the sea, when one experiences from the living colors, then the forms are formed in such a way that they are a creation of the color. Then there is truly no allegorization, no symbolization; then, alongside that world of abstraction or the merely non-sensuous spiritual, a completely new world arises, a world that Goethe called the sensuous-suprasensible world. This world is not, however, killed by the merely intellectual, and it is brought to life when one knows how to set the spirit within oneself in motion, not by going so far in the contemplation of the external that the sensual contemplation leads to the linking of thoughts, but in such a way that one sees the supersensible directly in the external, in the sensual. When the inner life, which in Expressionism always seeks to give rise to thought, is restrained to such an extent that it does not reach thought, but remains in the mere experience of the formative, of that which permeates the surface with the intensity of color and when the world is experienced in this way, as it can only be experienced in the element of sensation, not in the element of thought, then this experience can truly provide the stimulus for a new art.

In recent years, anthroposophical spiritual science has found an external center for its work in Dornach, near Basel. The creation of this center, called the Goetheanum, the School of Spiritual Science, was the result of the expansion of anthroposophical spiritual science. After many years of me and others spreading this spiritual science in the most diverse states and places, initially in an ideal form through lectures or similar, around 1909 or 1910 the inner necessity arose to bring to the souls of our fellow human beings what is meant by this spiritual science by means of other means of revelation and communication than those of mere thoughts and words. And so it came about that a series of mystery dramas were performed, initially in Munich. These were written by me and were intended to present in pictorial, scenic form the subject matter that anthroposophical spiritual science must speak of in its entirety.

We have been accustomed throughout the entire course of education in the civilized world over the last three to four centuries to seek knowledge primarily through external sensory observation and by applying the human intellect to this external sensory observation. And basically, all our newer sciences, insofar as they are still viable today, have come about through the effects of the results of sensory observation with intellectual work. After all, the historical sciences do not come about in any other way today either. Intellectualism is the one thing the modern world has confidence in when it comes to knowledge. Intellectualism is the one thing that people have become more and more accustomed to.

And so, of course, people have increasingly come to believe that all the results of knowledge that come before the world can be completely revealed through intellectual communication. Indeed, there are epistemological and other scientific disputes in which it is apparently proven that something can only be valid before the cognitive conscience of contemporary people if it can be justified intellectually. That which cannot be clothed in logical-ideational intellectual forms is not accepted as knowledge. Spiritual science, which really did not want to stop at what is rightly asserted in science as the limits of scientific knowledge, and which wants to penetrate beyond these limits of knowledge, had to become more and more aware that the intellectual way of communicating could not be the only way. For one can prove for a long time with all possible sham reasons that one must imprint all knowledge in intellectual form if it is to satisfy people; one can prove this for a long time

prove it and back it up with spurious reasons – if the world is such that it cannot be expressed in mere concepts or ideas, that it must be expressed through images, for example, if you want to know the laws of human development, then you have to get at something other than the presentation through the word in the theoretical lecture; you have to move on to other forms of presentation than the presentation in intellectual forms.

And so I felt the necessity to express that which is fully alive, namely in the development of humanity, not only in theory through the word, but also through the scenic image. And so my four mystery dramas came into being, which were initially performed in ordinary theaters. This was, so to speak, the first step towards a broader presentation of that which actually wants to reveal itself through this anthroposophical spiritual science, as it is meant here, through the cause of spiritual science itself.

Not in my own case – I may say that without hesitation – but in the case of friends of our cause, the idea arose in the course of this development, which made an external, theatrical presentation necessary, to prepare a place of our own for the work of this spiritual science. And after many attempts to found such a place here and there, we finally ended up on the Dornach hill near Basel, where we received a piece of land for this purpose from our friend Dr. Emil Grosheintz, and we were able to build this ach Hill, we were able to establish this School of Spiritual Science, which is also intended to be a house for presenting the other types of revelation of what is to come to light through this spiritual science; this School of Spiritual Science, which we call the “Goetheanum” today.

Now, if some association or other had set about creating such a framework, such a house, such an architecture, prompted by the circumstances, what would have happened? They would have turned to this or that architect, who might then, without feeling or sensing anything very intensely and without recognizing the content of our spiritual science, have erected a building in the antique or Gothic or Renaissance style or in some other style, and they would have handed down in such a building, which would have been built out of quite different cultural presuppositions, the content of spiritual science in the most diverse fields. This could well have happened with many other endeavors of the present time and would undoubtedly have happened. However, this could not happen with anthroposophically oriented spiritual science.

When we opened our first series of courses on a wide range of subjects at the School of Spiritual Science in Dornach last year, I was able to speak of how, through this anthroposophically oriented spiritual science, not only what is science in the narrower sense is to come before humanity, how this spiritual not only draws from the achievements of human sensory observation and the human intellect, but draws from the whole, from the fullness of humanity, and draws from the sources from which religion on the one hand and art on the other also emerge.

This spiritual science does not want to create an abstract, symbolic or a straw-like allegorical art, which merely forces the didactic into external forms. No, that is absolutely not the case. Rather, what is expressed through this spiritual science can work through the word, can shape itself through the word. Spiritual processes and spiritual beings in the supersensible world can be spoken of by resorting to ideas and the means of expressing ideas, to words. But that which stands behind it, which wants to reveal itself in this way, is much richer than what can enter into the word, into the idea, pushes into the form, into the image, becomes art by itself, real art, not an allegorical or symbolic expression. This is not what is meant when we speak of Dornach art.

When Dornach art is mentioned, it is first of all a reference to the original source from which human existence and world existence bubble forth. What one experiences in this original source, when one gains access to it in the way often described here, can be clothed in words, shaped into ideas, but it can also be allowed to flow directly into artistic expression, without expressing these ideas allegorically or symbolically. That which can live in art or, as I could expand on but need not today, in religion, is an entirely identical expression of that which can be given in an idealized representation. This anthroposophically oriented spiritual science is thus predisposed from the outset to flow as a stream from a source from which art and religion can also flow in their original form. What we mean in Dornach when we speak of religious feeling is not just a science made into a religion, but the source of elementary religious power, and what we mean by art is, in turn, also an elementary artistic creation.

Therefore, when some visitors to the Goetheanum or especially those who only hear about it defame our Dornach building and say that one finds this or that allegorical, symbolic representation there, it is simply defamation. There is not a single symbol in the entire Dornach building. Everything that is depicted has been incorporated into the artistic form, is directly sensed. And basically, I always feel somewhat as if I am merely presenting a surrogate when I am expected to explain the Dornach building in words. Of course, if one speaks outside of Dornach, one can make statements about it as one might speak about chapters of art history, for example. But when one sees the building in Dornach itself, I always feel that it is something surrogate-like, if one is also supposed to explain it. This explanation is actually only necessary to convey to people the special kind of language of world view, but the Dornach building has flowed out of it just as, let us say, the Sistine Madonna has flowed out of the Christian world view, without anything being symbolized, but only in such a way that the artist has truly lived in accordance with his feelings, his ideas.

Hamerling, the Austrian poet, was also reproached for using symbolism after he wrote his “Ahasver”. He then rightly replied to his critics: What else can one do when one portrays Nero quite vividly, as a fully-fledged human being, rather than as the symbol of cruelty! For history itself has portrayed Nero as a symbol of cruelty, and there is no mistake in giving the impression of the true, real symbol of cruelty when Nero is portrayed as a living being. At most, there could be an artistic defect in presenting some straw allegory instead of a living entity. Even if the world depicted in Dornach is the supersensible world, it is the supersensible reality that is portrayed. It is not something that seeks to symbolically or allegorically implement concepts. This is the underlying reality, and at the same time it indicates why a house could not be placed here in any old way for this anthroposophically oriented spiritual science. Any architectural style would have been something external to it, because it is not mere theory, it is life in all fields and was able to create its own architectural style.

Of course, one can perhaps draw a historical line retrospectively by characterizing the essence of ancient architecture in terms of its load-bearing and supporting function, then moving on to the Gothic period and showing how architecture there moves beyond mere load-bearing and supporting, and how the buttress is freed from mere load-bearing and supporting by the pointed arch and the cross-ribbed vault, how a kind of transition to the living is found. In Dornach, however, an attempt has been made to develop this life to such an extent that the pure dynamic, metric and symmetrical of earlier forms of building have been truly transferred into the organic.

I am well aware of how much can be written from the point of view of ancient architecture against this allowing of the geometric, metric, symmetrical forms to be transformed into organic forms, into forms that are otherwise found in organic beings. But nothing is naturalistically modeled on any organisms; rather, it is only an attempt to immerse oneself in the organically creative principle of nature. Just as one can become familiarized with the bearing and supporting when the columns are covered by the crossbeams, and with the entire configuration of the Gothic style in the buttresses, in the ribbed vaulting and so on, so one can also familiarize oneself with the inner forms, the forming of nature that is present in the creation of the organic. If one can find one's way into this, then one does not arrive at a naturalistic reproduction of this or that surface form found in the organic, but one arrives at finding surfaces from what one has directly represented architecturally, which are integrated into the whole structure in the same way that, say, the individual surface on a finger is integrated into the whole human organism.

This is therefore the basic feeling that can be gained from the Dornach building, to the extent that this has been achieved in the first attempt at this new architectural style. What has been striven for is perhaps best expressed as follows: In relation to the smallest detail, the greatest formal context is conceived in such a way that each thing is, at the place where it is situated, as it must be. You need only think, for example, of the earlobe on your own body. This earlobe is a very small organ. If you understand the whole organism, you will say to yourself: the earlobe could not be any different than it is; the earlobe cannot be a little toe, it cannot be a right thumb, but in the organism, everything is in its place, and everything in its place is as it emerges from this organism.

This has been attempted in Dornach. The entire structure, the entire architecture, is conceived as part of a whole, and each individual part is formed in its own place in such a way that it is exactly what is needed at that place. Although there are many objections that could be raised, the attempt has been made, as I said, to make the transition from mere geometric-mechanical construction to building in organic forms. As I said, this architectural style could be incorporated into other architectural styles, but that doesn't really get you anywhere. In particular, the creator doesn't get anywhere with it. Something like this simply has to arise from the naive, from the elementary. Therefore, when I am asked how the individual form is conceived from the whole, I can only give the following answer. I can only say: look at a nut, for example. The nut has a shell. This nut shell is formed according to the same laws around the nut, around the nut kernel, according to which the nut itself, the nut kernel has come into being, and you cannot imagine the shell differently than it is, once the nut kernel is as it is.

Now one knows spiritual science. One presents spiritual science out of its inner impulse. One forms it into ideas, one brings them together in ideas. So you live in the whole inner being of this spiritual science. Forgive me, it is a trivial comparison, but it is a comparison that illustrates how you have to create out of naivety if you want to create something like the building in Dornach: you stand inside it as if in the nut kernel and have within you the laws by which you have to execute the shell, the building.

I often used to make another comparison. You see, in Austria we have a special kind of cake called 'Gugelhupf'. I don't know if that expression is also used here. And I said that one should imagine that anthroposophical spiritual science is the Gugelhupf and the Dornach building is the Gugelhupf pan in which it is baked. The cake and the pan must harmonize with each other. It is right when both harmonize, that is, when they are according to the same laws as nut and nut shell.

Because Anthroposophical spiritual science creates out of the whole, out of the fullness of humanity, it could not have the discrepancy within itself of taking an arbitrary architectural style for its construction and speaking into it. It is more than mere theory; it is life. Therefore, it had to provide not only the core but also the shell in the individual forms. It had to be built according to the same innermost laws by which one speaks, by which mysteries are presented, by which eurythmy is now presented. Everything that is presented in words, that is seen performed in eurythmy, that is seen performed in mystery plays, that is otherwise presented, must resound and be seen throughout the hall in such a way that the walls with their forms, that the paintings that are there, say yes to it as a matter of course; that the eyes, so to speak, absorb them like something in which they directly participate. Each column should speak in the same way as the mouth speaks, proclaiming anthroposophically oriented spiritual science. Precisely because it is science, art and religion at the same time, anthroposophically oriented spiritual science had to establish its own architectural style, disregarding all conventional architectural styles. Of course, one can criticize this to no end; but everything that appears for the first time is imperfect at first, and I can perhaps assure you that I know all the mistakes best and that I am the one who says: if I were to rebuild the building a second time, it would be based on the same spirit, on the same laws, but it would be completely different in most details and perhaps even as a whole. But if anything is to be tackled, it must be tackled once, as well as one can at that particular moment. It is only by carrying out such a work that one really learns to know the actual laws of one's being. These are the laws of destiny of spiritual life and spiritual progress, and these have not been violated in the erection of the building at Dornach.

Now the building rises up on the Dornach hill (Fig. 1). Its basic forms had to be sensed first, emerging from the Dornach hill. That is why the lower part is a concrete structure (Fig. 4). I tried to create artistic forms out of this brittle material, and yet some have felt how these forms connect to the rock formations, how nature merges with the building forms with a certain matter-of-factness. Then, on the horizontal terrace, up to which the concrete structure extends, the wooden structure rises. This wooden structure consists of two interlocking cylinders, which are closed off by two incomplete hemispheres that are, as it were, interlocked in a circle, so that two hemispheres, two consecutive hemispheres, enclose the two cylindrical spaces as if they were placed one inside the other. A larger room, the auditorium, a smaller room, the one from which eurythmy is performed, mysteries are played and so on. Between the two rooms is the speaker's podium. This is initially the main building.

Of course, I must not fail to mention that in recent years numerous friends, particularly from this or that scientific field, have now found each other from almost all scientific fields, who have seen through and recognized how natural science, mathematics, history, medicine, jurisprudence, sociology, and the most diverse fields can be fertilized by anthroposophical spiritual science. So that a real Universitas must attach itself to Dornach, and for this the building, for which we have been able to provide for the time being, is nothing more than a large lecture hall, with the possibility of working in this lecture hall, which is intended for about a thousand people, in other ways than through the mere word.

That the building has this dualistic form, I would say, consisting of two cylinders crowned by hemispheres, can be sensed from the whole task that spiritual science, as we understand it in Dornach, must set itself. After all, this is based on what is called inner human development. One does not arrive at this anthroposophical spiritual science by merely using one's ordinary everyday power of judgment - although, of course, full reliance is placed on this - or by using the ordinary rules of research; but rather by

you must bring to the surface the powers slumbering in the soul, as described in my book “How to Know Higher Worlds”, and really ascend to that region where the supersensible powers and entities of existence reveal themselves to you. This revealing of the supersensible world to the sensory world, which expresses itself in the fact that the thousand listeners or spectators sit there and on the other side exactly that which gives knowledge of supersensible worlds is communicated, this whole thing, transformed into feeling, expresses itself in the double-dome building in Dornach. It is not meant to be symbolic in any way. That is why I can also say: Of course one could also express this thought differently, but that is how the artistic expression of this basic thought presented itself to me at the time when it was needed.

In a sense, by approaching it from the environment, in the external form of the wooden structure growing out of the concrete, which is a double dome, one sees in the configuration, in the design of the surfaces, what is actually meant by anthroposophically oriented spiritual science. The fact that they really tried not to calculate with abstract concepts, but with artistic perception, may become clear to you from the fact that - in the time when it was still possible before the war - Norwegian slate was obtained with all possible efforts to cover the two domes. Once, when I was on a lecture tour in 1913 between Christiania and Bergen, I saw the wonderful Voss slate. And this Voss slate now shines in the sunshine from the double domes, so that one actually has the feeling: this greenish-greyish shine of the sun, which reflects itself there, actually belongs in this whole landscape. It seemed to me that the care that had been taken to bring out the shine of the sun in the right way in such a landscape was something that showed that account had been taken to present something worthy in this place, which, as a place, as a locality, has something extraordinary about it.

I will now take the liberty of showing you a series of slides of what has been created as this Goetheanum in Dornach. They are intended to show in detail how what I have just explained, how the Dornach building idea has actually been realized. The Dornach building idea should present the same thing to the beholder in the outer spatial form in the picture, as it unfolds to the listener through the word, so that what one hears in Dornach is the same as what one sees in Dornach. But because it should really present a renewal out of spiritual life, a renewal of everything scientific, it also needed, in a sense, a new art.

Now the first picture (Fig. 4): You see here the building, the dome is somewhat covered here, here the concrete substructure. When one approaches via a path that leads from the northwest towards the west gate, one has this view. This is therefore the concrete substructure with the entrance; here one goes in first. Further back in this concrete building are the storage rooms. After you have taken your things off, you go up the stairs that lead through this room, to the left and right, and first come to a vestibule – which you can also enter from the terrace through the main gate – and from there to the auditorium. Here you see, starting from this terrace and going up, the wooden structure covered with Nordic slate (Fig. 10). You can see from the shape above the main entrance in the west that an attempt has been made to incorporate something here that really does look like an organic form growing out of the whole of the building. It is not some random thing found in the organic world, copied from nature, but an attempt to explore organic creation itself. The aim is to devote oneself to organic creation in nature in order to have the possibility of forming such organic forms oneself and to shape the whole into an organic form without violating the dynamic laws. I would like to emphasize: without violating the dynamic or mechanical laws.

Anyone who studies interior architecture with us in Dornach will see everywhere that, despite the fact that columns, pillars and so on are organically designed, it is precisely in this organic design that what is properly supported and properly weighted is expressed, without it being expressed in the thickness of the columns or in the heaviness of any load. The correct distribution of load and support is achieved without the aid of organic forms, so that one has the feeling, as it were, that The building feels both the load and the support at the same time. It is this transition to the appearance of consciousness, as it is in the organic, that had to be striven for in this building, out of the anthroposophical-spiritual-scientific will. So without in any way violating the mechanical, geometric, symmetrical laws of architecture, the form should be transformed into the organic.

The next picture (Fig. 5): Here you see the concrete structure from a slightly further point and more from the west front; here the terrace, then the main entrance. The same motif appears here. The second dome, the smaller one, which is for the stage, is covered here; on the other hand, you can see, as it were, what is adjacent to it. Where the two domed structures connect, there are transverse structures on the left and right with dressing rooms for the actors in mystery plays or eurythmy performances, or offices and the like. These are therefore ancillary buildings here. We will see in a moment in the floor plan how these ancillary buildings fit into the overall building concept.

The next picture (Fig. 7): Here you see the building from the southwest side: again the West Gate, the great dome, another tiny bit of the small dome, to the south the southern porch; here the whole front between west and south.

The next picture (Fig. 3): Here you see the two domed rooms, the auditorium, from the other side, from the northeast, one of the transverse buildings from the front, here the small domed room and here the storage rooms that adjoin the small domed room to the east; furthermore, the terrace, and below the concrete building. This is the porch that leads to the west gate, which you have just seen.

The next picture (Fig. 2): This is the strange building that is particularly heavily contested. This is what you see when you look at the building from the northeast side: you then see this heating and lighting house. It is also the case that one was obliged to form something out of the brittle concrete material, and that one said to oneself, out of artistic laws, out of artistic feelings: There I am given everything that is necessary as a lighting machinery, as a heating machinery: that is the nut kernel to me, around which I have to form the nutshell, to form the necessary for the smoke outlet. It is, if I may express myself in such a trivial way, this principle of the formation of the nutshell is fully implemented. And anyone who complains about something like that should consider what would be there if this experiment had not been carried out, which may still have been imperfectly successful today. There would be a red chimney here! A utilitarian building should be created in such a way that one first acquires the necessary sense of material and then finds the framing from the determination.

The next picture (Fig. 20): Here I take the liberty of showing the layout of the whole. The main entrance from the west: you enter the auditorium through a few vestibules. This auditorium holds chairs for nine hundred to a thousand listeners or spectators. Here you can see a gallery that is closed inwards by seven columns on each side. Only one thing is symmetrical here: namely, in relation to the west-east axis. This is the only axis of symmetry. The building's motifs are only designed symmetrically in relation to this axis of symmetry, the east-west axis; otherwise there is no repetition. Therefore, the columns are decorated with capital and base motifs that are not the same, but are in progressive development. I will show this in detail later. So if you have a first column on the left and right, a second column on the left and right, the capital and base are always the same as those of the right column when viewed from the left, but the following columns always have different capitals, different bases and different architrave motifs above them (Figs. 33-54).

This is absolutely the case, and it has emerged as a necessity from organic building. And this is based on an artistic interpretation of Goethe's principle of metamorphosis. Goethe has indeed developed this metamorphosis theory - which, in my firm conviction, will still play a major role in the science of the living - in an ingenious way. Anyone who still reads his simply written booklet “Attempt to Explain the Metamorphosis of the Plant” from 1790 has before them a grandiose scientific treatise that, according to today's prejudices, simply cannot be sufficiently appreciated. If one wants to express it simply, one must say: Goethe sees the plant as a complicated leaf. He now begins with the lowest leaf, which is closest to the ground, follows the leaves upwards to the heart leaves, which are shaped quite differently than the foliage leaves, then the petals, which are even colored quite differently, then the stamens and pistils, which are shaped quite differently. Goethe says: “Everything that appears in such seemingly different metamorphoses in the leaves of the plant is such that it can be traced back to an ideal similarity and only appears in different metamorphoses for the external sense impression. Basically, the plant leaf always repeats the same basic form; only in the external sensual perception is the ideal similarity differently formed, metamorphosed.

Now, of course, people come and see seven columns – deep mysticism! Yes, there are definitely members of the Anthroposophical Society who, in all sorts of dark, mysterious allusions, talk about the deep mysticism of these seven columns and so on. But there is nothing in it but artistic feeling. When you arrive at the seventh column, this motif of the seventh column is exactly the same as that of the first column – if you really create as nature has created – as the seventh is to the first. And just as the first motif is repeated in the octave, the seventh, you would have to repeat the first motif if you were to move on to the eighth.

Here you can see the boundary between the large and small domes; there is the lectern, which can be retracted because it has to be removed when the theater is in use. Here again there are twelve columns in the perimeter, here the boundary of the small domed room, here the two transverse buildings for dressing rooms and so on.

The next picture (Fig. 21): Here I have made a section through the middle. One enters from the west through the vestibules. Here is the stage area, and rising up from here is the auditorium, the rows of seats, again the seven columns, and here the great dome is connected to the small one by a particularly complicated mechanical structure. Here are the storerooms, the concrete substructure, the dressing rooms for taking off clothes. Here you go in, and then there are the stairs; here you come up and there is the main gate through which you enter.

The next picture (Fig. 22): Here I have taken the liberty of presenting my original model in cross-section. The whole building was originally modeled by me in 1913. Here you see the auditorium with its seven columns, the vestibules, here only hinted at the interior of the great dome, which was then painted; here in the small dome room, the capitals everywhere – I will show them in detail in a moment – here the architrave motifs above them; here the plinth motifs, always emerging metamorphically from one another. So, as I said, it is 'only' a line of symmetry, the central axis of the building. Otherwise, no repetitions can be found, except for what is located on the left and right.

The next picture (Fig. 10): seen from the terrace, the view of the West Gate, the main entrance gate, with two wings, which are necessary [gap in shorthand].

The next picture (Fig. 12): there is such a wing structure, the northern one [seen from the northeast]. Dr. Großheintz's house is also located here, an entire concrete building with about 15 rooms, a family house where I tried to create a residential house out of the concrete material by integrating it into this concrete material. It is near the Goetheanum and was built for the person who donated the land. You can see here how I tried to metamorphose the motif. Everything about this building emerges from the other, like a plant leaf, so to speak, in its form from the other form: it is entirely in the artistic sense the work of metamorphosis.

Next image (Fig. 14): This is one of the side wings, the south wing. Here you can see how the motif above the west entrance appears in a completely different form. It is the same idea, but completely different in form. It is just as, say, the dyed flower petal is the same idea as the lowest green leaf of the plant, and yet in external metamorphosis it is something completely different. In this way, one can indeed sense this organic building-thought by living and finding one's way into the metamorphic by giving oneself up to it, but understanding it in a feeling-based way, not in an abstract, intellectual way. This should not actually be explained, but everything should be given by the sight itself.

Once the building is finished, those who are familiar with the anthroposophical attitude and feeling will not perceive the building as symbolic at all, but as something that flows from this overall attitude. Of course one would say that it should flow out of the “generally human”; but this generally human is only a foggy and fanciful construct, a fantasy. The human is always the concrete. Someone who has never heard of Christianity naturally does not understand the Sistine Madonna either. And someone who has no sense of Christianity would never understand the Last Supper in Milan in the church of Santa Maria delle Grazie. It is certainly possible to use language to imagine what was given, but apart from that, there is nothing symbolic about the entire structure; all the forms are metamorphosed variations of one another.

Next picture (Fig. 11): Here you see such a lateral transverse structure, viewed from the front, that is, here from the south side. Up here in a substantially modified metamorphosis is the motif that is also above the west entrance. All these motifs are in various metamorphoses, so that the whole architectural idea is carried out organically. Likewise, if you were to study the columns, you would find a basic form, and this is always metamorphosed, just as, in the end, the skull bones of humans are a metamorphosed transformation of the bones of the spinal cord, as everything in the organism is a metamorphosed transformation right down to the last detail.

The upper part (Fig. 14) of the southern transverse structure seen on its own; this motif, which was just a little smaller there, is now a little larger.

Next picture (Fig. 23): Here you can see part of the staircase. You would enter through the main entrance below, into the concrete building, and go up these stairs. Here you can see the banister and here a pillar. On this pillar you can see how the attempt is made to shape the supporting pillar in an organic form, how the attempt is made to give the pillar the form that it must have after the opposite exit, because there is little to carry; the form that it must have where it is braced, where the entire weight of the staircase lies. Of course, something like this can only be formed geometrically. But here, for once, an attempt should be made to shape the whole thing as if it were alive, so that, as it were, the glow of consciousness of bearing and burdening lies within; with every curve, everything is precisely and intuitively measured for the place in the building where it is located.

Especially if you look at this motif here (Fig. 24): there are three half-circular channels on top of each other. Believe it or not, but it is true: when someone goes up there and enters the auditorium, they must have a certain feeling. I said to myself, the one who goes up there must have the feeling: in there, I will be sheltered with my soul, there is peace of mind to absorb the highest truths that man can aspire to next. That is why, based on my intuitive perception, I designed these three semicircular channels in the three perpendicular spatial directions. If you now go up these stairs, you can experience this feeling of calm. It is not modeled on it – it is not that at all – but only later did I remember that the three semicircular channels in the ear also stand in these three directions perpendicular to each other. If they are violated, a person will faint: they are therefore connected with the laws of equilibrium. It was not created out of a naturalistic desire for imitation, but out of the same desire, which is modeled on the way the channels are arranged in the ear.

You enter from the west side, go up the stairs, here are the three perpendicular semicircular canals, and here again these pillars. Of course, it often happens in life – I have experienced it many times – that when people in a city have seen an actor or actress in certain roles, and later another actor or actress has come along who could be good, better, more interesting or different, they judge them based on the earlier ones. If they did everything exactly like the earlier ones, they were good; if they did it differently, they were bad, no matter how good they might be in themselves. And so, of course, people judge such a thing according to what they are accustomed to, and do not know that when something like this is erected, every effort is made to make it look as if it were supported in different ways on different sides, and that this is derived from the overall organic structure of the building. Some found it thin and called it rachitic, others thought it resembled an elephant foot, but could not call it an elephant foot either, and so someone came up with the name “rachitic elephant foot” based on their own intuitive feeling. This is what happens so often today when some attempt is made to bring something new out of the elementary.

Next image (Fig. 27): If you go up the stairs, you will come to the vestibule before entering the large domed room. Here you can already see the beginning of the timber construction. At this height, there would be a concrete terrace, with the concrete structure below. You can see from this column how the capital, with all its curves, is precisely adapted to the location, not just schematically in space, but dynamically. The curves at the exit have to express a different form of support than those on the opposite side of the building, where the columns have to brace against them. That is why all these wooden forms, column capitals, architraves and so on had to be made by our friends from the Anthroposophical Society over many years of work. All this is handcrafted, including, for example, the ceiling, which does not have just any schematic form, but is individually designed on all sides in its curves and surfaces, hollowed out differently in one spatial direction than in the other spatial direction. And all this according to the law, just as the ear is hollowed out differently at the front than at the back, and so on.

Next picture (Fig. 30): Now we have entered and are standing in the room that is the auditorium. If we turn around and look backwards, we see the organ room here, which you can see in more detail in other pictures. But here you only have the model, not as it can be seen now in the building, where a lot has been added. I have tried to integrate this organ in such a way that one does not have the feeling that something has been built into the rest of the space, but rather that at this point what is presented here as the organ case and the organ itself has literally grown out of the whole. That is why the architecture and sculpture are adapted to the lines created by the rest, i.e. the organ pipes and so on.

Next image (Fig. 28): You are now, so to speak, in the auditorium, looking from the auditorium at the columns. Here is the organ motif, here are the first two columns with their capitals. We then come to the altered, metamorphosed capitals of the second, third, fourth columns and so on – I will show this in detail in a moment – above them always the architrave motif and below the base motif. Next image (Fig. 29): The pictures were taken at different times. The construction has been going on since 1913, when the foundation stone was laid, and the pictures show it in various stages. Here again, if you turn around in the auditorium and look to the west, the upper part, the organ motif; the first and second columns with capitals on the left and right, the capitals and the architraves above them are quite simply designed. In the following, I will show one column and the one that follows, and then each column with the column capital on its own, so that you can see how the following column capital always emerges metamorphosically from the preceding one. This particularly emphasizes the fact that, basically, the individual column cannot be judged on its own, but only the entire sequence of columns in their successive form can be judged.

Next image (Fig. 34): Here you see the first column by itself, simply from bottom to top in the forms, simply from top to bottom. You see a very simple motif.

Next image (Fig. 35): Here you see the first motif, the first capital with the architrave above it; here the second, emerging organically from the first. The motif, which goes from top to bottom, grows; in growing, it metamorphoses, and so does the motif from bottom to top. To a certain extent, one has to feel one's way into the forces that are at work when an upper plant leaf is created in its form, metamorphosed compared to the lower one; in the same way, this first simple plant motif develops into a more complicated one. What matters is that you take the whole sequence of motifs, because each one always belongs with the other; in fact, all seven belong together and form a whole.

Next image (Fig. 36): Here you see the second column by itself. The next motif always emerges metamorphically from the previous one. I will now show the second and third columns.

Next picture (Fig. 37): the second and third columns, again the third capital motif with the architrave motif above it is more complicated, so that you really get this complicated form in your feeling if you do not want to explain it symbolically or approach it with some intellectual things, but with feeling. Then you will see the emergence of one from the other.

Next image (Fig. 38): The third column by itself.

Next image (Fig. 39): The third and fourth columns, that is, the capitals of these with the architrave motif. Here one could believe that the search was for this architrave motif to form a kind of caduceus. But it was not sought, it is simply sensed, as these meeting forms, when they continue to grow, continue to complicate, as they become there, and then the sensation of this motif, which resembles the caduceus, arises by itself. Likewise, as if this continues to grow: from bottom to top, things simplify, from top to bottom they complicate; then this form arises, which I will now show again in isolation.

Next image (Fig. 40): The fourth column.

Next image (Fig. 41): The fourth and fifth column. As can be seen from this, if you imagine it growing downwards, this form emerges, and it becomes simpler from the bottom up, and I would say that it grows in a more complex form upwards. That is the strange thing! When you think of development, you believe, from a certain false idea of development that has gradually formed, that development proceeds in such a way that you first have a simple thing, then a more complicated one, and then an increasingly complicated one, and that the most perfect thing is the most complicated. If you now put yourself in the right place in the developmental impulses with artistic perception, you see that this is not the case at all; that you must indeed advance from the simple to the more complicated; but then you arrive at the most complicated in the middle of the development, and then it becomes simpler as it approaches the more perfect.

That was, my dear attendees, while I was working on the models for these things, an extraordinary surprise for me. I had to go from the simple to the complicated - you see, we are here at the fourth and fifth pillars, so roughly in the middle of the seven pillar forms - and I had to have the most complicated thing in the middle and then go back to the simpler. And if I go back, as nature itself creates, I also find the human eye, but the human eye, although it is the most perfect, is not the most complicated. In the eye of certain lower animal forms, for example, we have the fan, the xiphoid process. The eye of certain lower animal forms is more complicated in some respects than the perfect human eye. In nature, too, it does not happen that one goes from the simpler to the more complicated and then further to the most complicated, but by observing things further, one comes back to the simpler. The more perfect is simpler again. And that turns out to be an artistic necessity in such a creative process.

Next image (Fig. 42): The fifth column in itself.

Next image (Fig. 43): Now the fifth and sixth columns. You can see that here the capital of the fifth column is still relatively complicated; if it continues to grow, it becomes simpler again: so that this sixth column, although more perfect in its design, is nobler, is simpler again. The same applies to the architrave motif.

Next image (Fig. 44): This sixth column stands alone.

Next image (Fig. 45): Sixth and seventh column, considerably simplified again. Next image (Fig. 46): The seventh column on its own, again simplified.

Next image (Fig. 47): This is the seventh column, the architrave motif; here is the gap between the large and small domed rooms; here is the curtain. Then the first column of the small domed room, and here we enter the small domed room.

Now that we have gone through the orders of the columns in the large domed room, I will show you the figures on the pedestals, which have also grown out of each other in a metamorphosing organic way. I will show them in quick succession.

Next image (Fig. 48): Here I show the figures on the pedestals in succession. First pedestal.

Next image (Fig. 49): Each one always emerges metamorphically from the other: Second plinth.

Next image (Fig. 50): If you now imagine the changes, this is what happens: Third base.

Next image (Fig. 51): Fourth pedestal, again more complicated. And now the simplifications begin with the pedestal figures, in order to arrive at perfection.

Next image (Fig. 52): Fifth pedestal. Next image (Fig. 53): Sixth pedestal. Next image (Fig. 54): This seventh pedestal figure is relatively simple again.

Next image (Fig. 55): Now, here you can see into the small dome room from the auditorium. You can still see the last column of the auditorium, then the columns and architraves of the small dome room. That is the end of the large dome room, here the center of the small dome room. Here, a kind of architrave is formed between the two central columns of the small dome, but [above it] is not some kind of symbolic figure. If you want to see a pentagram in it, you can see it in every five-petalled flower. We have [below] synthetically summarized all the lines and curves that are distributed on the individual columns. Above, the small dome is then painted. I will have more to say about this coloring.

The next picture (Fig. 56): individual columns of the small domed room. Here the gap [for the curtain]. It is seen here on the left when entering from west to east. Here is the architrave of the small domed room. Here, as you can see, the capitals of the large domed room are not repeated, they correspond to the overall architectural concept. Since the small dome room is smaller and every organ that is smaller in the organic context also has different forms, this is also clearly evident here in the formation of the whole.

The next picture (Fig. 64): Here again is the view into the small domed room, the last two columns of the large domed room; the same motif that you have just seen in a different aspect, and here the small dome. Of course, nothing of the paintings can be seen here, only the situation could be hinted at. The bases of the small columns have been converted into seats.

The next picture (Fig. 67): Here the orders of columns continue to the left and right; this is in the middle in the east, directly under the small domed room, where all the lines and curves found elsewhere are synthetically summarized in the most diverse forms. This is a kind of architrave, a central architrave; below it is the group I will talk about, a nine-and-a-half-meter-high wooden group, the central figure of which represents a kind of human being. Above it is the small domed room.

The next picture (Fig. 69): We now come to the painting of the small domed room. Now, by speaking to you about the painting of the small domed room, I can only show you the pictures of this small domed room. In the painting of the large domed room, I have not yet fully succeeded in doing this, but in the painting of the small domed room, I have tried to realize to a certain extent what I had a character in my mystery dramas express about the new painting: that the forms of color should be the work, that is, that one should really pull oneself together to fully perceive the world of color as such.

Dear attendees! If you look at the world of colors, it is indeed a kind of totality, a world of its own. And if you feel very vividly into the colorful, then I would say red and blue and yellow speak to each other. You get a completely lively feeling within the world of colors and you get to know, so to speak, a world of colors as an essential one at the same time. Then drawing stops, because in the end you perceive drawing as something insincere. What then is the horizon line? If I draw it with a pencil, I am actually drawing an untruth. Below is the green surface of the sea, above is the blue surface of the vault of heaven, and when I put these down as color, the form arises, the line arises as the boundary of the color.

And so you can create everything out of the colored that you essentially want to bring onto the wall as painting – be it the wall of the spheres as here or the other wall. Do not be deceived because there are motifs, because there are all kinds of figures on it, even figures of cultural history. When I painted this small dome, it was not important to me to draw these or those motifs, to put them on the wall; what was important to me was that, for example, there is an orange spot here in different shades of orange: the figure of the child emerged from these color nuances. And here it was important to me that the blue was adjacent: the figure emerged, which you will see in a moment. It is definitely the figure, the essence, drawn entirely from the color. So here we have a flying child in orange tones, here would be the gap between the large and small domed rooms, and the child is, so to speak, the first thing painted on the surface of the small dome. But by seeing these motifs, you will best understand the matter if you say to yourself: I can't actually see anything in it, I have to see it in color. Because it is felt and thought and painted entirely out of color.

The next picture (Fig. 70): Here you see the only word that appears in the whole structure. There is no other inscription to be found anywhere; everything is meant to be developed into art, into form. But here you will find the “I”. Out of the blue, a kind of fist figure has emerged, that is, the 16th-century human being. The whole cognitive problem of modern man has really emerged from the perception of color before the soul. This cognitive problem of modern man can only be perceived in the abstract, if one perceives as it is often portrayed today; it is different from what we can grasp of natural laws today.

It [the problem of knowledge] intrudes into our soul when we do not merely view things scholastically as abstractions, but when we strive with our whole being to immerse ourselves in the riddles and secrets of the world, as we must in order to be fully human, in order to become aware of our human dignity. Then it places itself beside the striving human being, the one striving for knowledge, who in Faust really, I would say, strives out of the mysterious, mystical blue, strives for the fully conscious I that speaks. The older languages have the I in the verb; for this epoch one is justified in letting a word appear; otherwise there is no word, no inscription or the like in the whole structure, everything is expressed in artistic forms. But the child and birth, and the other end of life, death, are placed alongside the person striving for knowledge. Above it would be the Faust figure you have just seen, below it Death, and further over towards us this flying child. This skeleton here (Fig. 71) in brownish black, in the Faust book in blue, the child (Fig. 72) in various shades of orange and yellow.

The next picture (Fig. 73): Here you see a compilation: below the skeleton, here Faust, here this child, whom you saw individually, above it a kind of inspirer, an angel-like figure, which I will show as an individual, then other figures join here. As I said, the necessity arose for me to depict the striving of the people of the last centuries from the color surfaces that I wanted to place in just that position. Here then is the striving of the Greeks. You will see it in detail.

The next picture (Fig. 74): the genius in blue-yellow, who is above the fist-shape, as if inspiring the fist-shape from above. We would then come across the striving child. The next picture (Fig. 75): then a kind of Athena figure, taken out of a brownish-orange with light yellow. It is the way in which Greek thinking has become part of the whole world of knowledge and feeling. This figure that we have here is inspired by a kind of Apollo figure, just as Faust was previously inspired by his angel (Fig. 76); this brings us back to Greek thinking.

The next picture (Fig. 76): The inspiring Apollon. Particular care has been taken here with the bright yellow, through which this Apollo figure has been created out of color. I tried to give this bright yellow a certain radiance through the type of technical treatment.

The next picture (Fig. 77): Here you see two figures, which now inspire the Egyptian initiate, who recognizes the tables and feels the world. The man on the right is depicted in a somewhat darker color, I would say a reddish brown, and the Egyptian initiate, who is below him, is also depicted in this way.

The next picture (Fig. 78): The Egyptian knower, that is, the counter-image for those ancient times, which in our case is Faust, who strives for knowledge.

The next picture (Fig. 79): Here you see two figures that I am obliged to always assign certain names to in spiritual science because they keep recurring. One should not think of nebulous mysticism here, but only of the necessity of having a terminology; just as one speaks of north and south magnetism, so I speak of the Luciferic and the Ahrimanic. When we stand face to face with a human being, we cannot grasp his whole being at once, nor with all the powers of knowledge. He has within him two opposing polarities: that which in him constantly strives towards the rapturously false mysticism, false theosophy, that which always seeks to rise above itself towards the unreal , the unfounded, the nebulous - the Luciferic - and that which makes him a Philistine, that which predisposes him to the spirit of heaviness - the Ahrimanic, which is painted here with its shadow. The Luciferic is painted in the yellow-reddish color, the Ahrimanic in the yellow-brownish. It is the dualism of human nature. We can have it physically, physiologically: Then the Ahrimanic in man is everything that ages him, that brings him to sclerosis, to calcification, that makes him ossify; the Luciferic is everything that, when it develops pathologically, brings one to fever, to pleurisy, that thus develops one towards warmth. Man is always the balance between these two. We do not understand the human being if we do not see in him the balance between these two, the Luciferic and the Ahrimanic.

In particular, however, the Germanic-Central European culture that came over Persia is confronted with this duality in its knowledge. Hence the recognizing Central European, who has the child here (Fig. 82) – we will see him in more detail – is inspired by this duality of the Luciferic-Ahrimanic, with which he must come to terms through his inner tragic destiny of knowledge. Here this kind of dualism is seen again in the smaller figure, shaped like a centaur. I painted this during the war, and one sometimes has one's private ideas; the ill-fated fabric of Woodrow Wilson's fourteen points grew out of the abstract transformation of dualism. Here in Switzerland, too, I have repeatedly spoken of the world-destroying nature of these fourteen points: Therefore, I took the private pleasure of immortalizing Mr. and Mrs. Wilson in these figures. But, as I said, this is of little importance.

The next picture (Fig. 81): Here you see the Ahrimanic figure brought out and the shadow above it. In spiritual terms, this is everything that drives man to materialism, to philistinism, to pedantry, what he becomes when – be it expressed in the extreme – he has only intellect and no heart, when all his powers, his soul powers, are directed by the intellect. And if man did not have the good fortune that his outer body is more in balance, his outer body would actually be determined by the soul, he would be an exact expression of the soul: All those people who feel materialistically, feel pedantically, who are almost completely absorbed in the intellect, would look like that on the outside. Of course, they are protected from this by the fact that their body does not always follow the soul, but the soul then looks like this when you see it, when you feel it physically.

Next image (Fig. 80): The Luciferic, worked out of the yellow, worked out of the yellow into the bright. This is what a person develops when he shapes himself one-sidedly according to the visionary, one-sidedly according to the theosophical, when he grows beyond his head; one often finds it developed in some members of other movements who always grow half a meter with their astral head above their physical head so that they can look down on all people. This is the other extreme, the other pole of man.

Here at the bottom, so to speak, is the Germanic initiate (Fig. 82), the Germanic knower in his tragedy, which lies in the fact that duality has a particularly strong effect on him: the Luciferic and the Ahrimanic; as an addition, again, the naivety of the child. This is what emerged for the artistic sensibility. It was worked out of the brown-yellow; the child is kept in the light yellow.

Next picture (Fig. 83): Here we are already approaching the center of the domed room. This man would stand here with the child, and further towards the center are these two figures, which are one. Of course, this does not refer to the current Russian culture or lack of culture, which is corrupting people and the world, but rather the Russian culture actually contains the seed for something future. At present it is overshadowed by what has been imported from the West, by what should indeed disappear from the earth as soon as possible if it does not want to drag the whole of Europe with it into the abyss. But at the bottom of Russian nationality lies something that is guaranteed a future. It should be expressed through this figure, which has its double only here. That which lives in Russian nationality always has something of a double about it. Every Russian carries his shadow around with him. When you see a Russian, you are actually seeing two people: the Russian, who dreams and who is always flying a meter above the ground, and his shadow. All of this holds future possibilities. Hence this characteristic angel figure, painted out of the blue, out of the various shades of blue. Above it, a kind of centaur, a kind of aerial centaur. Here this figure, everything in the indefinite, even the starry sky above this Russian man, who carries his doppelganger with him.

Next image (Fig. 85): We have now passed the center here. This is the same centaur figure – when facing east, located on the left – as the earlier one on the right of the center. This angel figure is the symmetrical one to the one you have just seen. This one, however, is painted in a yellowish orange, and below it would now be the Russian with his doppelganger, but symmetrical to what was shown before.

Next image (Fig. 86): Now we are standing in the middle of the small domed room. Once again, on the other side, the Russian motif. Here, you can see the figure of Ahriman lying in a cave; and here, at the top, the representative of humanity. One can imagine him as the Christ. I have formed him out of my own vision as a Christ-figure. Lightning flashes come out of his right hand and surround Ahriman like the coils of a snake. His arm and hand go up to Lucifer, who is painted emerging from the reddish-yellow.

Next image (Fig. 87): Here you can see the figure of Lucifer a little more clearly. Below would be the figure of Christ, reaching up with his arm; this is the face, painted in yellow-red. So it is the Luciferic in man that strives beyond his head, the enthusiastic, that which alienates us from our actual humanity by making us alien to the world, bottomless.

Next image (Fig. 88): Ahriman in the cave. His head is surrounded by lightning serpents that emanate from the hand of Christ, who is standing above them. Here the wing, the brownish yellow, is painted more in the brownish direction, in places descending into the blackish blue.

Next picture (Fig. 89): Here I am now showing you my first sketch for the plastic figure of Christ. You see, I tried to make Christ beardless, but Christ pictures have only had a beard since the end of the fifth or sixth century. Of course, no one has to believe me. It is the Christ as he presented himself to me in spiritual vision, and there he must be depicted beardless.

Next image (Fig. 90): The painted head of Christ between Ahriman and Lucifer, the images that I have just shown. Painted in the dome room above is Christ between Ahriman and Lucifer, and below it will later be – it is still far from finished – the nine-and-a-half-meter-high wooden group (Fig. 93), in the middle of which is the representative of humanity, the Christ, with his right arm lowered and his left arm raised, in such a way that this position, like embodied love, is placed between Ahrimanic and Luciferic forces.

Next picture (Fig. 92): This is the first model, made in plasticine, for the Christ, en face, that is, for the representative of humanity, who is to stand in the middle of the wooden group (Fig. 93). But I would like to explicitly note that it will not be somehow obvious that this is the Christ; rather, one will have to feel it from the forms, from the artistic aspect. Nothing, absolutely no inscription, except for the “I” that I mentioned earlier, can be found in the entire structure.

Next image (Fig. 98): This is from the left side of this group of woodcuts [taken from the execution model]: Here is Lucifer striving upwards, and above him a rock creature emerging from the rock, so to speak, the rock transformed into an organ. Here is Lucifer; here Christ would stand; here is the other Lucifer, and that is such a rock creature. It is a risk to make it completely asymmetrical, as asymmetries in general play a certain role in these figures, because here the composition is not conceived in such a way that one takes figures, puts them together and makes a whole – no, the whole is conceived first and the individual is extracted. Therefore, a face at the top left must have a different asymmetry than one at the top right. It is a daring thing to work with such asymmetries, but I hope that it will be felt to be artistically justified if one ever fully comprehends the overall architectural idea.

Next image (Fig. 99): Here you can see the model of the Ahriman head. It is the original wax model that I made in 1915. It is an attempt to shape the human face as if the only things present in the human being were the aging, sclerotizing, calcifying forces, or, in the soul, that which makes the human being a philistine, pedant, materialist, which lies in him by being an intellectualizing being. If he had no heart at all for his soul life, but only reason, then he would present this physiognomy. We do not get to know the nature of a human being by merely describing it in the way that ordinary physiology and anatomy do. This one-sided approach provides only a limited insight into the human being. We must move on to an artistic appreciation of form, and only then do we get to know what lives and breathes in a person, what is truly there. You can never get to know the human being, as is attempted in the academies, anatomically or physiologically; you have to ascend to the artistic – that is part of artistic recognition – and must recognize, as Goethe says: “When nature begins to reveal her secrets to him who is open to them, he feels the deepest yearning for her most worthy interpreter, art.” Not only the abstract word, not only the abstract idea and the abstract thought, but also the image gives something of what the forces of nature are, what is really contained in the secrets of nature. One must ascend to the artistic, otherwise one cannot recognize nature. The building may rightly call itself the “Goetheanum” for the reason that precisely such a Goethean understanding of nature also strives for an understanding of the world. Goethe says: Art is a special way of revealing the secrets of nature, which could never be revealed without art.

Next image (Fig. 101): The figure of Lucifer above, here the chest, wing-like. It is the case that one really has to immerse oneself in all of nature's creativity if one wants to give plastic form to something like this figure of Lucifer. Nothing can be symbolized, nothing can be allegorized, nothing can be thought and the thought put into earlier forms, but one must really delve into how nature creates, one must know the nature of the human rib cage, the lungs, one must know the organ of hearing, then the atrophied flight tools that the human being has in his two shoulder blades. All of this must be brought into context, because a person would look quite different if they were not intellectually developed, if the heart did not hypertrophy and overgrow everything: The heart, the hearing organs, wing-like organs, everything would be one. Those who do not merely accept the naturalistic, but also what is ideal, spiritual in the beings, will see in such art only that which reveals the secrets of the world and of existence in the Goethean sense. Up there you can see the hands of this asymmetrical rock creature.

Next image (Fig. 103): Here you can see a building in the vicinity of the Goetheanum. It was originally built to carry out a kind of glass etching. Now it serves as a kind of office space, and eurythmy rehearsals and eurythmy lessons are also given there. In the wooden wall of the large domed room, there are glass windows between every two columns, and these glass windows are not made in the old glass window art, but in a special art, which I would call glass etching. Panes of glass of the same color are engraved with a diamond-tipped stylus that is clamped into an electric machine, and the artist actually works here as an etcher on glass, as he otherwise works as an etcher on a plate, only on a larger scale. So that you scratch out in the monochrome glass plate, thus working the motif in question into the light. This is how we got these glass windows, which have different glass colors, so that there is a harmonious effect. When you enter the building, you first come to one glass color, then to the other, to certain color harmonies. These glass windows had to be ground here; accordingly, this house was built, which, except for the gate and the staircase, is individually designed in every detail. Here we do not have the earlier castles that are otherwise present, but a special form of castle has been used (Fig. 105). So it is individually designed down to the last detail. Next picture (Fig. 104): The gate to this house just shown; below the concrete staircase.

Next image (Fig. 110): Here you see one of these glass windows, which is executed in green. The motifs here are created out of green panes of the same color. The etching is actually only, I would say, a kind of score. This is then a work of art when it is in its place and the sun shines through. So the artist does not finish the work of art, but only a kind of score: when the sun shines through, this etching achieves what, together with the sunbeam shining through, actually creates the work of art. This again marks something that emerges from the whole building idea of Dornach and is physically expressed here.

The Dornach building is built on a fundamentally different architectural idea from other buildings. The walls of the previous buildings are closing walls, artistically also conceived as closing walls. No wall in Dornach is conceived in this way; the walls in Dornach are designed in such a way that they are artistically transparent, so that one does not feel closed in when one is inside the building. All the walls, so to speak, open up through the artistic motifs to the whole great world, and one enters this building with the awareness that one is not in a building but in the world: the walls are transparent. And this is carried out in these glass windows right down to the physical: they are only a work of art when the sun shines through them. Only together with the sunbeam does what the artist has created become artistic.

Next picture (Fig. 113): Another window sample, taken from the same-colored glass pane. The fact that these windows are there means that the room is again illuminated with the harmoniously interwoven rays, and one can, especially when one enters the room in the morning hours, when it is full of sunshine, really feel something through the light effects in the interior, which cannot be called nebulous, but in the best sense inwardness, an impression, an image of the inwardness of the existence of the world and of human beings. For just as, for example, in Greek temple architecture there stands a house that can only be conceived as the house that no human being actually enters, at most the forecourt as a hall of sacrifice, but which is the dwelling place of the god, just as the Gothic building, regardless of whether it is a secular or a church building, is conceived as that which is not complete in itself, but which is complete when it has become a hall for assembly and the community is within it, the whole building idea of Dornach, as I have developed it here in its details, should work so that when a person enters this space, they are just as tempted to be in the space with other people who will look at what is presented and listen to what is sung, played or recited.

Man will be tempted, on the one hand, to feel sympathy with those who are gathered, but the question or the challenge that is as old as Western culture will also arise: know thyself! And he will sense something like an answer to this in the building around him: know thyself. The attempt has been made to express in the building forms, in an artistic and non-symbolic way, that which the human being can inwardly experience.

We have already experienced it: when, for example, an attempt was made to recite - to eurythmy or to recite to oneself - the space that I showed you as the organ room, when an attempt was made to recite into it, or when an attempt was made to speak of the intermediate space between the two dome spaces, the whole room took these things in as a matter of course. Every form is adapted to the word, which wants to unfold recitatively or in discussion and explanation. And music in particular spreads out in these plastic-musical formal elements, which the building idea of Dornach is meant to represent.

In conclusion, I would just like to say, my dear attendees: With these details, which I have tried to make clear to some extent through the pictures, I wanted to present to your souls what the building idea of Dornach should be: a thought that dissolves the mechanical, the geometric, into the organic, into that which itself presents the appearance of consciousness, so that this consciously appearing element willingly accepts that which arises from the depths of human consciousness.

However, this means that something has been created that differs from previous building practices and customs, but in the same way that spiritual science oriented towards anthroposophy also wants to place itself in the civilization of the present day: as something that feels related to the emerging forces of the rising sun, and at the same time wants to strongly oppose the terribly devastating forces of decline of our time. Thus, that which wants to live in the teaching of anthroposophy, the whole world view of anthroposophy, also wants to express itself through the building forms. What is to be heard in Dornach through the spoken word should also be seen in the forms. Therefore, no arbitrary architectural style was to be used, no arbitrary building constructed: it had to grow out of the same spiritual and intellectual background from which the words spoken in Dornach arise. The whole idea behind the building, the whole of the Dornach building, is not to be a temple building, but a building in which people come together to receive supersensible knowledge.

People say that just because one is too poor to find words for the new, one often says: that is a temple building. But the whole character contradicts the old temple character. It is entirely that which is adapted in every detail to what, as spiritual science in the anthroposophical sense, wants to step out into the world. And basically, every explanation is a kind of introduction to the language, to the world view, from which the artistic concept has emerged. I believe that artistically, the building expresses its own essence and content, even if it is still often perceived today as something that is not justified in terms of what is considered acceptable in terms of architectural style, forms and artistic language. Only someone who has already absorbed the impulse, the entire civilizing character of spiritual science, will understand that a new architectural idea had to emerge from this new world view. And as badly as contemporaries sometimes take it, something like this had to be presented, just as anthroposophical spiritual science had to be talked about.

And so, in the manner of a confession, today's discussion, which sought to point to the building of Dornach and to these thoughts, may simply conclude with the words: something was ventured that had not been done before as a building idea, but it had to be ventured. If something like this had not been ventured, had not been ventured at various points in time, there would be no progress in the development of humanity. For the sake of human progress, something must be ventured first. Even if the first attempt is perhaps beset with numerous errors – that is the very first thing that the person speaking here will admit – it must nevertheless be said: something like this must always be ventured again in the service of humanity. Therefore, my dear attendees, it has been ventured out there in Dornach, near Basel.

In the middle one of these three lectures there are a number of anthroposophical truths in particular that I would like to develop for you. We shall then see what a great impact on a person's everyday life these particular truths have, and that is what we will talk about tomorrow. Today I just want to draw you attention to some deeper aspects of the being of man.

People very often do not ask the question as to which of man's forces are used to acquire knowledge of supersensible worlds. They try to answer this question merely by saying that there is a possibility of acquiring supersensible knowledge by means of certain forces in man. But what the actual connections are between these forces and man's being, they do not usually ask. That is why so little importance is attached to making knowledge of supersensible worlds really fruitful in ordinary life. It can be said that supersensible knowledge is becoming more and more essential to man, just in our time. In that case it is vital to understand what its connection is with ordinary everyday life.

As you know, the first of the capacities that leads man into supersensible realms is the force of Imagination, the second capacity is the force of Inspiration and the third capacity the force of Intuition. The question now is whether these capacities need concern us at all except in their connection with knowledge of supersensible worlds or whether these capacities have any part to play in the rest of man's life?—You will see that the latter is the case. As my little book Education of the Child in the Light of Anthroposophy tells you, we can see human life running its course in three stages: from birth to the change of teeth, from the change of teeth to puberty, and from puberty till about the twenty-first year. If you do not regard man purely superficially you will be struck by the fact that the nature of man's development is entirely different in the three different seven-year stages. The pushing through of our permanent teeth, as I have often mentioned, is connected with the development of forces that are not merely confined, let us say, to our jaws or their neighbouring organs, but fill our whole physical body. There is work in progress within our physical body between birth and the seventh year, and this work comes to an end with the pushing through of our permanent teeth.

It is obvious that the forces doing this work of developing the physical body are supersensible, isn't it? The perceptible body is only the material in which they work. These supersensible forces, active in the whole of man's organisation during the first seven years of his life, become, as it were, suspended when their purpose has been achieved and the permanent teeth have appeared. At the age of seven these forces go to sleep. They are hidden within the being of man; they go to sleep within him. And they can be drawn forth from your being when you do the sort of exercises I describe in Knowledge of the Higher Worlds as leading to Intuition. For the forces that are applied in the acquisition of intuitive knowledge are the same forces that you grow with at the time of life when this growth culminates in the change of teeth. These sleeping forces that are active within the human body until the seventh year are the forces you use in supersensible knowledge to reach Intuition.

Now the forces that are active from the seventh year to the fourteenth year and go to sleep at puberty in the depths of the body, are drawn forth and form the power of Inspiration. And the forces that in bygone times used to be the source of youthful ideals between the fourteenth and the twenty-first year—it would be too much of an assertion to say that this still happens today—the forces that create organs in the physical body for these ideals of youth, are the same forces you can draw forth from their state of slumber and use for the acquisition of Imagination.

From this you will see that the forces of Imagination, Inspiration and Intuition are not just any old forces got from we do not know where, but are the same forces as those we grow with from our birth to the age of twenty-one. So the forces that live in Imagination, Inspiration and Intuition are very healthy forces. They are the forces a human being uses for his healthy growth and that go to sleep within his body when the corresponding phases of growth are completed.

I have just shown you the connections between the forces of supersensible knowledge and man's everyday existence. Something similar, though, can be said about the forces of man's normal nature, man's nature as it appears in ordinary life. Only there it is not so obvious. A very important force in ordinary life—and we have discussed it many times—is the force of memory. The power of memory is active within us when, as we say, we remember something we have experienced. But, as you all know, there is something peculiar about the power of memory. We have got it and yet we haven't got it. Many a person struggles at some moment of his life to try and remember something that he cannot remember. This wanting to remember but not being able to remember entirely, arises through the fact that the force we use in our souls to remember with is the same force that transforms the food we eat into the kind of substances our body can make use of. If you eat a piece of bread and this bread is transformed inside your body into the sort of substance that serves life, this is apparently a physical process. This physical process, however, is governed by supersensible forces. These supersensible forces are the same forces you use when you remember. So the same kind of forces are being used on the one hand for memory and on the other hand for the assimilation of foodstuffs in the human body. And you actually always have to oscillate a bit between your soul and your body if you want to dwell in memory. If your body is carrying out the process of digesting too well, you may find you will not be able to draw enough forces away from it to remember certain things. There is an inner struggle going on the whole time in the unconscious between a soul process and a bodily process every time you want to remember something. Looking at memory is the best way to understand how absurd it is basically, from a higher point of view, for some people to be idealists and other people materialists. The assimilation of foodstuffs in the human body is doubtless a material process. The forces controlling it are the same as the forces at work in a process of ideas, namely the force of memory. You only see the world aright if you see it as being neither materialistic nor idealistic, but are capable of following up the ideal aspect of what is presented in a material way and following up the material aspect of what is presented as idea. The spiritual quality of a world conception is hot being able to say 'Over there is base materialism, which is for the 'dregs' of humanity, and over here is idealism, which is for the elect—and the speaker usually includes himself among these—but the essential quality of a really spiritual world conception lies in its capacity to take what it has grasped in the spirit and bring it down into material existence so that material existence can be understood and not despised. That is the fallacy of many religious denominations, that they despise material existence instead of understanding it and looking for the spirit within it.

The crux of the matter is really to go into these things, and not, as is still largely the case, to deal in empty phrases where mysticism is concerned. After having as it were shown you how these things can really be gone into, I would now like to bring something of very great importance. When people speak of material existence and supersensible existence they usually speak of them as though material existence were spread out in the world and as though supersensible, non-perceptible existence were somewhere behind or above this. If you imagine you simply have physical-perceptible existence on the one hand and supersensible existence on the other, you will never understand man. There is no way of really grasping man if you look at things from the point of view of the perceptible world versus the supersensible world. In reality it is like this: The world of the senses and the world in which we work and live socially are spread out around us. Let us represent diagrammatically by means of this line this world that is spread out around us (see horizontal line of drawing). You will only have a complete picture of what is actually there in the world if you imagine that there are forces above this line, supersensible forces (red side). We neither perceive these supersensible forces by means of our ordinary senses nor by means of our intellect bound to our ordinary senses. We perceive only what is in the realm of this line.

But there are forces under this line as well. If we actually want to include the whole of the imperceptible or spiritual realm we must speak of subsensible as well as supersensible forces. So we must imagine that there are also subsensible forces here (orange side).

Thus we have the sense world, supersensible forces and subsensible forces. Where does man himself, as an ordinary person, belong? The part of him you see standing in front of you belongs entirely to this line. But supersensible forces from one side and subsensible forces from the other side work into the part of man that belongs to the line. Man is the result of supersensible and subsensible forces. Now which of man's forces are supersensible and which are subsensible? All the forces connected with understanding are supersensible, that is, everything we make use of for understanding. And these are the same forces that also form our head. So we can say that the supersensible forces are the forces of understanding.

Now subsensible forces also work into man. What kind of forces are these? These are will forces. All the will forces, everything in man that is of the nature of will, is subsensible.

An obvious question is where do these subsensible forces, these will forces, come from? They are the same forces as the forces of the planets, that is, from our point of view, the forces of the earth. Yes indeed, the forces of the earth are perpetually working into man. And it is our forces of will that are connected with these forces of the planets, these forces of the earth. The forces of understanding come to us from the world's periphery, and pour into us as it were from outside, from the outside of the planet. The forces of will enter into us from the planet itself. This is how the forces of our own planet earth live within us. The moment we enter birth the forces of planet earth are active within us.

The question now arises as to how this activity is distributed. There is a considerable difference in this respect in the first, second and third stage of life, that is, up till the seventh year, the fourteenth year and the twenty-first year. The will working in us up till the seventh year works entirely from out of the planet's interior. It is very interesting to see spiritual-scientifically that in everything working in the child up till the age of seven it is the forces of the earth's depths that are active. If you want to see an actual manifestation of the forces of the earth's interior, then make a study of everything going on in the child up till the age of seven, for these are the forces from within the earth. To delve down into the earth to find the forces of the earth's interior would be absolutely wrong. You would only find earth substances. The forces that are active in the earth come to manifestation in the work they do in the human being up till his seventh year. And from the seventh to the fourteenth year it is the forces of the encircling air that work in man, forces that still belong to the earth, to the earth's atmosphere. These are predominantly at work in everything developing in the human being between seven and fourteen. Then comes the most important stage of all, from fourteen to twenty-one. At this stage the subsensible passes over into the supersensible. Here a kind of balance is created between the subsensible and supersensible. Now the forces of the earth's whole solar system work at organising the human being.

So we have the earth's interior in the first period of life; encircling air in the second period of life, that is, what the earth itself is embedded in. The forces streaming down from cosmic spaces in so far as these cosmic spaces are filled with our own actual planetary system, up till the twenty-first year. Not until the age of twenty-one does man tear himself away, as it were, from the influences brought about in him from outside by the planets and the planetary system belonging to these.

Please notice that in everything I have referred to as having an influence on man, bodily influences are of course included. They are bodily processes that the forces from the planet's interior bring about up till the seventh year. They are bodily processes that are formed by the circulating air in connection with the breathing and so on between the seventh and the fourteenth year. There is no doubt that they are bodily processes, in fact actual transformations of bodily organs are brought about; everything being connected with man's growing and becoming larger. Thus man grows beyond all this work being done on him by the earth; all this ceases at twenty-one.

What happens then, however? What happens after twenty-one? Up till twenty-one we draw on what comes from the earth and its planetary system in the way we have described. We build up our constitution with the earth's help. Then, after we have reached the age of twenty-one, we have to draw on ourselves. We gradually have to release what we have put into our organism from out of the forces of the planet and the planetary system.

Activities going on in the blood forces always used to ensure that this happened in the past. As you will probably know, man has not learnt to release the planetary forces, himself, after the age of twenty-one. And yet he has been doing so. He did it as an unconscious process. The capacity was in his blood. It was built into him to do it. The important change in our present time—and the present extends over a long period of several centuries, of course—is that man's blood is losing the capacity to release what we have put into the organism in this way, before twenty-one

The important changes taking place in humanity at the present time are based on the waning of the forces in the blood. These things cannot be testified by external anatomy and physiology; to do that they would need to investigate bodies from the tenth or ninth centuries in order to discover that blood was different then. And they would not even have had the chemical tests to do it. But through spiritual science we can know with certainty that man's blood has grown weaker. And the great turning-point when human blood began to grow weak lay in the middle of the fifteenth century.

What are the consequences? The consequences of this are that what we cannot carry out unconsciously any more by means of our blood, we have to carry out consciously. We have to educate ourselves to do consciously what was simply done unconsciously by man's blood in the past. For the strength in our blood is in the process of fading away. What would happen if a time were to come when human beings completely lost hold of their youth, and were unable to draw on their youthful forces, if there were no means of resorting to doing consciously what was once done unconsciously by the blood?

You must not take these things in a purely theoretical way, of course. As theories, they may be interesting, but to take them as theories is not enough. Nowadays they have to be put into practice, for they are connected with the practical matter of the evolution of mankind. They must be put into practice to the point of making us conscious that man's whole educational system has to change. We have to help man to develop a strong, conscious capacity to re-experience later in life, as though with the force of elemental memory, what he has received in his youth.

Everywhere, people are still working contrary to this requirement. For instance they are proud of the visual aids used in primary school education, and they attach great importance to getting down to the mental level of the child as far as possible, and not teaching him anything that extends beyond his mental capacity. They actually rig up calculating machines so that they can teach the children to do all kinds of sums by counting balls. Nothing must go beyond the child's mental capacity. These visual aid lessons get frightfully trivial and trite. It is bound to lead to nothing but commonplace concepts if they avoid giving the child anything beyond its own mental capacity. People who do this, thoroughly overlook an important yet subtle observation of human life.

Supposing a child is taught in such a way that he takes a particular thing in, not because it is absolutely on his own mental level, but because his teacher's warmth of enthusiasm gets passed on to him, and the child takes the thing in because the teacher in his enthusiasm tells him about it. The child takes it in just because it lives in the warmth emanating from the teacher. If the child absorbs something that reaches beyond his understanding, purely because of the infectious quality of his teacher's enthusiasm, he will not yet understand what he has taken in, as people say in superficial life. Yet what he has taken in lives in his soul. At the age of thirty the grown-up will remember what the child took in, perhaps at the age of ten. He re-experiences it. He has become mature now, and he can understand what he is able to release from the depths of his soul; he can understand the thing he was taught purely through the force of enthusiasm, and which he is now able to release from his mature mind. You know, these are the most valuable moments in life, when your mental life does not have to be restricted to what comes to meet you from outside, but you re-experience what you took in in your younger days with inadequate understanding, and which you can now release and absorb with your more mature mind. The more care you take that the child does not just get the sort of lessons where it matter-of-factly takes in what it understands—for that will disappear with the passing years, and neither joy nor enthusiasm will come from it later—the more you will be doing for the person's later development; for lessons taken in purely through the teacher's warmth are life giving when they are re-experienced.

Nowadays this is of particular importance in teaching- In earlier times it was not so important, for in those days the releasing was carried out by the blood, whereas now it has to be brought to consciousness. It certainly makes a difference if you understand the kind of things that are being put to practical use by spiritual science. Because if you understand them in the right way you will find an opportunity somewhere in life of making practical use of them for the good of humanity. In this case, if you understand it properly, you will find an opportunity to make use of the fact that our blood is becoming weak, by attaching all the more importance to the teacher's capacity for enthusiasm.

But people are so little aware nowadays of what is at stake. For standardised education still plays a great part, that is, the kind of education that works with a whole set of standard rules. Education is learnt, how to teach a child is learnt, how to arrange the lesson is learnt. Comparing this with our present day consciousness it would be like learning that man consists of carbohydrates, protein and so on—these are our constituents and they undergo such and such changes inside our body, and we cannot eat before we have understood this; for we do not eat in a physiological sense until we understand it.—I told you once, and you may even have experienced this yourselves—, that you can already come across a thing like this:—You visit someone who has a scale standing beside his plate, and he carefully puts a piece of meat on the scales to find out how much it weighs, for he may only eat a piece of meat of a quite specific weight. Physiology already determines his appetite. But not everybody does it this way yet, thank goodness! It is important to understand that physiology is not part of the eating process but covers other aspects, and that a person can eat without having studied physiology, the physiology of the nutritional process. But we do not take it for granted that we also ought to teach, that is, teach in a living way, without having absorbed standardised education. This standardised education is exactly the same thing to a good teacher as the aesthetics of colour is to an artist. He can have studied aesthetics of colour very well, but he will not be able to paint because of that. The ability to paint comes from an entirely different quarter from the study of the aesthetics of colour. The ability to teach comes from an entirely different quarter from the study of education. The important thing, today, is not to give would-be teachers a seminar of some sort of standardised education that prescribes dogmas, but to give them the sort of thing that makes them become teachers and educators in the same way as people become artists or botanists. It is that the educator has to be born in a person and not that education has to be learnt.

What has to be understood just because of this very change in man's set-up is that education has to be a real art. In the time of transition people were at sixes and sevens as to what to do about education. That is why they invented so many abstract educational systems. The essential thing today, however, is to give people a real knowledge of man, especially if they are teachers. You see, if you possess this real knowledge of man and work out of it with children, a remarkable thing will happen: Let us suppose you are a teacher and have your pupils in front of you. If you are a student of standardised education, the kind that follows the rules, then you will know exactly how you have to teach, because you will have learnt the rules. You will teach according to these rules, today, just as you taught according to these rules yesterday and will teach according to them tomorrow and the day after tomorrow. But if you are the artist kind of teacher you are not nearly so well off. For now you cannot teach yesterday, today, tomorrow and the day after tomorrow according to the same rules, but have to learn from the child afresh each time, how he has to be taught; it must be man's own nature every time that determines what you do. And it is ideal if the teacher can teach the way the child tells him to teach, and can keep on forgetting actual education and has not got a clue about the rules. For the moment the child stands in front of him again he will again be electrified by the growing child and will know what he has to do with him.

You must pay attention to the way things have to be said, to the way things have to be spoken about today. You cannot speak about these things today in such a way that they can be put into so and so many satisfying principles, but you can only speak about them by pointing to something alive, something that cannot be reduced to abstract principles but which is alive and produces ever more life. That is the crux of the matter. That is why spiritual science is needed in actual life today, because spiritual science is not merely for the head but is for the whole of man and releases will impulses. Indeed it ought to enter into many realms of life, so that impulses of will are eventually brought into every sphere of human activity.

I have demonstrated this in one particular realm of life, namely education, and shown how the education of children under the age of twenty-one can be made to bear fruit for later life. People do not receive an education only up to the age of twenty-one, though, for education carries on throughout the whole of life. But this only happens in a healthy way if people learn from one another.

This too was done by the blood in earlier ages of history. When people met in social life they used to learn things from one another unconsciously, some people learning more and others less, according to the way their blood worked. But our blood has grown weak and has lost its power. This activity, too, has to be replaced by more consciousness. People must achieve the art of acquiring relatively more for themselves from other people compared with what they produce from out of themselves. In earlier times it was sufficient to rely on life. The blood did everything. Now it is essential for people really to develop a sense for the other person's being. This will come about as a matter of course if people steer their thoughts in the direction of spiritual science. Different kinds of thoughts are stimulated with spiritual science than without it.

You will not doubt this fact, for the way spiritual science is received by people who do not want to know anything about their thoughts shows that spiritual scientific thoughts are different from thoughts without spiritual science. It is necessary to develop a totally new way of thinking. The kind of thinking we develop when we accustom ourselves to working with supersensible thoughts is the kind of thinking that has an effect on our organism. And when I told you today that memory is the same force that transforms food into substances man needs for his organism you will no longer be astonished to find that other forces can be transformed in man, like for instance the force with which we understand supersensible things being the same one that helps us to know the human being better than we would know him if we had no healthy longing for supersensible knowledge.

You people study what is in my Occult Science, and to do that you have to develop certain concepts that most people would still call 'Utter madness'. A few days ago I got yet another letter from someone studying Occult Science, and he says that nearly every chapter is pure nonsense. You can understand people saying it is pure nonsense. Why, it is quite obvious that they often say it these days. Yet these people who do not put themselves out to accept the kind of concepts that lead to Saturn, Sun, Moon, Jupiter, Venus and Vulcan, and do not get down to developing ideas about a world that is not limited to the senses will also not acquire any knowledge of man. They do not see the human being in the other person but notice at the most that one person has a more pointed nose than the other, and one has blue eyes whereas the other has brown. But they notice nothing of man's inner being that manifests as his soul and organises his body. The same force which enables us to take an interest, and I am not saying now that it enables us to have supersensible occult powers, but the same force that enables us to take an interest in supersensible knowledge also gives us the kind of knowledge of man that we need today.

You can set up the most grandiose social programmes and develop the finest social ideas, but if people shy away from acquiring any knowledge of man and do not see any real humanity in one another, they will never be able to bring about social conditions. They cannot produce social conditions unless they establish the possibility that people can be social. But people cannot be social if they do not see the human quality in one another, but live entirely within themselves. Human beings can only become social if they really meet one another in life, and something passes between them. This is the root of the social problem. Most people say of the social question nowadays, that if certain things were arranged in such and such a way people would be able to lead a social existence.—But it is not like that. If things are arranged like that, social people will be good people in a social sense, and anti-social people will be anti-social with any sort of arrangement.

The essential thing is to make the sort of arrangements that allow for human beings to develop really social impulses. And one of these social impulses is knowledge. But as long as you go on educating people, for instance, with an eye to their becoming clerks or army officers or some other kind of civil servant, you will not educate them to recognise the human quality in others. For the sort of education that is good for becoming a clerk or an officer only helps you to see clerks and officers in other people. The kind of education that makes human beings of people also enables them to recognise people as human beings. But it is impossible to recognise people as human beings if you do not develop a sense for supersensible knowledge. And the realm in which supersensible knowledge is most indispensable is in the art of education. Therefore the natural scientific, materialistic way of thinking has done more damage in the field of education than anywhere else. And here you can experience the most amazing things.

In every department you find well-meaning people today, who want to reform everything, even revolutionise them. But if you talk to these people about these things, something very strange transpires. They will admit quite honestly to a particular conviction about reforming things. Yet one of them who happens to be a tailor will ask you how his existence as a tailor is going to be affected when things change. And another person, who is, let us say, a railway clerk, asks you how his life as a railway clerk is going to suffer when things are changed.—These are only given as examples to show you that people are perfectly in agreement that everything should be changed as long as nothing changes and everything remains exactly the same. The vast majority of people today are convinced that everything must stay exactly the same when it changes. Make no mistake about the fact that the sort of social improvement people long for today is of extremely abstract dimensions. People long for a great deal, but nothing must change where their comfort is concerned.

And this is particularly true where it is a of people taking an inner step into an entirely new situation. Nevertheless the essential thing is that people open themseIves to the possibility of making the transition to thinking in quite a new way about man changing himself in his innermost being.

All sorts of questions arise from these considerations, questions that are absolutely pertinent to life. What we must realise is that we have constructed a deeper foundation for these questions, by saying that although certain forces appear to be of a spiritual-soul nature, they also come to expression in our bodily nature. For the capacity is terribly lacking today, to bring down to a material level what we think of on a spiritual level. Not until we are capable of bringing down on to a material level what we think of as being spiritual shall we be able to grasp the actual nerve of the social question.

Thus it is virtually a matter of aiming towards a way of thinking that really develops a knowledge of man that is at one and the same time a social impulse. A way of thinking based on anything else is not adequate. A mentality based on the life of the state or the life of economics creates clerks and officers. But the sort of mentality we need creates human beings. This can only be the sort of thought life that breaks away from the sphere of economics and the life of the state. That is why our Threefold Social Organism had to happen. We had to show in a radical way that any kind of dependency of thought life on economics or on the life of the state had to stop, and thought life had to be set up on its own basis. Then thought life will be able to give economics and the life of the state what economics and the state cannot give to the life of thought.

That is the important thing, that is what is vital! Whole human beings will only arise again when we work out of an independent life of thought.

One of the repeated objections to the search for spiritual knowledge, in the last third of the nineteenth century, is this: when a man has passed through the gates of death he will see the nature of the spiritual life as lived without the physical body, but while here in the physical body attention must be paid to earthly life; here man should live as if the earth were his sole sphere of activity. A deeper study of Spiritual Science shows us increasingly what a superficial grasp of spiritual life is contained in such a statement. It teaches us that things are not really as though life in a physical body before death were entirely separate from life in the spiritual world after death, as if the one did not contact the other. We shall best come to a common understanding for study, if we consider what we already know of the connection of the spiritual life with physical life. Let us begin by reminding ourselves of what we have learnt from Spiritual Science about the alternating life of man between sleeping and waking. We speak of this rightly when we say: The Ego and astral body are outside the physical body during sleep. This is a sufficient answer for the immediate demand for knowledge, but only one aspect of the full truth; it is as though we were to say: the sun rises in the morning and sets in the evening, and is not there in the interval. We know that for the earth this is not the case; we know that during the time the sun is not shining for us it is shining elsewhere, giving its light to other inhabitants of the earth when it is dark for us. It is much the same with the life of the Ego and astral body in. relation to that of the physical and etheric bodies, if we take a wide view of it. True, the Ego and astral body are outside the physical body during sleep, but only partially they are outside the blood and nerve-systems. When we all asleep the sun of our Ego and astral body sets in this way for the blood and nerve-systems; yet from the Ego and astral body outside, the forces radiate while we are sleeping into those organs not connected with the blood and nerves. Our body lives in two spheres. We live in one while awake, when we are ensouled by our Ego and astral body; and in the other when we sleep, in the sphere from which the radiations and force of our Ego and astral body pour into the activities of our body-with the exception of the functions connected with the blood and nerves. Actually during sleep we are in the spiritual world with our Ego and astral body—as it were inserted into it—and just those forces of the astral body and Ego of which man is unconscious in normal human life, stream into his bodily organs when he is asleep. Thus we see the enormous significance of sleep for healthy human life on earth. I will make this clear by a little diagram. Let us take (a) for the sphere of the spiritual world, and (b) our body on earth. I will then shade the part connected with the blood and nerves; the other contains the organs apart from the system of blood and nerves. This cannot really be so sharply divided, for in a certain sense the nerve and blood systems are themselves organs with activities of their own like the other organs; but in so far as they are instruments for the conscious soul-life they may be considered as ensouled and inspired by the Ego and astral body.

This same Ego and astral body are taken into the sphere of spiritual life during the night and they thence radiate their forces into the other organs of the body. Thus we may say: There is in our physical body something that is strengthened and revived by what our soul in its sleeping condition draws into itself from the spiritual world and with which it is permeated by the spiritual world. The sun of our Ego and astral body sets for the nerves and blood, in so far as the Ego is connected with the blood, and the latter is not merely bodily life. It sets for the blood and nerves when the human being sleeps, and shines into the other organs functioning in our body. From this fact we can easily understand that sleep is an important Healer, and that unhealthy sleep may be regarded as one of the most deep-seated causes of illness, especially in relation to certain inner functions of our bodily life. Spiritual Science shows us that the way in which our Ego and astral body leave the blood and nerve-systems during sleep and enter spiritual life, is a matter of great consequence. Such things as I am about to discuss can apparently be refuted easily by so-called external experience, but the Spiritual Scientist must become accustomed to the fact that these refutations are only apparent, and that what is actually derived from the observations of inward processes is true. If the outer facts seem contradictory, we must search and see in how far they are illusion. I will now give a concrete instance, verified by Spiritual Science, which has an important bearing on this point.

Human life changes with respect to many things, but certain fundamental facts of life remain constant for long periods. In the Middle Ages there existed a certain fear, the so-called fear of spirits, of all sorts of elemental beings and ghosts; this we now call mediaeval superstition. In our day the object has changed, but not the fear; for just as the people of the Middle Ages were afraid of ghosts-—those of the present time are afraid of bacilli and similar things. It might be said that ghosts are more respectable and more to be feared than bacilli. The change has come about through the fact that formerly people were of a more spiritual disposition; they were afraid of the elemental spirit-beings; while now as the disposition is more materialistic, the spirits must be of a physical nature. This corresponds better with the age of materialism. What I wanted to say, however, is that Occult Science reveals the fact that bacilli are nourished in the human body if they are to thrive. Human beings do cultivate them. Of course everyone in the present time will say that it would be silly to breed bacilli. This is not a question of principle of any kind, but of looking at things from the right standpoint. It cannot be denied that, as Spiritual Science teaches, an Ego and astral body which have been fed on materialistic ideas alone, and have rejected all spiritual conceptions and wished to have nothing to do with them, when they leave the body during sleep, send into the bodily organs forces from the spiritual spheres which are just what the bacilli need. Nothing better can be done for the rearing of bacilli than to carry crude material ideas into sleep-life; thereby calling forth Ahrimanic forces which stream into the body and become the cultivators of bacilli.

To form a proper judgment of all this, we must understand clearly that the moment we turn to the study of spiritual life, we immediately have to consider what is called human fellowship. For a common co-operation in fellowship is effectual in a far greater measure when working at spiritual matters than when only concerned with the physical plane. We might say that in order to have no harmful bacilli in our bodies, it is best to apply the remedy of falling asleep with spiritual thoughts in our minds. Perhaps that might become a remedy, if it were to be medically proved, so that the most materialistic people in times to come would allow spiritual thoughts to be prescribed for them; and something contributing to spiritual life might be hoped for in this way. But the matter is not so simple, for the importance of communal life really begins when we touch spiritual matters, and there we can say: it is perhaps of no advantage to the individual to cherish spiritual ideas if all those around him are breeding bacilli by their materialistic thinking; here the one breeds for the other. This is an important fact and we must bear it in mind. Therefore I must again emphasize what I have already told you, that Spiritual Science can only be fruitful in its service to humanity when it does not merely serve the individual. It is not enough for the individual to accept it; Spiritual Science must patiently wait until it can become a factor in civilization, until it grips the heart and soul of the many; then we shall see what it can do for man.

There is, however, something which affects the Ahrimanic beings in the bacilli just as strongly. I say Ahrimanic beings, for I can easily show you the difference between Ahrimanic and other beings—and even externally it can be easily seen. Around us we see Nature with her many creatures; all that lives outside in Nature draws its life from the good, wise and progressive beings. Everything having its existence in other organisms and preferring to thrive therein belongs to the creatures of a Luciferic or Ahrimanic order. All parasites are of Luciferic or Ahrimanic origin; if we remember this we can easily distinguish the differences in the nature-kingdoms. There is something, as I said, very helpful for Ahrimanic creatures when they infest the human body. Suppose we are living at the time of an epidemic or plague. Naturally at such a time we must look after others, and a strong human fellowship or co-operation comes into being, for the karmic conditions may actually be such that the one who in his individual life seems least likely to have the illness, falls a prey to it. Nevertheless—we must not be deceived by appearances—what I am going to say is generally true. If we are living among the sick or dying and have to absorb these pictures that are around us and then fall asleep with these pictures in our minds and if nothing is linked with them but selfish fear, the imaginations arising from these pictures in the soul during sleep become filled with this selfish fear, and that enables injurious forces to enter the human body. Imaginations of fear are really the fostering forces for the Ahrimanic enemies of man. When a noble disposition is present, so that egotistic fear retires and loving help for others prevails, and we pass into the sleep life, not with fearful imaginations but with the effects produced by loving help, this means destruction for the Ahrimanic enemies of humanity. It is quite true that by the encouragement of such an attitude we could put an end to epidemics, if we regulated our conduct accordingly.

Here I may indicate how some day (but it cannot be yet) the results of knowledge of spiritual life will be seen in the social life of humanity: human souls will become strong through spiritual knowledge, and those whose disposition is to accept spiritual Knowledge will work healingly on material life on earth.

Hence we see how unjustifiable the objection is, that while living on earth we need not bother about spiritual life. A great deal depends upon the kind of spiritual life we take with us into sleep while here on earth, for by it we mold our souls into good or bad instruments for the sending forth of forces from the spiritual world into those organs of the body which are not used as instruments by the soul in the day consciousness, but which function physically and chemically beneath the threshold of consciousness. Those functions which do not belong to the activity of nerves and blood in the human being but are simply of an organic nature-physical and chemical activity—those are not life functions such as obtain in the plant and mineral kingdoms, but functions into which the forces of the spiritual world flow during sleep. Therefore we see the importance of being able to carry spiritual knowledge into sleep life, and we realize the attitude of mind it creates. If there still is doubt as to the inter-working of the spiritual and physical worlds, we may, among other things, make the following remarks.

Let us imagine that some sort of climatic change were to corrupt the whole ground of the earth, so that nothing good for food could grow on it; we should then discover how important the earth's mineral and plant kingdoms are for man. If the earth were to decay under our feet, we should realize how much we need the lower kingdoms of earth, that human life may be sustained. What the ground and fruits are for our physical life that we are, as living beings with the activities of our souls, for those who have passed through the gates of death. It is a fact that the dead living in their sphere have need of a ground from which they may gather fruits. The following illustration will give an idea of this: Let us think of a crowd of people asleep, all filled with conceptions belonging to earthly life alone, materialistic ideas. This ground which they form for the dead, is just as sterile for them as waste, corrupt ground would be to us. The dead feel this as a region in which they starve.

Every spiritual conception which we take into our soul and carry into sleep helps, while we sleep, to create part of the ground needed by the dead, even as the mineral and plant kingdoms are needed by us. In a certain sense souls filled with spiritual ideas during sleep, form the fruitful spiritual basis for the nourishing of the dead; and we take away the nutriment which the dead need and which must be gathered on our earth, if we allow our souls to become desolate, i.e., empty of spiritual ideas—and conceptions. Here we see still more clearly the importance of cosmic spiritual knowledge, and its fruitfulness for the spiritual world itself. Just as our sleeping souls provide the ground from which the dead draw their sustenance, so, if we knowingly cause spiritual concepts to pass through our souls that helps the dead in their power of perception. For this reason I have advised those who have been bereaved to read to their dead. If we call them to mind, and read in thought something from Spiritual Science, or cause any other spiritual thoughts quietly to pass through our souls, our dead will perceive these. They observe them and are nourished by the unconscious after-effects of the spiritual ideas. Their own consciousness is refreshed or revived by means of what has been read to them. Here again we see constant intercourse between the physical and spiritual worlds. It may easily be suggested that the dead are in the spiritual world and that this method of reading can be of no use to them. Yes! They are in the spiritual world, but the concepts of Spiritual Science have to be formed on earth, and nowhere can they be conceived except in the minds of men on earth: the dead are indeed in a spiritual world and precisely there can these conceptions reach them and sustain them, and we enhance their consciousness if from earth we send these to them. As the most intimate connections exist between the dead and those amongst whom they have lived, the best persons to read to them are those who were friends and helpers before they died, or who have been closely related to them. If you cultivate such thoughts about the connections of the physical with the spiritual world, you will actually experience a new disposition, which truly in the greatest sense of the word must be called the religious disposition of the future. From such spiritual-scientific studies as have just been given, a disposition will be developed which in the highest sense deserves to be called religious, for he who thus acknowledges the spiritual world will build upon the foundations of the Divine Wisdom streaming through the Cosmos.

It is tremendously important that we should acquire this feeling of the ruling Wisdom in the Cosmos and that we should fill ourselves with it. When humanity is permeated by this feeling, it will, with a deep genuine confidence in the wise ruling Wisdom of the Universe, accept its destiny and all the strokes of destiny which are so hard to bear. When we observe the spiritual worlds in which the dead live, we can often see how much easier it is for the dead when the friends they left behind on earth are permeated with this ruling Wisdom of the Universe. Weeping over the dead is, of course, quite natural; but if we cannot put an end to our weeping it looks as though we doubted the ruling Wisdom of the Universe; and he who can look into spiritual worlds knows, that those who long for their dead to be here and not in the spiritual world, are doing the greatest harm to them. We very much help the dead in their life after death if we accept our destiny, and think of the dead as having been taken from us at the right moment by a good ruling Wisdom, because they were needed for other spheres of existence beyond earth. In the future much will depend on people helping more (not less) in all that touches the sorrows of humanity, having a clear knowledge that destiny is ever at work, and that if through Karma even death has befallen those who belong to them, this had to be. This must not prevent us, as long as a person is living, from doing all that is possible to help him when he is ill if he is amenable to treatment, but as human beings, we may not presume to go beyond what is allotted to us as such. We must be sure that the ruling Wisdom of the Universe is wiser than we are. This is all commonplace and trivial, but it is too little spoken of to-day. Great happiness would come to both the living and dead, if this knowledge were more generally circulated; if it could enter as a conviction into men's souls, if they could think of the dead as living, as having experienced a transformation of life, and not think of them as having been taken from them.

If we only observed a little of this connection between the physical and spiritual worlds, we should see the manifold ways in which the one world is intimately linked with the other, and that the affairs of the physical world only become clear when observed in the light of the spiritual world. If with reference to anything that happens to us in the physical world we could but succeed in finding the spiritual causes of some stroke of fate or misfortune, we should look beyond it, and understand that what seems supremely sad may be understood at the fount of Cosmic Wisdom. We must emphasize this over and over again. It does not alter the fact that much suffering may come to us; but it does alter our attitude to it, we do not sink under it and shut ourselves egotistically in our sorrow, or withdraw from the world's life, which we certainly ought not to do. Many other things are similarly linked together and precisely these significant incidents teach us the falsity of the saying that we need not trouble about the spiritual life during our physical life on earth. For the bringing of spiritual ideas, feelings and convictions into physical earth-life is of great importance. Let me now add some examples to what I have told you to-day. Examples will show us clearly the truth of what I have been saying.

A person well-known to some of the members of our Society died before attaining middle age. If a person dies early in life, about the beginning of the thirties, it is often asked: What is the meaning of this? Why should a person be cut off from earth life in the first third of his physical life on earth? When we traced this person back, to describe what she was as an individual, we came to an earlier incarnation about the third or fourth century after Christ, in which she had acquired certain forces, of which we may say that, civilization being as it was at that time, these and similar soul-capacities did not really belong to that period. The time had not arrived when the talents then acquired by the soul of this individual could be used. She was born again in a new life, became one of our members and died before the first half of her life, the ascending part, had been completed. In this case we could immediately see, on studying the whole connection of the physical with the spiritual, that this person was one of the most important and significant workers with us in all our Cosmic work.

Materialism is rampant in our times, it puts its stamp on earth-life more than we realize. In our day particularly, materialism is so strong that those beings of the higher Hierarchies whose task it is to carry on the progress of Cosmic evolution actually cannot rescue all the souls who have to-day become materialistic. These must not be left behind, they must be saved; yet their salvation can only be accomplished by the death of certain souls at an early age, who take with them into the spiritual world the forces which would otherwise have been used in the course of their earth-life, and which they then transmute so that they may help the beings of the higher Hierarchies who are working for the redemption of the materialistically-minded souls. Persons who have thus died early in life, are a wonderful help to the higher beings. Now in the case of the soul to which I am referring, something special resulted. She brought with her into her latest incarnation the powers which could not be fully used in her earlier life, poured them as it were into her body, which became weak and ill because of the penetration of these forces. The soul was too powerful for the body; it really contained very great powers. This person died at the above mentioned early age, and, with the forces which instead of being weakened by age remained at their youthful strength, she passed through the gates of death into the spiritual world, still possessing the fund of strength which would have served a long life in that incarnation, and filled to overflowing with earthly force would have so poured itself into the body, as to bring the same into relationship with the external world. Instead she was able to take up spiritual ideas enthusiastically and thus to bring a great supply into the spiritual world. When we trace this individual, who was dear to a large number of our friends, we may learn a great deal from her. What we see in her is, that at a definite time (in this case about the Third or Fourth Century A.D.) certain forces appeared on the path of human evolution which could not be brought to fulfillment then, and that the work to be done through these forces must be taken up later—we have to look back to what belongs to an earlier period and is preserved by certain individuals for a later life. Now when we look for this individual during her life after death we observe direct results—we see that the powers which have lain dormant for a time, reserved for a coming period, now burst forth and are preparing for humanity's future. Thus we see how a later life must be linked with an earlier one, when talking of human evolution. We could not know certain things, of which it may be said that what had existed in the third and fourth epochs had to be revived in the fifth post Atlantean times, unless we could see into the spiritual worlds and say: ‘There we see an individuality who, by means of a short life on earth, acquired faculties which shine forth like a revival of something that has been lost to human life.’ A great inflow of strength comes to the spiritual investigator on observing such individuals in their life after death.

If the time of physical life on earth were ever so bad, if ever so many enemies were to arise against Spiritual Science, and if danger threatened on all sides, it would certainly be a sad and desperate outlook; but there is one thing which may always be a comfort for the future of Anthroposophy, that is, that in those who have died, in such a way as the person above mentioned, we have the best helpers for our earth, the most powerful fellow-workers. This is a case in which a short life on earth served for the gathering of strength with which to take possession of certain fruitful forces requisite for a later period on the path of human evolution. The wise ruling Cosmic powers far surpass in Wisdom all that we, with our merely earthly wisdom, can comprehend. Naturally such fruits of a shortened earth-life can only result when life is shortened in a purely natural way. In anthroposophical circles it should not be necessary to mention that such results do not occur in cases of suicides, and would be quite impossible.

Now, having said all this, I shall give you another concrete example in reference to a member who has not long since passed from our midst, who had a very long illness, which was connected in a remarkable way with his condition of soul, a lively intellectual person, a renowned poet in his earth life and as we can clearly see, a much more important individual than we had deemed while observing his life on earth. After a life lived in sickness of body and long years of suffering, how strangely the fruits of his suffering on earth, after a relatively short period, reveal themselves in the spiritual world; though only in their beginning. That I may make you understand what I want to say, I should like to lead up to the right concept by means of a comparison.

With deep feeling we can admire nature—a scene in nature or a group of people-but we do not on that account lose anything when a clever artist comes along and depicts the scene as his own soul sees it. We then find in the picture created by the artist something which he has placed alongside nature. We know that we have gained by having looked at Nature through another's soul as well, if we can observe nature side by side with it. Why do I say this? To make use of an illustration: we can go into the spiritual world, we can observe things there; yet it is of great importance to observe something else besides. The person to whom I am referring, who died after a life of much suffering on earth, had during his long illness formed for himself a world of Cosmic imaginations, as it were lifting them up out of a sick body gradually approaching death. In the measure in which the body became more sick and incapacitated, there arose from it this world of Cosmic imaginations. That person then passed through the gates of death, and his imaginations are beginning to shine out in wondrous beauty so that in the spiritual world they can be perceived as a wonderful spiritual work of art, as if created out of the Cosmos. They had their origin in the sick body, and were carried from the sick body into the spiritual world; and for those who are able to see the spiritual worlds in other ways they provide a far richer gain in spiritual knowledge than can be acquired by direct spiritual observation; as in a work of art one sees the world as another soul sees it, side by side with what one sees oneself. The above-mentioned person absorbed spiritual conceptions with great devotion, and was even able to put into his poems much of that which comes to the human soul when it grasps the Mystery of Golgotha in a truly Anthroposophical way, when we allow ourselves to be permeated with the thought of the Christ Whom we have learnt to know through Anthroposophy. For we then so recognize Him in our nature, that we really live according to the Pauline saying ‘Not I, but Christ in me contemplates the Universe.’

These truly Rosicrucian Christian thoughts flowed into the later poems of this personality. While his conscious earth-life was occupied with such poetry and creating these poems, his subconscious powers were molding this world of Cosmic imaginations which really consumed the body by the strength of their inner life, but which so worked that to this person in the spiritual world is probably allotted a task about which I will not speak further now. In any case it must be said that behind this conscious life lies another which passes through the gates of death and so manifests that we know it had already been prepared during earth-life through the disposition which is the result of Spiritual Science, and which has turned into beautiful tableaux of Cosmic imaginations which radiate toward the exploring spiritual investigator, and explain much that perhaps would not otherwise have been so easy to discover, but which will continue to work in the tasks which will be allotted to such an individual.

We must regard such results of Spiritual Science with awe and deep reverence. For if in past times the religious sense of the soul had to be aroused through feeling, in the times in which we now live spirituality must be kindled more and more in man through the inter-working of the physical and spiritual worlds, we must become more and more concrete in our spiritual life. In the future, humanity cannot be prevented from seeking the spiritual in a concrete way, and from thinking about how a human individual continues to work on after death with the forces which, as in this case, were prepared before he had passed through the gates of death.

What depths will be found in human life, how noble will be the feelings with which one human being confronts another I They will in the true sense of the word be moral, and filled with the Divine essence which will then be weaving and working in human life, when the thoughts which speak of the dead in as concrete a way as we now speak of the living, find a home in the hearts of men.

We must think of all this, that we may gain in our hearts and souls a proper sense of the mission and work of Anthroposophy in the future.

I should like you to ponder over the things I have said in the last part of this lecture, regarding them as really springing from that attitude towards Spiritual Science which can only speak of such matters in sacred modesty and with deep reverence, and with this feeling I should like to leave in your souls what I have said.

Tomorrow I shall tell you of other facts, for the stimulation of Spiritual Science in your hearts.

Yesterday we spoke of the relation of the spiritual world to the physical world, as expressed by the actual facts which, in a sense work from one world into the other, in so far as the relation between them means something to life in the physical world, in so far as the filling of the soul with feelings and emotions gained through spiritual knowledge is essential and of significance for human life. Something of a general nature must now be added. Here in the physical world we acquire our ideas through our sense perceptions, through the feelings and emotions experienced when events of physical life touch us. Our conscious life in the physical world arises from all these things, and when we observe that life in the physical world, it seems to the vision of the spiritual investigator that in the main, the more this consciousness serves the physical plane the less are its chances of spiritual experiences in the spiritual world ever surrounding us. We may say: the more a man limits himself to his life of ideas and feelings, allowing these to be aroused by the physical plane alone, the less inner strength and power he possesses for gaining a real relationship with the spiritual world. Of course at first a person does not notice that reliance on merely physical ideas is a hindrance to the gaining of a relationship with the spiritual world; but he is compelled to notice it when he has passed through the gates of death; for if during earth-life a man has gained no conceptions beyond the excitements and requirements of the physical plane, his soul is too weak to adapt itself to the experiences of the spiritual world. This can easily be seen when we remember that all that excites us on the physical plane really storms in upon us and so approaches us that we allow ourselves to be captivated by it. Because we allow ourselves to be thus captivated, because we more or less yield ourselves to its influence, we develop too little power in our souls for the spiritual world to mean more to us than a weak dreamy world in which we can neither stir nor move. In order to be able to move freely in that world, something else is needed: viz., that the soul should be inwardly alive, that it should have evolved within itself, by its own efforts, forces to which it had not been incited externally and in which it does not merely remain passive. Out of the depths of our souls such conceptions, such feelings must arise without any incitement from the external world,—however beautiful we may consider that world to be. I may say: Conceptions and feelings arising freely in the soul can alone make it strong enough to establish its own relationship with the spiritual world—a relationship which it needs.

In order that you may properly understand this, I should like to refer to something which is correct though a seeming paradox. Think of a person yielding entirely to the allurements of the physical plane. He thinks and feels only that which is aroused by the physical plane. Such a person is weak in the spiritual world; when he enters the spiritual world after death he can through his own powers only look upon the richness of spiritual life around him, he cannot bring the beings near to him, though he greatly needs them. Spiritual intercourse with them eludes him. Not that the spiritual world is absent, but he cannot find the clues which would bring him into direct relationship with it. Speaking paradoxically, a person who only fantastically arouses ideas and feelings in his soul which, though they are not aroused from outside, yet do not rise above the sense world—this person, who thinks out ideas in a fanciful way thereby produces forces in his soul, which give a free ascending development, and he in a certain sense, finds life in the spiritual world easier than one who will not think at all about spiritual things. It is very significant that we have to grant that visionaries who form conceptions that have nothing to do with outer sense realities, and are only fanciful; nevertheless stand firmer in the spiritual world than those who will not think about it at all. Naturally such fantastic ideas, though they help a man to stand firmly in the spiritual world, only lead him to strange spiritual conditions and relations such as a man would experience in the physical world if his senses were not functioning properly. All the grotesque, lower beings, useless for spiritual life, would come to the person who formed such fantastic concepts; while all that is progressive and helpful in spirit-life would appear before his soul in distorted shape, if it had only been prepared for spirit life by fantastic conceptions. In olden times, before the Mystery of Golgotha took its place in human evolution, conditions were such that human beings could only have conceptions aroused in them from the physical plane; even those ideas which appeared as clairvoyant conceptions were aroused in the physical body. This is the curious part of humanity's ancient clairvoyance; this clairvoyance, these symbolic plastic ideas, although wholly relating to the spiritual world, were aroused through the influences of the physical plane. So that if people had only devoted themselves to the kind of conceptions which reached the level of ancient clairvoyance, they would be in the position of human beings, who look into the spiritual world by means of fantastic conceptions. In order that humanity might have a sound healthy insight into the spiritual world and develop the right relations with it, the various founders of religions appeared in antiquity, Laotze, Zarathustra, Krishna, Buddha, etc. these were very great benefactors of humanity. They appeared to their age and to their peoples, speaking to them of these secrets of the spiritual worlds, and so speaking of these secrets that the manner of their speaking was inspired by immediate impulses which came to them as Initiates and founders of religion out of the spiritual world itself. Through their mighty authority they influenced the people to whom they had a spiritual mission. Thus the people did not receive into their souls merely what came to them and stirred them on the physical plane, but also what was sent as a message from the spiritual worlds. These ancient peoples had the capacity of sensing and feeling when such a founder of religion appeared to them—or when one of his successors and disciples appeared; they perceived the breath of spiritual life which streamed through the soul of such a founder, flowing down from spiritual heights into the evolution of the people and the epoch. Thus to the people of antiquity were given thoughts and feelings which were put into their souls by the founders of religion, but which had to be re-awakened by each human being himself (because each was under the influence of the teacher's authority), each had to bring them to active life in his own soul. In this way arose healthy conditions and relationships for human beings in the spiritual worlds, and also the possibility of knowing where they were after they had passed through the gates of death; of possessing the forces which cannot be found in the external physical world, but must be awakened in the soul of the individual himself; of possessing those forces which enable a man to live in the spiritual world, just as by his physical forces he is able to live in the physical world. Since the Mystery of Golgotha many changes have taken place for humanity in this respect. This is precisely the significance of the Mystery of Golgotha; it closes the old epoch of human evolution and begins the new. We can say the old evolution had to be built on authority, as we have just described; on the authority of the religion-founders. But because these souls (our own souls) have in earlier incarnations been through the school of authority, they have become responsible or have come of age let us say; so that now, in the incarnations which have run their course since the Mystery of Golgotha, those impulses which formerly had to be received on authority are now received inwardly. Not only are conceptions now formed inwardly but also our impulses come from within. This is what St. Paul's words mean: ‘Not I, but Christ in me’; that is the meaning of the Mystery of Golgotha. The Christ-Impulse has flowed into the spiritual substance of the earth, and lives in each soul. Souls must learn to understand this Christ-Impulse, which is to be found in the human soul. Humanity has come ‘of age.’ Impulses which formerly had to come from without, must now spring up within. For this reason Christ came to earth. Greater and greater must our understanding of this Christ become. What we gather from our anthroposophical knowledge, what we try to understand about the evolution of the world and of humanity, about the higher worlds and the Hierarchies in those worlds, really brings us at the last to understand more and more the Christ-Impulse which is within us, but which may also remain hidden within us, as do many other things which we do not attempt to understand or to experience. In a certain respect Spiritual Science is a means of attaining what must be reached—of really finding in our souls that which is the Light of Life, the Inner Warmth of life; that Light and Warmth which will lead humanity to its spiritual home, and which is revealed in the soul. In future evolution, human souls will gradually realize that it is simply an abstract idea to speak of ‘the God within,’ if the soul is too easy-going to concern itself with the understanding of the teachings of Spiritual Science. How do we to-day regard the spiritual world in its reality? All that has been written about Spiritual Science, about Saturn, Sun, and Moon, the evolutionary epochs of earth, about the heavenly Hierarchies and all that the spiritual investigator knows and says about the spiritual world, all this he ultimately realizes is a gift to him through the Christ-Impulse which has entered earth evolution. He realizes this Christ-Impulse in such a way that he sees the truth of Christ's words, ‘I am with you always, even to the end of the earth-period.’ Not only at the beginning of our epoch did Christ say this; if we noisy open our souls to Him He is saying it now, here, and in our Spiritual Science, which we must try to spread all over the world. Therefore it is so very necessary that present-day souls should understand that Spiritual Science is the suitable way and the right path into the spiritual worlds for our time. Humanity having come ‘of age’ must consciously develop thoughts and feelings, must seek step by step, of its own powers and not by external authority, to enter the spiritual worlds. Christ has come into the world that humanity may be able to do this. Even though many assert to-day that Spiritual Science must be believed because it is taught by the spiritual investigator—this is not true. If anyone thinks he must believe what Spiritual Science says, without understanding it by the efforts of his own soul-faculties, these only shows that he has not laid aside the prejudices of his materialistic thinking. Anyone who, with a truly open mind, approaches the most daring teachings of Anthroposophy can understand and grasp them. Souls have not passed through their former incarnations in vain; they can find within their souls the inward spiritual language wherewith to understand what the spiritual investigators say. Of course if these souls allow their minds to become clouded, as they are to-day, not by a true Natural Science but by a mistaken outlook on nature, if they allow mist upon mist to accumulate before their spiritual eyes and then say: ‘We do not understand Anthroposophy, we must only believe its statements,’ this does not mean that Anthroposophy cannot really be understood, for it happens that in such a case people create their own hindrances to it. We live in an age when most people never notice how many hindrances there are and how these hindrances can block their path; but we also are living in a century which unconsciously, from its as yet chaotic soul-force, rises in revolt against these hindrances, when longings are arising in the souls of men for an understanding of the spiritual worlds.

Truly of tremendous importance is the work accomplished by Natural Science during the last few centuries, and our friends know how often I emphasize the great significance of the triumphs of Natural Science, and how I compare the present and future work of Anthroposophy with what Natural Science has discovered, especially during the nineteenth century; but we must bear in mind that this Natural Science has become much more dogmatic than the old religions. To-day, people—and mostly those who take up Natural Science as amateurs—stick to dogmas more rigidly and seriously than was the case with the old religious dogmas. Truly the Copernican views represented a great swing of the pendulum; they had to come, they were a step towards the truth, as I have often said; but, they too are in many respects one-sided and must be completed by a spiritual conception of the Universe. If they are held as dogmatically as they are being expressed if it is said that they are absolutely true, they will then force concepts into men's souls which will prevent them from understanding and grasping Spiritual Science. We can even now see the effects of these dogmatic assertions. In our present age of compulsory education children are taught from their earliest years to imagine the sun with the earth revolving around it, also the planets, just as one forms an imagination, if one has in front of one a model. But no one has any right to picture it thus, as if these things were absolute certainties; as though one were able to place a chair in Cosmic space, set oneself down, and from it watch the movements of Sun, earth, and planets as one looks at a model which one sets up in the schoolroom. In these children's souls a consciousness is awakened that the facts really are such. People are amazed when we speak of these matters. Other things are also experienced today, which are false when looked at in another light. During the last few days an apparently very aspiring man sent me a pamphlet. Nothing shall be said here as to whether its contents were right or wrong, but this pamphlet is one proof among many others, of the way in which the human soul revolts against the dogmatism of the Natural Science of the last century; for this writer tries to prove mathematically that the earth is flat, not round. Of course this assertion seems very absurd in our age, and you will naturally say: ‘But a man can easily sail right round the world, therefore the man who says the earth is flat and not round must be a fool.’ The man who wrote the pamphlet knew this however. We need not agree with him, but he knew this and many another valid objections, I assure you. By all this I am only trying to show that in our day souls are already beginning to rise in revolt against all the dogmatic Natural Science stuff which has been piled up in their souls from earliest childhood and which hinders them from exercising the free, judgment which is necessary for the recognition of anthroposophical truths. When humanity has set itself free from dogma, then—yes then, the time will come when we can speak of spiritual scientific knowledge and it will be said; I see that it could not be otherwise. You see, much that is paradoxical must be said now in speaking of the relation of Spiritual Science to our age. Spiritual Science, however, has gradually to flow into human souls, so that they may become ever greater and greater factors in the spiritual civilization of humanity as it progresses into the future. Anthroposophy itself will be able to strengthen them, so that these souls will be enabled to find their links with the spiritual world. Spiritual Science will be welcomed by human beings, will be gradually received by the youngest and they will know: ‘Around me are not only mountains, rivers, clouds, stars, sun, moon, planets, animals and minerals, but also spiritual beings, beings of the higher Hierarchies, and spiritual events, even -as we have around us physical events and processes. I have relationship with both spiritual and physical processes.’

Let me picture a few things which will gradually be more understood by human souls when Spiritual Science becomes a living factor in the soul of man.

In speaking of these things we must start with concrete facts of spiritual research, for they best show man's relation to the spiritual world.

I know a man who, in his twenty-third or twenty-fourth year, had a kind of vision. He wrote about this vision in a clumsy way, we may even say stupidly. The vision was this: He placed into a sort of scene, very awkwardly, the more important spirits of the German intellectual period of the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries; he did not know why he arranged it so-everything that Goethe, Lessing, Schiller, Herder were doing—but they were doing it after they had already passed to the world to which a human enters after death. Thus he had a vision of these great men living in the spiritual world he saw in his vision what they were now doing. As Spiritual Scientists we must ask: ‘What does such a vision signify? What does it show us?’ It shows the soul as having been greatly permeated by certain influences from the spiritual world, they press into it and become as it were a great dream, which expresses itself in such a way that the soul sees in vision, though indistinctly, its own inner feelings and impressions. Influences work into the soul from the spiritual world. How do they work? What is the actual relationship of the human soul to the beings of the spiritual world, for even the dead are beings in the spiritual world during the period between death and a new birth? What is this relationship? Well, we see an object in the physical world if we look at it—that is the right expression to use; I see the rose, I see the table. It is, however, not right to speak in the same way when referring to spiritual beings. It is not correct. The expression is not quite accurate if we say: I see a being belonging to the ranks of the Angels or Archangels. The expression is not correct; it must be put in a different way. As soon as a human being enters the spiritual world and there has feelings and experiences, instead of his seeing the beings there, they look at him; he is aware of them. He feels the quiet soothing influence of their spiritual senses and forces, which illuminate and resound in his own soul. And we must actually say of the spiritual world, ‘It is not I who see or perceive, but I know that I am seen, that I am perceived.’ Can you feel the change of experience indicated here? When, instead of using the words as in the physical world: ‘I perceive something,’ the other words receive a meaning: ‘Placed as I am in the spiritual world, I am perceived from all sides, that is now my life.’ The ‘Ego’ knows of this ‘being perceived,’ of this ‘being carried away by the experiences which other beings have with me.’ When this change takes place, you have an inkling of what a different relation the soul has to its environment when it rises from the physical into the spiritual world. It will then dawn upon you that a soul's experience is actually different when it passes from the physical to the spiritual world. A part of the task given to the dead is, to turn their glances earthwards, towards those still living; that they may, with their spiritual forces observe them; that those still living on earth may be perceived by the souls of the dead. Humanity will learn through Spiritual Science the meaning of the words: ‘Those who have passed through the gates of death see me; they send their forces down to me.’ Human beings will thus learn to speak of the dead as alive, as spiritually living. The one who had the vision described, realized this relation, though very dimly—for truly Lessing, Goethe, Schiller, Herder are not inactive after death; in the spiritual they occupy themselves with those who are still on earth; they watch them, perceive them, stimulate them, according to the measure of the forces they receive from the higher Hierarchies. Thus the man who had this vision felt, without being conscious of the feeling, that he was watched by the spirits who had been sent to aid the evolution of humanity. This may not have been clear, but it expressed itself in the vision which he then put into awkward words, saying that Lessing ‘like a marshal in the spirit world went first,’ followed by Goethe, Schiller and Herder, leading and guiding their successors living on earth.

When such a vision, arising chaotically and as if in a dream, presents itself clearly to the soul, it may mean something for the dreamer; it may mean for instance that his consciousness is directly stirred from the spiritual world so that he can rise to the thought: ‘What I say and do, I will so say and do that I can endure the dead looking down upon me.’ It may also happen that a person living on earth, who is inwardly aroused by a similar vision, feels some task to lie before him, whether small or great, and his power, courage, and energy will be strengthened, his conscience will become easier when he has come to the right conclusion and imagines: ‘The dead are helping me, by watching me.’

Thus can the dead help the living? Through anthroposophy, we learn to feel the responsibility of our actions towards the dead and we may also have the happy feeling: ‘While I am doing this or that, my dead friend with his active power is watching me, and his force is added to mine.’ Not that he gives us the strength—which we must develop ourselves; he does not give us our faculties, those we must already possess; but he is a real help as if he were standing just behind us. He really does stand there. I shall give you a concrete example: for after we have for so long carried on together this anthroposophical work, we may bring forward such examples; perhaps they may sound personal, but they are meant quite impersonally, they set forth only facts and may on that account be mentioned as examples.

In Munich we tried for many years to perform the Mystery Plays, and so arrange the scenes that spiritual force might stream through them into this side of our movement. I am conscious that at any rate the really essential things which were done, those which really mattered, were in complete accord with the spiritual world. Over and over again I went to my work in those days, when the plays were being prepared for the stage, with a definite consciousness. At the commencement of our anthroposophical activity, when we were quite a small society, there was a person among us who was very enthusiastic about Spiritual Science; a person who besides working with quiet enthusiasm in all that could be done in the beginning as regards anthroposophy, introduced into its whole management a wonderfully beautiful and artistic understanding and interest. She was a person who united great kindliness of personal action with great seriousness in her spiritual views. She was soon taken from us, from the physical plane. Not only does she remain what is usually called ‘never to be forgotten’ by us, but she became what a human individual can become, who, by dint of circumstances, is able only in the spiritual world to build up what in physical life has been so beautifully prepared and begun here with many latent powers that she is able to develop in the spiritual world. Many years can be thus spent and many years passed in this case, until the possibility was unfolded, as it were out of a sort of chrysalis condition, for this person to link herself with what was germinating here in the physical world. As if through destiny, it happened that she entered upon a free spiritual life in the spiritual world, a life which had acquired this wonderful power of working, just when we had to undertake our staging, when Karma had led us to that point. Of course we had to bring our own powers and spiritual faculties to the work, but, just as no matter how strong the spiritual powers at our disposal, we must bring our physical abilities to bear when we have physical tasks to accomplish, so must certain forces intervene from the spiritual world, when we have spiritual work to do. Spiritual help, spiritual support must come to us; it comes also to those who cannot see into spiritual worlds, although they are unconscious of it, for we are always being influenced and helped by the spiritual world. In the case of which I speak, it is a fact that I always had the consciousness that the individual to whom I refer was watching over and helping us. We felt this watching as a strengthening force; as a kindling of warmth in our souls, enabling us to carry out our task.

Thus must we describe the way in which the spiritual worlds and the beings living in them—among whom are our dead—work with us in the physical world, and how true is the saying: ‘We are perceived by those in the spiritual world who have developed connections with us.’

There will come a time when human life will be enriched through such events as we have indicated when we shall not merely possess memory pictures in our minds of our dead friends, but shall feel them as real helpers in our undertakings. The souls of our dead will then live on in our consciousness, the consciousness of the human being on earth; although it may seem that the relationship is cut off by death. We can quite understand that this is now only possible for the few, and can understand why. It is because spiritual scientific development is only at its beginning; it has not yet produced in souls the capacities and powers that can act freely.

The road to such conceptions as I have mentioned may be the following: it certainly will be so for many souls in the future. We may think of the dead, while at our daily work here on earth. We may awaken in our souls all the love we had for them, and one day the moment will certainly come, it need not be in a vision—truly it need not be in a vision—when an impression comes to us: ‘Yes the one who died is helping me, as if he were working through my hands and fingers, as if he kindled my ardor for the work. I feel his force within me.’ This clear feeling that spiritual influences work down from spiritual worlds is a fruit, a real living fruit, which comes to souls through Spiritual Science.

Now let us think of the great enrichment that will come to human lives when they are not only aware of what is revealed to their senses, but also have the consciousness impressed upon them (not necessarily in vision) in all their physical work and undertakings: ‘While you are busy and at work, this or that dear one who had been your helper or your protector in life, shields you, helps you still, through powers he did not possess in his physical life, but for which he could only prepare here to be able to exercise them in the spirit world.’ Truly, even as our physical health is refreshed when we inhale the fresh morning air, so will human souls feel refreshed for their spiritual life by breathing in the protecting help they will then be able to perceive and feel coming to them, or even from the gaze directed towards them by the beings in the spiritual worlds. We are looking into a future of humanity which is to be prepared by the culture of Spiritual Science, and which will be much richer than the present life of man. Man will, however, need this enrichment from the spiritual world—for have we not said the old dreamy clairvoyance of antiquity was stimulated in the physical body—but the physical body has changed. It is now only suited for giving to human beings their physical thoughts, thoughts aroused on the physical plane. We must acquire thoughts about the spiritual world through Spiritual Science. Ever less will be the knowledge of spiritual worlds which can be gained by man from the physical plane, the physical body will become more powerless; and as all that is physical originates in the spiritual, and the longing of the soul for a real connection with the spiritual world will become greater and greater.

In olden times something was given to man by his physical nature which flashed into his soul as it were from the workings of his physical body, so that he became clairvoyant. Now we may say: the time has come when human beings will gradually know more of spiritual things, and these must be ever more and more brought down from the spiritual worlds, but the transition must not pass unnoticed. We must gain knowledge of the path which leads into the spiritual world through Anthroposophy. We must not evade the difficulties and inconveniences which a soul may feel when it seeks step by step for knowledge of what happens in the spiritual worlds. It is perhaps very uncomfortable to strain our intellect, our powers of reason, our sense of truth, sufficiently; but we must face this inconvenience. The anthroposophical movement, to which we belong, exists for this. Anthroposophy must gradually cause us to see: By their repeated earth-lives human souls are moving forward, they are being changed; and we are living in the age when human beings must go into the spiritual worlds with understanding. It would not be right if in our Society in particular there were not a growing understanding for the fact, that a man who, without having experienced Spiritual Science, still has the old clairvoyant powers arising out of his body, cannot stand higher than one who with intellectual ideas and understanding learns of what can be communicated about spiritual worlds. Human beings are so easily deceived, led away by their sense of ease not to try to exert their soul's activity, not to strain their powers of perception and observation. Naturally these must be exerted if we wish to live in the spirit of Anthroposophy, but humanity is tempted not to make these efforts. Therefore people are gradually forced to value more highly the mental and psychic forces arising as if out of the body, stimulated by the hidden bodily forces. Indeed we may actually hear people say: ‘What you are trying to make comprehensible about the spiritual worlds is not what we are really seeking, we are not impressed by it; we want to experience the incomprehensible.’ People are much more inclined to accept what cannot be understood than to exert themselves to seek what can be grasped spiritually. This then leads to the fact that there exists what we may call a complete misunderstanding of the true spiritual task of the present; if any one comes forward possessing natural psychic powers without anthroposophical training, people say he is very wonderful, and they put a special halo round his head. Because, they say, we do not know whence his powers come, because he has not been trained through Spiritual Science, and has not made efforts, therefore his powers are so very valuable; another world makes itself evident in our world through him. Truly our Movement would not reach its goal if it did not soon overcome this prejudice. We can often hear it said: This or that man must be the reincarnation of a great individual; he must have been so and so, because he possesses these forces, these chaotic psychic forces, without having worked for them in the present life by means of a really active struggling soul-life. Rather we ought to feel sure that the man who reveals such psychic forces within himself, is a backward soul; one who has remained behind at an earlier stage of evolution, and who must be raised and nurtured in the present age through Spiritual Science. Those who have had the most important incarnations in earlier times, appear to-day more like one of whom we shall be speaking tomorrow, the anniversary of Christian Morgenstern's death, as having powers which, unfortunately, are less valued perhaps by many than is a kind of chaotic psychism, but which are fruits of much higher spiritual forces, even though to-day they are represented as of little value, because they are not understood.

In these two lectures I have attempted partly from concrete facts to put before you a picture of the interpenetration of the spiritual world into the physical, and the working of the physical world into the spiritual. I have tried to show you how unjustifiable it is for people to say that it is useless to trouble about the spiritual world while living on the physical plane. I have tried to show how the very reason why our physical life cannot be understood is that we are not conscious of the concrete inter-working of the spiritual world into our physical world. Not that we receive our knowledge from the spiritual world alone—that is not the point; this knowledge has to be there, we must make it our own because it is truth revealed to us from spiritual worlds and is the key to the understanding and experiencing of the world. This knowledge must, however, lead us to an inner mood, an inner feeling, a kind of ‘knowing oneself to be within the spiritual world.’ Then through the new Spiritual Science there comes into our souls what such an important spirit as Fichte said, and which I have mentioned in a public lecture and shall repeat here. There comes into our souls that at which Fichte could do no more than hint. I know that I speak in the same sense as he did when I add a few words to his, for the understanding of which he still works, from out the spiritual worlds. Thus said the great philosopher Johann Gottlieb Fichte, during his earth life:

The super-earthly will not come to me only when I have lost my connection with earth life. Even now I live in the supersensible world, in it I live a truer life than I do in the sense-world, it is my only firm standpoint; and in that I possess the supersensible world, I possess that for the sake of which alone I would like to continue my life on earth.

‘What you call heaven,’ says Fichte ‘does not only lie on the other side of the grave. It is everywhere around us in Nature, and springs up in every loving heart.’ ‘Now,’ we understand Fichte to mean, as he speaks to us from the spiritual world.

Anthroposophy, as it blossoms in this age and is to become a germ within humanity, shall be the light which strengthens the feelings and emotions for the spiritual life which springs forth in every loving heart. The loving heart will increasingly beget longings for the spiritual world, and Anthroposophy will more and more have to demand this light from the spiritual world for its own possession.

In saying this we are certainly speaking in agreement with those who have died before us, who longed for the spiritual world. While lifting ourselves up into this world, we are truly in harmony with the Cosmic Wisdom which governs human evolution, in so far as we can understand and recognize it with our human powers.

There is a very witty man who has made a remarkable statement about all human philosophizing. He said in a recently published work, which discusses at length the impossibility and futility of all human philosophizing: Man has no more philosophy than an animal and differs from the animal only in that he makes frantic attempts to arrive at a philosophy and must finally admit to himself that he has to resign, must end in not knowing. — There is much in this book, which is otherwise very readable, that basically brings together everything that can be said against philosophy. The person in question has become a professor of philosophy at a university for this reason. I will quote a saying of this man, which deals with the human view of nature. The saying is quite radical. The gentleman in question says that nature is mysterious on all sides, and that if man really feels the mysteriousness of nature on all sides, he cannot help but realize the infinite smallness of his own being. Nature expands immeasurably in its eternity, and we should actually feel that we stand there with our notions and ideas about nature, holding our tongues! I quote, and it can be said that the saying is not entirely inaccurate, that when we look at nature, we as human beings do indeed feel how little what we can grasp in our thoughts, even when we are engaged in the most brilliant natural science, actually corresponds to the great, immeasurable secrets of nature. And if we did not feel that the thought — which nature itself cannot bring forth, but which can only be generated in the human mind — stands face to face with nature, if we did not know that this thought corresponds to a human need, if we did not feel that in the something of our entire human destiny and human development lies in the reign of thought over nature, we need it as the seed needs the plant, we would actually not know, with careful inner self-knowledge, why we reflect on nature. We reflect on nature for our own sake and know that when we are confronted with nature, we are actually quite far from it with our thoughts. So one feels when contemplating nature.

If one feels towards the spiritual life, the supersensible life, then one must say differently. No matter how insignificant, childlike this supersensible life may be when it presents itself in us, one feels an inner necessity to also express what the spirit reveals to one in the soul. And although one must feel the most intense responsibility towards everything one expresses in the spirit, everything one can speak out of the supersensible, everything one can bring to light in the soul, one feels that one must follow this, that one must express it out of an inner necessity, just as one grows as a child or as one learns to speak itself. Thus, one feels oneself to be in a very different position with regard to the sensual and the supersensible.

A third thing is what one can call: reflection or expression about art. When one wants to express oneself about art, one feels neither the sense of being on the sidelines, which one always feels when pondering nature, nor does one feel that sense of necessity that overcomes one when faced with the inner revelations of the supersensible. Rather, when one tries to express oneself about art, one has the feeling that one is actually constantly interfering with the thought one is developing. In terms of artistic enjoyment, thought is actually a real troublemaker. And when it comes to anything related to art, you always want to stop thinking and talking and enjoy the art in silence. If, for whatever reason, you do want to talk about art, you don't want to do it from the perspective of an aesthetics professor or, even worse, an art critic. Not from the point of view of an art critic, because it seems superfluous to lecture on why you liked a particular dish after having eaten a series of dishes. You just want to say what you yourself can experience in art, in terms of joy, edification and so on, just as you feel the need to talk about what you have experienced with a dear friend. Out of a certain abundance of the heart, not out of a critical sense, one wants to talk about art, and one does not want to claim that what one has to say somehow expresses something lawful or universally valid, but basically just a kind of subjective confession. But that seems to me to be a constant feeling when talking about art, that the thought actually bothers you, and this, in turn, seems to me to point to what art is essentially about.

Since we as human beings live primarily in the world of the senses, we can ask: What is the relationship between art and the sensual? — Or, since we as human beings can only perceive the world of the senses exhaustively if we have a relationship to the supernatural, we could also ask: What is the relationship between art and the supernatural? — Well, it seems to me that anyone who develops an elementary feeling for artistic creation must very soon come to the conclusion that art is not capable of representing the sensual as it directly surrounds us, nor is it capable of expressing thought.

In the face of sensuality, anyone with a sense of nature will always have the feeling that if one wants to depict it and create a kind of image of it, one cannot achieve nature as such, that nature is always more beautiful and more perfect than any image. In the face of the spiritual – world-view poetry or the like bears witness to this – one will have the feeling that, if one wants to represent it, one describes something straw-like and superfluous. World-view poetry has a pedantic, scholastic character under all circumstances; the allegorical-symbolic will always actually reject any true artistic feeling.

And so the question of the relationship between art and the sensual and the supersensual can seem like a vital question for art. Therefore, the question arises: Is there anything else, besides the sensual and the supersensual, that has something to do with the essential tasks of artistic creation and enjoyment? This question can only be answered by really delving into the soul process of artistic creation and enjoyment: how it cannot be described by legitimate aesthetics, but can only be experienced. When we face the world in our ordinary, sober, and at first glance inartistic lives, we are dealing, on the one hand, with sensory perception and, on the other, with what is produced in our own soul through sensory perception, with thought. To demand from nature such perception as it offers us, such as the depiction of a human being through art, seems to me, for the reasons given, to be something quite impossible and therefore superfluous. The desire to represent through art what direct perception of nature offers is actually always rooted in certain aberrations of art. On the other hand, however, it seems as if – perhaps this is a little strange, but one does experience it, as I have already indicated in relation to talking about art – in the actual process of artistic creation and enjoyment, one strives to eliminate thought as far as possible, to prevent it from arising in any way. This seems to me to be based on the fact that processes are constantly taking place in the human soul that can either flourish to their end or break off at some point. One can only follow these processes if, through spiritual observation of the soul life, one really descends into the depths of the soul life that, for ordinary consciousness, remain in the subconscious or unconscious.

Those who observe the soul life of a person will find — leaving aside observation of the outer world for the moment — that this soul life, insofar as it develops freely in meditation and inner feeling, always has a tendency that cannot be described other than as follows: What swells and surges in the soul-life as feeling, as restrained impulses of the will, as feelings and the like, that wants to emerge, and it wants — basically also in the healthy soul-life — to form itself into what one can call a kind of vision. In the depths of our soul, we are always striving to shape our surging, flowing soul life into a vision. However, in a healthy soul life, the vision must not be allowed to emerge. It must be replaced, it must be stopped in its tracks as it arises, otherwise a diseased soul life will result. But in every soul there are efforts to shape itself into a vision, and basically we go through life continually stopping visions in the subconscious, by allowing them to fade to the point of thought. Then the outer image helps us. When we face the outer world with our seething soul life, and the outer world with its impressions affects us, then this outer world blunts that which wants to become a vision, and the vision fades to a healthy thought. I said: we actually go through the world constantly striving for visions, only we do not always become properly aware of the corresponding perceptions. But anyone who tries to realize what only quietly echoes between the lines of life in what one experiences daily, anyone who is able to observe this, will see that all kinds of things do emerge. I must say: if, for example, I happened to enter someone's dining room and found a party eating inside, and the plates and bowls were painted red, I would instinctively believe through an elementary sensation: there sits around the table a party of gourmets who want to immerse themselves in the dishes and courses. If, on the other hand, I saw that there were plates and bowls painted blue on the tables, I would believe that these were not gourmets, but that they were eating because they were hungry. Of course, one could feel the same thing somewhat differently; that does not matter. What matters is that one is actually always tempted, by what one encounters in life, to trigger an aesthetic sensation and to bring it in a certain way to a fading vision. It is, of course, entirely possible to succumb to strong illusions in this area. That does no harm. But if it is not true at all that a society that eats out of red bowls must be told that they are gourmets: aesthetically, the matter remains correct. Likewise, one could say: If someone receives me in a red room and constantly lets me speak, and I am a very boring gentleman, then I say: he is lying to me. Because in a red room, I expect a person who has something to say to me, and I feel it is a lie if he always lets me do the talking.

So, actually, as we go through life, we are always inclined to reduce what we experience to a suspended vision that then fades under the external impressions of life. Artistic enjoyment and creation always go one step further. Artistic enjoyment and creation cannot allow what simmers and boils in the soul to emerge subconsciously to the mere thought. That would be something that would simply permeate us with thoughts, but would not lead us to anything artistic. But when we, as artists, or because an artist comes to meet us, are able to give expression to something that wants to come up in the soul, I just want to say a color scheme, and when we feel that this combination of colors gives us something we need, so that the corresponding vision that arises, but which must not become a vision, has an external complement, then we have something decidedly artistic before us. I can imagine that someone would simply use artistic means to express moods and feelings by combining colors that may not correspond to any external object at all – perhaps the less they correspond to it, the better – but which are, so to speak, the counter-image of what wants to come to vision in his soul life. In the somewhat abundant discussions in recent times about all kinds of artistic matters, people have also become more aware of such phenomena and, when someone creates something that has nothing to do with the external, that has the sole task that I have just described, they speak of expressionist art. It is still frowned upon today to assume that what is preparing itself in man as a yearning and striving towards a goal corresponds precisely to a basic trait of humanity: to arrive at a sensualization of that which can only reveal itself spiritually in the soul. However, if one were to express a thought, something that has already come from the stage of vision to the pale thought, through some sensual means, one would be unartistic. If one avoids the thought and directly confronts the sensory form, one has established the connection between the human being and what has been artistically created, whereby the thought is eliminated. And one may say: That is precisely the essential thing, that art represents neither the sensual nor the supersensible, but the sensual-supersensible, something in which the sensual is directly mirrored by a supersensible experience. Neither the sensual nor the supersensible, but only the sensual-supersensible can be realized through art.

On the other hand, one may ask: if it is not acceptable for what we have encountered in sober life as perception to simply be reproduced in art, how is it possible to relate to nature artistically at all? If nature contained nothing but what it presents to our external perception and what this perception inspires in us, then there would be no necessity for art. We can only speak of the necessity of artistic creation if there is more to nature than what appears in the finished natural products for the imagination, for the thought that, in the artistic, must not provide the bridge between personality and external nature. Now, of course, we have to say that nature has within it that immensity, has within it also the intense infinity that we cannot grasp directly through thought. Nature has within it, even in the sensory, the supersensible. We can grasp the basis of the sensory-supersensible of external nature itself by looking at nature in such a way that we try to gain an insight into what is present in it beyond the sensory impression. Now, let me give you an example: When you are standing in front of a person, you can focus your attention on the human form, on the fact that the incarnate reveals itself through the human form, on the fact that the soul manifests itself through the outer form in the physiognomy, in facial expressions; you can follow how life permeates what is external form. Of course you can do that. But even if one wanted to reproduce everything about a person, one could not, as I said, achieve nature, because there is something unartistic about simply wanting to reproduce external natural objects. Anyone who asks whether a work of art should resemble a natural object is, from the outset, certifying that they do not want to see a work of art, but an illustration. But another is at hand. It must be said that when one pursues what is expressed in the human form, what actually appears as form is actually killed by everything else that lives in it – by the hue that comes from direct life, by the soul content. And that is the secret of nature: this nature is so infinite in its details that every detail can be killed by something higher. But if you have the sense for it, you can awaken the dead from its own essence to a new life; you can revive that which is dead in the form of the human being through the higher life, through the spiritual penetration, in the form, so that the form itself now becomes a living being, without it containing life and spiritual content. A sculptor, for example, who works with materials, can give form to what he must take; he comes to realize that nature is so intensely infinite that it contains infinitely more in each of its details than what it represents. When it presents a form to us, it deadens the inner life of the form, the life is enchanted in it, and one can disenchant it. When we encounter something in nature that is colored, it is quite certain that the color itself is deadened by something else in the object. If I take the mere color, I am able to awaken something out of the color itself that has nothing to do with what the color is on the object. I create life out of the color that lies enchanted only in the color when the color appears on the surface of the natural object. In this way it is possible to disenchant enchanted life from everything that nature presents us with. It is possible to release what lies within nature and its intense infinity from this nature everywhere and nowhere to create an imitation of nature, but to disenchant what is found in nature through some higher power.

When talking about these things, one is tempted to speak in paradoxes; but I believe that this does no harm, because one can see from the extreme, radical cases how things actually are in the less radical cases. On the one hand, I can imagine that when the artistic works from within through the held vision and I create a counter-image from forms and lines and colors, these lines and colors can be put together in such a way that they reflect nothing other than the restrained vision. On the other hand, I can say: It seems possible to me that I can create something alive out of something natural, let's say a human being in whom life itself has died, who has become a corpse, purely artistically, by bringing something out of the general universe that can artistically revive the corpse. There is no need for such extreme cases. But the possibility exists, as a borderline case, that when nature has already killed a being, a new creation of even the corpse comes about, in that something is brought up that is now, as something quite different from what man himself is with his soul nature, ensouls this form. I could imagine that a captivating work of art could come about through a new life sprouting in a corpse, which reflects the secrets that exist in relation to man, and which are only hidden because man has his own soul within him until his death. One need not be offended by such a borderline case. It is just that: a borderline case. From this it can be seen that artistic creation can be effective in relation to external nature, because artistic creation and enjoyment actually proceed continually in this way, even if not pushed to the borderline case. Art is a continuous release of mysterious life that cannot exist in nature itself, that must be brought out. I am then confronted with a natural product in human form, which is dead, but I try to awaken the life of this form and, from within the form, despite it being only a dead form, to awaken the whole person again.

Genesis says that man was created by the breath of God, that a human soul was breathed into him. This could lead one to see something else in the air besides the combination of oxygen and nitrogen. It could seduce one to see in the air something that awakens the human soul from it, something soul-like; it could seduce one to believe that this air basically longs to become a soul when inhaled by humans. One could see in the air the counter-image of the human soul, thus more than something merely inanimate: a yearning for the human being. Now it is very difficult to arrive at such a feeling in connection with air, because air and fire inspire little in the way of artistic creation. Nobody would want to paint fire, or lightning, and one would not want to draw air either. So it is not easy to arrive at this feeling in direct contact with air; but it seems to me that one can arrive at a true artistic feeling for this sensation in contact with the world of light and color. In the world of light and color, one can truly have the feeling that every color, or at least the color relationships, have the longing to become either a whole human being or a piece of a human being. In the human being, they find expression either as an inner expression of his being or in the way the light illuminates him and is reflected back. But one can say: If one lives in the light itself, one lives with the longing of the air to shape itself into the human face, for example. One can have the feeling that red and yellow want to achieve something; they want to shape themselves into something human, they have a language that lies within themselves. Then one will not try to simply reproduce the human being in a sober way. The liberation from the model must become an ideal of artistic creation in general. He who has not overcome the model at the moment he begins to create, who does not regard it as something that gives him the instruction to eavesdrop on nature's secrets, will remain dependent on the model and create illustrations. On the other hand, he who has artistic feeling will be tempted to shape the human being or some other being or some natural form out of color. For such a person, the world of color will be able to take on an inner, differentiated life. One will find that red and yellow colors are such that they tempt one to use them wherever one wants something to express itself, to speak through itself. What confronts one in red and yellow will express itself, will, through its own power, produce the ideal of art, excluding thought. It is different when one is confronted with blue, with violet. There one will have much more the feeling that with blue, with violet, one comes close to thought, at least on one side. One will have the feeling that with blue, with violet, one cannot represent something that expresses itself, but rather, something else, more easily. One will be tempted to represent the blue of one's inwardness by showing it in motion. And you will find that it is difficult to create an inner movement of the object by evoking some lines in the red. Rather, lines, shading, I would even say physiognomy, will arise in the red. The red will speak for itself. The blue, when transformed into lines, will betray its inner nature, will lead us more under the surface of the color than lead us out of it. When something expresses itself as color, one has the feeling that the color repels one. The blue leads us under the surface of the color; one believes that in what is expressed through the blue, movement, the development of will, is possible. A purely sensual-supersensible being, that is, a supersensible being that one wants to place in the sensory world, to paint blue and to express its inner mobility through the nuances of the blue, will be able to be fruitful.

In this way, one can disenchant whatever one encounters in nature as a part, whatever is killed in nature by higher life. One can find the sensual and the supersensual in nature itself; one can give life to mere form. One will find that it can never make a truly satisfying impression if one simply reproduces the human form as it is in a sculptural work of art. Many years ago, I once had a strange experience with a friend who became a sculptor. He said to me at the time – we were both quite young –: Yes, you see, you would actually have to produce the right plastic work of art by exactly imitating every single twist of the surface. – I must confess that I was almost furious at this expression, because it seemed to me that in this way the most abominable thing of an artistic performance could come out. Because, in any case, if you want to carve out of stone or wood what has form in man, what is killed by the higher things in life, without this inner life, then you have to bring it to life for yourself, you have to call upon the surface to say what it can never say on the outer man of nature.

For example, one finds that if one bends a surface and then bends it twice more, so that the bend is bent again, one has the simplest archetypal phenomenon of inner life. A surface bent in such a way that the bend is bent again can be used in the most diverse ways, and it will — of course this needs to be further developed — the inner life of the surface will emerge from the surface itself. These things testify to the fact that there is a relationship between outer nature and the human soul, which in truth has the character of the sensual-supersensible. We come to form thoughts precisely through our encounter with outer nature, in that outer nature kills off through a higher power that which otherwise exists as members in nature and keeps a higher spiritual life enchanted. This compels us to grasp this deadened life through the sober thought. If we avoid this pale thought and seek to grasp that which lies enchanted in the parts of nature and to which we ourselves carry out the process of putting it together, of giving it the higher life, then we undergo the process of artistic creation or that of artistic enjoyment. The two are related only in that what is later in the first is earlier in the second, and what is later in the second is earlier in the first. If we follow this approach, which is directed towards the intense infinity of nature and the possibility of demystifying the secrets of nature, in terms of what it represents in the soul life of man, then we have to say that it does not evoke the pale world of thoughts. What is demystified is lighter than what mere thought can grasp. But it does establish a connection between the external object and the human soul, in which thought is excluded, and in which a spiritual relationship between the human being and the object is nevertheless sought.

This can of course be taken further and we arrive at what may still appear quite absurd and terrible to many people today. It can be understood, but what at first seemed terrible to people was always something that they took for granted after they had become accustomed to it for some time. If you look at a person – you only need to look at their skeletal structure – then even with a very superficial observation you will be able to see that the skeleton clearly consists of two very different parts – we will not consider the other one today –: the head skeleton, which is, so to speak, only attached, and the rest of the skeleton. For those who have a sense of form, it now becomes clear – not through some anatomical observation, but through a sensory observation of the head and body skeleton – that one is the metamorphosis of the other, that one can think of the main bones in such a way that wherever there is a hump, it can also grow, and wherever there is an outgrowth, it can recede. By mere transformation, one can actually — by changing the form — make the main skeleton emerge from the rest of the skeleton and, to a high degree, the rest of the skeleton emerge from the main skeleton. So that one can say: the whole human being is enchanted in the head. Even when one is confronted with a skeleton without a head, one will be tempted, if one does not want to get stuck with the sensory perception, to supplement the head to this skeleton in a sensory-supersensory way; one will be tempted to let the vision of the head arise from the skeleton. There are people who cannot imagine this. But it is impossible for a human trunk skeleton to arise in nature without a head skeleton. For those who, in their imagination, do not merely confront nature as an abstraction, but in such a way that they carry the essence of nature in their own perception and cannot perceive the natural object other than as it must be, it is self-evident that the head skeleton will also appear to them out of the body skeleton like a vision. But for him who sees through these things, it is the case that if he has only the head and now completes the whole person out of it as if from a vision, this person is different from when he completes the other the other way round. It is similar and yet different. So that one can also say here: In nature outside, a wholeness is created in man, which consists in the dissection into head and remaining organism; but each individual wants to be a whole man. In a higher whole, life, which is enchanted in each individual as a whole man, is killed. If you exclude the thought that arises when you encounter a human being, then you see yourself forced to recreate from your own inner being that which you take from the human being by analyzing him. And in this way, you rebuild nature, like nature itself. One creates this infinitely intense, significant process of unifying what must first be killed in its members in order to reappear at a higher level. And it will naturally be different if one recreates it in spirit.

I believe that this already evokes a certain horror in the imagination. We have made an attempt in our building in Dornach – one can make attempts in all fields, it can never be a matter of wanting to restrict art by means of any dogmas – in a group that is to be executed in wood – it is important that it is to be executed in wood – it cannot be done in stone – to first reunite in a central figure at a higher level that which is also united in the human being, but united through nature, where in turn the sexual organs are killed by something higher. Every human being is asymmetrical. But what wants something completely different in the left side than in the right, you can feel it: then two people stand before us, the left-handed person and the right-handed person. That which is specialized in the left- and right-handed person is united in nature to a higher unity, in that the self-will of the limbs is slain. In artistic contemplation, which confronts the will of nature, arises, I would say, the complete figure of the left-handed and right-handed man. Both basically want something different, and the artist must — this can remain very much in the subconscious — relive the process that nature carries out on another level by killing the left-handed and right-handed man and balancing them in the whole human being. If one now artistically creates a figure in which the form suggests that the human being is an asymmetrical being, then something else must be added. The sensual-supersensory, perceived, brings one into the necessity of really bringing about what is necessary as other limbs. Therefore, we were compelled to create other figures. We were obliged to compensate for the disintegration and subsequent reassembling of the left- and right-handed man by hinting at the other two opposites. What lives in man as a vision when one imagines the torso of the human body as a visionary complement to the whole human being? One would have alive in the outer form what rises from the trunk to the head as drives, as instincts, what one could call the Luciferic. One will want to shape this Luciferic in a different way than nature has done: For example, one will reshape the shoulder blades into wings; then one will be tempted to bring together what nature constricts, these wings, with the shape of the ear and head. Something different will come out of these sensual-supernatural human limbs than an ordinary natural man, but it will represent a certain side of man that one should not be allowed to represent individually. It would be dreadful if someone were to present something like this as a figure in itself, but together with the human being and in the right composition to the human being, it can be composed in such a way that one imitates the compositional power of nature. Conversely, what wants to become a whole human being in the human head must also be recreated. What wants to become a whole human being in the human head, becomes ossified, hardened, when it is developed into a whole human being. This is what we must continually overcome in ourselves, what we actually overcome by adding to the impulses that we carry in us through our head those that keep this hardening fresh from the rest of the organism. We must overcome what comes from the head with what comes from the blood of the heart organism. The human being's sensible-supersensible nature makes it possible to recreate in separate forms what is hidden in the individual human form and was composed by nature herself at a different level.

What might be called the process of re-creation actually takes place in the human soul; it is a process in the life of the soul, something that is not just an external and abstract imitation of nature, but rather a continuation of nature's evolution in the human being himself. This presupposes that the artist and the person who is artistically gifted actually face nature and themselves in a very complicated way – which remains only in the subconscious, since the thought is eliminated –. That is understandable. It must be said that, emotionally, we are in a complicated process with regard to what is to become artistic. If someone simply wanted to reproduce a beautiful woman by imitating what nature provides, he would inwardly kill this woman. He would depict her dead. She would not come to life in his work, even if he reproduced her very faithfully. You have to be able to transform her into a corpse first, but then, through what is genuine, true humor, recreate her beauty from a completely different element. Without figuratively speaking, figuratively speaking, you have to kill a beautiful woman - you have to beat her up or something like that, first transform her into something dead - you can't paint her properly. Its beauty is present in nature in a completely different way than it must be present in the finished work of art. One must first discover with humor what is to be recreated and what must be killed. One can say: when one sits opposite a serious scholar, the reproduction of this is initially actually a comedy; one might be tempted to laugh at his serious expression. But one is only artistically finished with the serious scholar's countenance when one has humorously revived it with something else. One must make it amiable again and then one can understand it from a completely different perspective.

The aim is therefore to resurrect that which has been killed in nature through one's own subjective life, to disenchant it, to redeem it. If I observe a dashing young farmer walking on the mountain pasture and simply imitate him, I will probably create something very dead; but if I make an effort to, as it were, first kill him and, through certain lines, bring about a harmony between him and the surrounding nature, I will be able to create something artistic. Hodler has attempted such things, and we can see that in the subconscious similar efforts are being made everywhere, which has also led to artistic discussion about what might be called, on the one hand, the creation of the counter-image for the unfinished vision, and on the other hand, the creation of the subjective counter-image through what enchants in nature and is always killed by a higher life. In this way the sensible and the super-sensible approach man from two sides, and through art man can endeavour to bring them to a higher, new existence.

In my earlier lecture on the same theme I endeavoured to connect the thoughts which I have developed here before you to certain thoughts of Goethe's in order to show how the sensible and the super-sensible can be realized through art. I was criticized for this, and I now realize that it worked just as well without the reference to Goethe. People reproach you for many things, especially when you refer to Goethe, because those who think they come particularly close to Goethe when they repeat something of his that they do not understand, and are able to judge those who have made an effort to penetrate into the matter. These things can be understood; it is a natural process in human life, and one must sometimes be quite pleased when what one says is judged in this way. One can even think: if it had received a different, more approving judgment, one would have to say something quite superfluous or foolish. So I will at least present what I could avoid at the end. I do believe that anyone who approaches Goethe with understanding will find in his broad-minded and perceptive view of art, even if it is expressed in a different way, what has been asserted today as the sensual-supernatural element in art. I even borrowed the expression from Goethe. And I believe, although I am quite of the opinion that in a certain sense it is correct that the one to whom art reveals its secrets has a rather pronounced antipathy to art or to enter into an aesthetic-scientific consideration, I believe that art can only be discussed from the standpoint of life, that the most correct way to discuss art is to listen to the artists themselves. However, sometimes one comes to strange experiences. As a rule, artists complain terribly about what other artists produce, and if you enjoy their works, you sometimes do not enjoy what artists say about their works, because they sometimes live in illusions about their own works. But the artist must create out of illusions, and precisely that could be right, giving the right impulse for his artistic creation. Even if I fully admit all this, and even if I understand from a certain point of view that the artist is always quite reserved about anything approaching ingratiation from the side of aesthetic science or other considerations, I still do not believe that it is completely unnecessary to have intuitive ideas about art. I believe that art must always advance with the general progress of the soul's life. I believe that it is precisely through the contemplation of the sensual-supernatural, as it unfolds through the held vision, as it confronts us from the outer nature, when we disenchant what is enchanted in it, that art solves the riddle of nature in a sensual-supernatural way. So that in the end I want to quote this beautiful, worldly saying of Goethe's as a summary of today's reflection: “When nature begins to reveal its manifest secret to someone, that person feels an irresistible longing for its most worthy interpreter, art.”

From time immemorial, people have felt the affinity between artistic imagination and supersensible knowledge, with what can be called seeing consciousness, or, if one is not misunderstood, which would be easy, seership. For the spiritual researcher of the present day, who, starting from the point of view of the present, attempts to penetrate into the spiritual world, this relationship between artistic creation and supersensible knowledge is much more significant than the other, often emphasized relationship between the visionary life, which is fundamentally based on pathological conditions, and that which is really only in the soul, without the help of the body, is vision.

Now we know that poets, artists in general, sometimes feel a very close relationship between the whole nature of their work, between their experience and vision. In particular, artists who seek their way into the supersensible regions through creative work, fairy-tale writers or other artists who seek to embody the supersensible, rightly tell of a truly living experience, of how they have their figures visibly before them, how they stand before them in action, making an objective, concrete impression when they deal with them. As long as such a confrontation with that which is poured into artistic creation does not take away the composure of the soul, as long as it does not turn into compulsive visions over which human will has no power and composure cannot dispose, one can still speak of a kind of borderline event between artistic vision and seership. In the field of spiritual scientific research alone, a very definite boundary can be seen – and that is the important thing – between artistic creation with its source, artistic imagination, on the one hand, and seeing with the eyes closed on the other. Those who are unable to recognize this clear boundary and make it fruitful for their own work will easily end up where many of my artist colleagues have been who were actually afraid of being limited in their work by allowing something of the visionary to enter their consciousness. There are people who are true artistic natures, but who consider it necessary for artistic creation to have impulses well up from the subconscious or unconscious of the soul, but who, like a fire, shy away from the fact that something of a supersensible reality, which confronts clear consciousness, may shine into their unconscious creativity.

In relation to their experience in artistic enjoyment, reception and comprehension, and in relation to the experience of the supersensible worlds through supersensible vision, there is now subjectively an enormous difference in this experience. In the soul in which it finds expression, artistic activity, reception and vision, leaves intact the directing of the personality through the senses to the external world with the help of outer perception and with the help of imagination, which then becomes memory. One need only recall the peculiar nature of all artistic creation and enjoyment, and one will say to oneself: Certainly, in artistic reception and also in artistic creation, there is perception and conception of the external world. It is not present in such a crude way as it is usually present in sensory revelations; there is something spiritual in the way of perceiving and creating, which freely intervenes and rules over perception and imagination and over what lives in the artist as memory and the content of memory. But one could not dispute the justification of naturalism and individualism if one did not know about the connection with perception. Likewise, one can be convinced that in the soul, hidden memories, subconscious things, what is in man as memory, participates in artistic creation and enjoyment. All this is absent in what, in the sense of modern spiritual research, is the content of truly supersensible knowledge. Here we are dealing with a complete detachment of the soul from sensory perception, and also from ordinary thinking and from that which, as memory, is connected with thinking. Yes, that is precisely the great difficulty in convincing contemporaries that there can be something like an inner experience that excludes perception and ordinary thinking and remembering. The natural scientist, in particular, will not admit that this could be the case. He will always claim: “You say that nothing flows into your seeing. I see that you are mistaken: you do not know how hidden content rests in memory and comes up in a sophisticated way. That is because those who object to it do not occupy themselves with the methods by which one attains the ability to see and which show that the impression of the spiritual world can be directly present where nothing is incorporated from reminiscences, from mysterious memories. The training consists precisely in finding the way to free the soul from outer impressions and ideas based on memories. This establishes a firm boundary between artistic creation and the production of supersensible knowledge, since the soul, the human ego in which supersensible knowledge lives, does not actually draw on the organization of the body, which does play a part when it comes to artistic creation.

But because of this state of affairs, the question arises all the more: What is the relationship between the impulses that arise from the subconscious depths of the soul and are woven into artistic creation and enjoyment, and what is born out of the pure spiritual world in the form of direct impressions from supersensible knowledge? — To answer this question, I would like to start from some experiences with art for the seer himself. These experiences with the arts in general are characteristic right from the start. It then becomes evident that anyone who has learned to live in the supersensible life, to gather supersensible knowledge, really is able to exclude for certain periods of time all sense impressions and the memories that follow on from them. These can be excluded, cast out of the soul. When someone who is immersed in supersensible vision also tries to clearly perceive all this when confronted with a work of art, what he is accustomed to perceiving when confronted with an external sensory phenomenon, a completely different experience arises. When confronted with a sensory phenomenon, the seer is always able to exclude sensory perceptions and memories, but not when confronted with a work of art. Even though everything that can be perceived or imagined is of course excluded, the seer is always left with important inner content that he can neither exclude nor wants to exclude. The work of art gives something that turns out to be related to his seership. This raises the question: what is the source of this relationship?

One comes to this realization when one seeks to grasp what is active in man when he sees purely spiritually in supersensible knowledge. Then one comes to realize what inadequate ideas we have about ourselves and our relationship to the external world when we remain in ordinary consciousness. We believe that our thinking, feeling and willing are strictly separated from one another. Psychology does trace these activities back to one another, but not with the right skill. But the one who experiences the actual complexity of the soul life as it presents itself in seership knows that such a distinction between imagining, feeling and willing does not even exist, but in ordinary consciousness and life there is in every imagining a remnant of feeling and willing, in every feeling a remnant of imagining and willing, and in every willing there is also an imagining, even a perceiving in it; there remains in the willing a remnant of perception, which is hidden in it, subconscious. This must be borne in mind if one wishes to understand the process of seeing. For from what has been said, you will gather that in the act of seeing, the faculty of imagining and perceiving is silent, but the faculties of feeling and willing are not. However, it would not be a true vision if the person only developed feeling and willing, as in ordinary consciousness. On the contrary, when man passes over into the seer state, all volition as it is in ordinary life must be silenced. Man enters into the state of complete rest.

What is meant here by the term 'vision' does not imply the fidgety act of placing oneself in the spiritual world, as in dervishry, but the complete silencing of all that expresses itself as volition in ordinary life, as the power of emotional feeling. In that which a person allows to pass from volition into action, something of the emotional feeling still lives on. This feeling, also in relation to the revelation in the will, must remain silent. But the emotional feeling as such does not remain silent, and above all, the impulse of the will does not remain silent. Perception and imagination remain silent, but the impulses of emotional feeling and will are justified, only entering into a state of calm soul condition, and therefore developing their perceiving and imagining character differently than usual. If one were to dwell only in feeling, or in a false mystical inner living out of the will, then one would not enter into the spiritual world. But in the calm state of soul, what are otherwise emotional feelings and impulses of the will are lived out in a spiritual way. Feeling and volition are so lived out that they appear before the human soul as objective spiritual beings endowed with powerful thoughts, while the rest of perception and imagination, which otherwise remained unnoticed in feeling and volition, comes to revelation and becomes capable of placing itself in the spiritual world. Once one has realized this, that as a seer in feeling and willing one lives as otherwise one lives in thinking and perceiving — not in unclear thinking and feeling, not in nebulous mysticism, but as clearly as otherwise in thinking and perceiving — one can enter into a fruitful dialogue with art, although only by realizing how worthless such generalizations are, as they are expressed, for example, by the word art.

Art encompasses very different areas: architecture, sculpture, music, poetry, painting and more. One could say that if one wanted to establish the relationships between the different arts with the experience of the seer, then the diversity of the arts becomes much more meaningful to one than what philosophy would like to summarize under the name of art. By achieving the possibility of experiencing the world's thought content and spirit content with the help of thinking, emotional feeling and willing, one arrives at being able to establish a remarkable relationship with architecture.

I said that in this vision, ordinary perception and thinking cease, but a kind of completely different thinking arises that flows from feeling and willing, a thinking that is actually thinking in forms, that could directly, by thinking, represent forms of the distribution of power in space, proportions in space. This thinking feels akin to what is expressed in architecture and sculpture when they represent true artistic creations. One feels particularly at home with the thinking and perceiving in architecture and sculpture because the shadowy abstract thinking that the present so loves ceases, falls silent, and a representational thinking sets in that can but allow its content to pass over into spatial forms, into moving spatial forms, into stretching, over-arching, bending forms, in which the will flowing in the world is expressed. The seer is compelled not to grasp with the intellect what he wants to cognize from the spiritual world, as is done in the rest of science. One would recognize nothing spiritual there. One is mistaken if one believes that one recognizes in the spiritual, because one cannot penetrate into the spiritual world with ordinary thoughts. He who wants to penetrate into the spiritual world must have something as a thinker, which creates plastic or architectural, but living forms in himself. Through this one comes to the conclusion that the artist enters into an experience of forms in the subconscious. They strive upwards, fill his soul, are transformed into ordinary ideas, which can be partly calculated; they are transformed into that what is then artistically formed. The architect and the sculptor are intermediaries for what the seer experiences as perception and imagination in the spiritual world. What the seer grasps as form for his life of thinking and perceiving creeps into the architect's organization. Down in the depths of the soul, it rises in waves and becomes conscious. This is how the architect and sculptor create their forms. The only difference is that what underlies the architectonic and sculptural work as the essential form-giving element arises from subconscious impulses, and that the seer discovers these impulses as what he needs to grasp the great interrelations of the spiritual world. Just as one otherwise has imagination and perception, so the seer has to develop gifts that point to what permeates and trembles through the great structure of the world. And what he, as a seer, sees through and lives through, that lives in an unconscious way in the architect and sculptor, permeating his work as he creates it.

In a different way, those who have had supernatural experiences and are seeking a connection to poetic and musical creativity can identify with his experiences. The seer gradually comes to feel his inner self quite differently than the ordinary consciousness, which presents and perceives the sensual world around us: He feels within himself in his feeling and willing.

Those who can practise self-observation know that one is only in one's self in feeling and willing. But the seer raises feeling and willing out of himself, and in that feeling and willing provide him with perceptions and perceptions, he comes away from himself in his feeling and willing. But something else occurs. He finds himself again. With the clear consciousness of having stepped out of his body, of perceiving nothing with the help of his body, he finds himself again in the outer world, intuitively passing into what he has perceived in moving forms and shaping into images. He carries his self into the outer world. By doing so, he learns, as it were, to say to himself: Through truly inner experience from experience, I can recognize that I have stepped out of my body, which has always been the mediator of my relationship to the outer world, but I have found myself again by immersing myself in the spiritual world. By becoming an inner experience, the seer finds that he is compelled to receive his will and feeling from the spiritual world again, to receive himself again out of the supersensible world. He must do this by once more receiving a feeling and a will — but a transformed feeling and will that does not take the body for help — a feeling that is intimately related to the experience of music, so related in fact that one could say: It is even more musical than the comprehension of music itself. It is such a feeling that it is as if one's soul were pouring out into sounds, becoming a melody, a vibration, in the presence of a symphony or another work of music.

With poetry, it is the case that one is in one's volition. That is what the poetry wants, which one learns to perceive as true poetry precisely in this way, by finding one's volition there. Feeling in music, volition in true poetry.

In a peculiar situation, in a particularly significant situation, is the relationship between seers and painters. The matter is such that neither the one nor the other occurs, but something else, something even more characteristic. In the presence of real painting the seer has the feeling — and he could be a painter himself, for we shall hear that artistic creation and supersensible insight can exist side by side — the painter comes to meet him from some indefinite region of the world, brings a world of line and color and he approaches the painter from the opposite direction and is obliged to transpose what the painter brings with him, what he has transferred from the external world into his art, as imaginations into what he experiences in the spiritual world. The colors the seer experiences are different from those of the painter, and yet they are the same. They do not interfere with each other. If you want to get an idea of this, take a look at the sensual-moral part of Goethe's theory of colors about the moral effect of colors. It contains the most elementary description, It describes with inner instinct what emotional effects are awakened in the soul by individual colors. It is through this feeling that the seer comes out of the spiritual world, through this feeling that one really experiences every day in the higher world.

One should not think that the seer speaks in the same way as a painter speaks of colors when describing the colored aura. He experiences the feeling that one otherwise experiences with yellow and red, but it is a spiritual experience and should not be confused with physical visions. The worst misunderstanding arises on this point. For the seer, the experience is similar to painting in that one can speak of an encounter with something similar that comes from the opposite direction, where understanding is possible because the same thing comes in from the outside that is created from within. I always assume that it is a matter of artistic creation, with which communication is possible if, before that, not naturalism but art is there. The seer is compelled to imagine what he experiences, to illustrate it, roughly speaking. This happens when he expresses in colors and forms what he experiences: there he encounters the painter. And again, if you were to ask the painter, how do we relate to one another? the painter would have to answer: Something lives in me! As I went through the world with my ordinary eye and saw color and form, and artistically transformed them, I experienced something within me that had previously surged in the depths of my soul; it has come to consciousness and become art. The seer would say to the painter: What lives in the depths of your soul lives in things. By going through the things, you live with the soul in the spirit of things. But in order to retain the strength for painting and to consciously experience what you experienced by going through the things outside, so that what comes to the senses is not extinguished in you, you have to keep the impulses that create painting alive in the subconscious. The point is that the unconscious impulses now rise to consciousness. The seer says: “I walked through the same world, but paid attention to what lives in you. I looked at what arose in your subconscious and brought what was unconscious to your consciousness.

It is precisely with such an understanding that something will confront the human soul as a great and significant problem that may not otherwise always be properly observed. When one becomes familiar with what has just been characterized through inner experience, something comes up that touches life deeply. This is the mystery of the incarnate, this wonderful human flesh color, which is actually a great clairvoyant problem. It reminds one so much that such clairvoyance, as I mean it, is actually not so completely alien and unknown to ordinary life; it is just not heeded. I would like to express the paradoxical but true sentence: every person is clairvoyant, but this is also denied in theory where it cannot be denied in practice. If it were denied in practice, it would destroy all life.

There are oddballs today who think: How come I have to deal with a complete stranger's ego? They want to remain completely within the realm of the naturalistic; they want to remain true naturalists, so they say to themselves: I have memorized the facial oval and other things, and because I have learned from various experiences that a person is hidden in such shapes, I conclude that there will be a human ego behind this nose shape. One finds such arguments today among “clever people”. But that does not correspond to the experience one comes to when one observes life from one's own participation in life. I do not conclude that there is an ego from the shape of the face and so on. I have the consciousness of an ego because the perception of what confronts one as a physical human being is based on something other than the perception of crystals or plants. It is not true that inanimate natural bodies make the same impression as a human being. It is different with animals. What stands before you as a sensual human object cancels itself out, makes itself ideationally transparent, and through real clairvoyance one sees its ego directly every time one stands before a human being. That is the real fact. This clairvoyance consists in nothing more than extending this way of facing the human being with one's own subject to the world, in order to see if there is anything else to see through in the way of the human being.

You cannot get real impressions from clairvoyance without considering what the other person's perception is based on, which is so different because it is based on clairvoyance of the other soul. In this clairvoyance, the complexion plays a special role. For the external observer, it is a finished product, but for the one who sees supernaturally, the experience of looking at the incarnate changes. For him, there is an intermediate state. It comes about by turning one's clairvoyance, which extends to the other areas of the world, to the human form in such a way that the incarnate, which is so calm, oscillates between opposites and the intermediate state. One perceives paleness and a blush that is as if it radiated warmth. In this, that one sees people blushing and turning pale, the middle state is within. Associated with this experience of being in motion is the fact that one knows one is also immersed in the outer being of the person, not only in his soul, in his ego. One plunges into what the person is through his soul in his body, through the incarnate. This is something that leads one to the relationship between artistic perception and supersensible knowledge. For that which becomes so mobile in the perception of the incarnate lies unconsciously in the artistic creation of the incarnate. The artist needs only to be subtly aware of this. Only by being able to experience this will an artist be able to place the fine, living vibration in the center of the incarnate parts.

In this way, painting shows how the sources of artistic imagination and supersensible knowledge collide. In ordinary life, they collide when one does not even notice it, in the realm of language. Nowadays, language is usually viewed in a very intellectual way, even scientifically; but the life of language is present in us in a threefold way. Anyone who approaches language with a seer's eye and has to express what they perceive in the spiritual world must first acquire a feeling for language that could be described as a sense of loss. When people talk to each other, and also when they engage in ordinary science, everything they say is a debasement of language below the level at which language should be. Language as a mere means of communication is debasement. One senses that language actually comes to life in its own essence where poetry flows through it, where what emerges from the human soul flows through language. This is where the spirit of language itself is at work. The poet actually discovers the level of language for the first time, perceiving ordinary language as a neglect of the higher level of language. It is easy to understand how a subtle poet like Morgenstern could come to the conclusion that there is actually a perceptible lower limit to speaking, which is very common, the limit that can be called chattering. He finds that chatter has its basis in ignorance of the meaning and value of the individual word, that the chatterer comes to distort the word from its fixed contours and make it unclear. Morgenstern senses that this is a deep secret of life that is being expressed. He says that language takes revenge on the unclear, on the vague. That is understandable, since he was able to bridge the gap between poetry and seeing, just as he finds their affinity with sound, image, architecture, and so on.

This same affinity underlay the entire work of Goethe, who at one time in his life did not know whether he should become a poet or a sculptor. But the seer experiences what is the content of the spiritual experience for him outside of language. This is something that is difficult to explain because most people think in words, but the seer thinks without words and is then compelled to pour what is wordless in the experience into the already firmly formed language. He has to adapt to the formal relationships of language. He need not feel this as a constraint, for he will discover the secret of creating language. He can make himself understood by stripping away the conceptual aspect of language. It is therefore so important to understand that it is more important how the seer says it than what he says. What he says is conditioned by the ideas that each of us brings in from the outside. He is obliged, in order not to be regarded as a fool, to clothe what he has to say in viable sentences and chains of thought. For the highest realms of the spirit, it is important how the seer says something. The one who came up with the how of expression, who came up with the fact that the seer has to be careful, to say some things briefly, others more broadly, and others not at all, that he is obliged to formulate the sentence from one side in one way, then to add another from the other side. It is the way it is formulated that is important for the higher parts of the spiritual world. Therefore, in order to understand, it is important to listen less to the content, which is of course also important as a revelation of the spiritual world, and more to penetrate through the content to the way in which the content is expressed, in order to see whether the speaker is merely linking sentences and theories, or whether he is speaking from experience. Speaking from the spiritual world becomes visible in the way something is said, not so much in the content, if it is theoretical, but in the way it is expressed. In such communications from the forms of language, the artistic element of language can have an effect on what inspires the seer to rise to the level of the process of language creation, so that he recreates something of what was present when language emerged from the human organism.

What is the reason that what arises in the visionary consciousness is brought into the spirit world through artistic creation, but lives in the artistic imagination in an unconscious and subconscious way? — Artistic creation is, of course, conscious, but the impulses, the driving force, must remain in the unconscious so that artistic creation is uninhibited. Only he can understand what is at stake here who knows that the ordinary consciousness of man is, for certain reasons, destined for something other than for entering into the full world.

On the one hand, our ordinary consciousness proceeds from the observation of nature. But what it delivers to us does not arise from our concepts; they do not penetrate into the realm where, in space, matter haunts, as Dz Bois-Reymond says. And again: what lives in the soul cannot be fulfilled with reality. No matter how deeply mystical the experience, it always hovers over reality. Man comes to the full world neither by seeing nature nor by seeing into the soul. There is an abyss there that usually cannot be bridged. It is consciously bridged in the seeing consciousness, in artistic creation. There, self-knowledge must become something other than what is usually called that. Mystical insight finds that it has achieved enough when it is said: “I have experienced the God, my higher self, within.” Real self-knowledge aims to see how what one otherwise experiences in the mere point of the ego lives creatively in the organism. We are not merely conceiving and perceiving beings in that we have perception and perception; we also continually breathe out and in. While we are facing the world in waking consciousness, we are always breathing out and in, but ordinary consciousness is unaware of what is going on within us. Something wonderful is happening that can only be recognized by the seeing consciousness, when one looks not only at nebulousness, at the abstract I, but at how this I lives, forming in the concrete. The following then takes place.

When breathing out, the cerebral fluid passes into the medullar canal, into a long sack which has many stretchy, tearable points; it pushes downwards, pushing against the veins of the body. What is going on here I describe as an external process. Ordinary consciousness cannot penetrate it, but the soul experiences it subconsciously, this spreading out of what comes from the brain into the veins of the body, and when breathing in, the backflow of the venous blood into the veins of the back through the spinal canal, the penetration of the cerebral fluid into the brain, and what happens there as a play between nerves and sensory organs. Ordinary consciousness is shadowy here, knows nothing about it, but soul and spirit are involved. This process appears chaotic. What pulsates back and forth takes place in musical form in every human being. There is inner music in this process. And the creative element in music is to be raised up into the outer conscious form of the music by what the musician has become accustomed to experiencing as the music of his soul body. In it lives the tone, the subconscious life-giving power of the music in which the human soul weaves. Our psychology is still quite elementary; the things that shed light on the artist's life have yet to be explored in harmony with the faculty of vision. The human experience is a complex one. It is this subconscious knowledge of the soul that is the actual impulse of artistic imagination, in that the musical life plays out between the spinal cord and the brain, where the blood and cerebrospinal fluid rush in, so that the nerve is set into vibration, which rises up towards the brain. If this is brought into connection with the possibility of higher perception, then there is more inner music in it that is enjoyed than in the objective impulse from which the human soul is born, in that the human being enters into physical existence through birth or conception from the spiritual life. The soul enters into existence by learning to play on the instrument of the physical body.

And what happens when all this movement takes place, this vibration of the brain water that comes up? What takes place there in the interaction between nerves and senses? — When the nerve wave strikes the outer senses — not yet the sensory perception, mind you — when the nerve wave simply strikes in the waking state, there lives unconsciously and is drowned out by perception: poetry! Between the senses and the nervous system is a region where man unconsciously creates poetry. The nerve wave rolls into his senses - unconsciously it runs, one can determine this physiologically - this life runs in the senses and is poetry-producing: man lives creating poetry within himself. And the poetic creation is the bringing up of this unconscious life.

I have described this in the breathing process. During exhalation, we must bear in mind that the cerebral fluid in the body presses downwards in the forces that come from the body to meet it, and in the forces through which the human being places himself in the external world. We are constantly standing in a certain static position in the outer world, whether we are standing with legs apart, with arms bent, or whether we are crawling as a child, or whether we transform this static position of crawling into the static position of standing upright: we are in a state of inner equilibrium. The inner forces with which the waves that are exhaled meet us are based on what is formed in sculpture and architecture. The emotional feeling that lives in a person when they move but keep that movement still is expressed in the sculpture. This is an inner experience that is connected to the forms of the body. One recognizes this only when one is accustomed to developing perception and thinking into calm formal ideas. One learns that from the body do not come chaotic forces, but forms that show that the human being is integrated into the cosmos. By looking at more external forces, which the soul experiences subconsciously, one has more to do with plastic imagination. Between the two lies a strange unconscious realm that the soul has down in its depths. As the nerve impulse vibrates between body and brain, it is in contact with the warm blood, which is actually the cold, intellectual part of the human body. In such warmth and spirituality lie unconsciously the sources of artistic creation, which impulsates the painter as he brings his impressions, raised from the subconscious, onto the wall in colors. Man stands unconscious in the spiritual world, which is only opened up through seership.

It was not for nothing that in ancient times the body was seen as a temple for the soul. There was an indication of how architecture is related to the balance of the whole body and the whole cosmos.

Art should express what the artist is only able to put into his work because his soul experiences it in connection with the world, because his body is a microcosmic image of the whole macrocosm. If this is to be brought to consciousness, it can only be done through the gift of second sight. Why does the ordinary aesthetic, built on the model of natural science, prove so barren? The artist cannot do anything with this school aesthetic, which wants to bring the unconscious in human nature to consciousness in the same way as ordinary natural science. What lives in artistic creation brings the vision to consciousness, only the artist must not be afraid of the vision, as so many are. The two areas can live separately side by side in the human personality because they can be so distinct. It is possible for the soul to live outside the body in the spiritual world: then it can observe how that which otherwise remains in the subconscious is crystallized into artistic creation, but also how that which can be artistically experienced by the seer, separate from his seership. Only artistic fertilization can come from this experience and can only benefit the artist, just as artists can also fertilize the seer's vision. The seer who has artistic sense or taste will be saved from allowing spiritual science to be shot through with too much of the philistine. He will describe this spiritual world flexibly, will be able to shape the how of spiritual science, of which I spoke, more appropriately than someone who, without artistic sense, has appropriated entry into the spiritual world. There is no need, as there is for many artists, to develop a fear of seeing. I am speaking of the serious fear, not just the fear of being said to be an anthroposophist. I am speaking of the very common fear in principle that seeing would impair the immediacy of artistic creation. In reality, this impairment does not exist. But we live in an age in which, through the historical necessity of human development, the soul is pushed to transform into consciousness what was naively present in the subconscious. Only those who increasingly transform the unconscious into the free grasp of the conscious understand the times in which we live.

If this demand of the time is not met, humanity will enter a cultural cul-de-sac. Art cannot be recognized by ordinary science, which is why aesthetics is rejected by artists. But a science that seeks to understand is developing a seership that does not take the dew from the flowers of art. The seer is agile enough to grasp art. Therefore, anyone can grasp it as a fact of today's world that a bridge must be built between artistry and seership; they can emphasize this as a necessity, as Christian Morgenstern beautifully emphasized it in words that point to the need for a turnaround. He says: “He who only wants to immerse himself in what can be experienced today from the Divine-Spiritual through feeling, not penetrating through knowledge, is like the illiterate person who sleeps all his life with the primer under his pillow.”

Often one wants to sleep with the primer of world knowledge under one's pillow all one's life, so as not to have one's original elementary creativity weakened by visionary science. Whoever grasps the science of prophecy as it can be understood today, in keeping with the times, will understand that, in the spirit of Morgenstern, one must emerge from illiteracy and build bridges between artistry and seership, and that through this new light will fall on art and new warmth will come through art to seership. So that as the fruit of the right efforts in a healing future, a deeply meaningful impulse can work through visionary light and artistic warmth into the development of humanity in the future.

From time immemorial, people have sensed that there is a certain affinity or at least a relationship between the impulses of artistic imagination, artistic creation and enjoyment, and supersensible knowledge. Whoever encounters artistic individuals will realize that there is a widespread fear among creative artists that artistic work could be disturbed by approaching the conscious experience of the supersensible world, from which artistic imagination receives its impulses, as it is striven for in spiritual-scientific supersensible knowledge. On the other hand, it is well known that certain artistic natures, who approach their artistic production with what appears to shine from the supersensible world, experience something like vision within the activity of their creative imagination. Fairytale writers or other artistic individuals who want to deal more with the phenomena from the supersensible world shining into the world of the senses know how the figures appear before their eyes, but are entirely spiritual, so that they have the feeling that they are in contact with these artistic figures, or that these figures are in contact with each other. Insofar as full consciousness is present, through which one can always tear oneself away from what overcomes one in a visionary way, spiritual science can also speak of vision in such a case. It must be said that there are points of contact between artistic creation, artistic imagination and the seeing consciousness that is able to place itself in the spiritual world in a cognizant way. Nevertheless, especially in the face of a spiritual-scientific view such as the one meant here, one feels the need to emphasize that the artist should not allow his originality to be robbed by what is consciously taken in from the spiritual world. In such a view, one overlooks the essential relationship between artistic imagination and the visionary perception of the spiritual world. For what is meant here by this visionary perception is the kind that develops quite independently through mere soul activity, independently of the physical bodily tool. To what extent it is possible for the soul to place itself in the spiritual world free of the body, I cannot explain today. I would just like to say in advance that what arises in terms of kinship and relationships between genuine artistic creation and enjoyment and true, genuine seership is of more interest to anthroposophical spiritual researchers today than the relationship between seership and visionary states, or abnormal states, which, even if attempts are made to describe them as clairvoyance, are nevertheless only related to physical conditions and do not represent solely mental experiences. But to understand this real relationship between artistic imagination and visionary power, it is necessary to look at what, in the strictest sense of the word, separates the two, and that is a very significant one.

Those who create with artistic imagination will not, as is the case with ordinary sensory perception and reflection on what is perceived, comprehend the external sensory world and reproduce it within themselves: they will change it, idealize it, or whatever else one wants to call it. It does not depend on the direction. Whether one conceives realistically or idealistically, whether one is an impressionist or an expressionist, it does not matter, but in everything artistic there is a transformation of what is otherwise recreated by the human being from reality. But what remains alive in artistic creation is what can be called the perception of the external world. The artist adheres to the perception of the external world. What remains in this artistic creation is the image of the ideas that are based on external perception, and what is connected with it in the ability to remember, in the memory. In the artist, everything he has taken in during his life continues to have an effect in the subconscious, and the better that which settled in the soul as an experience continues to have an effect in the soul, the richer the artistic production will be as the personality is directed towards external sensory impressions, the ability to imagine and remember will live in artistic fantasy. This is not the case with the soul life in the vision-gifted personality that penetrates into the spiritual world through supersensible intuition. The essential point is that one can only penetrate into the spiritual world if one can silence both outer sense perception and the faculty of imagination, which runs into memory. Memory, the faculty of perceiving external sense impressions, must be completely silent during supersensible cognition. It is difficult enough to make our contemporaries understand that it is possible for the human soul to achieve such a degree of arousal of its dormant powers, that soul life can still be present in full vividness when the faculty of imagination and perception are suppressed. Therefore, the endeavor for supersensible knowledge, if it is methodically developed, must not be objected that one is dealing with the arbitrary vision only with something reminiscent of the memory, which surges up from the subconscious. The essential thing is that he who, as a spiritual researcher, wants to penetrate into the supersensible world, should learn the method that makes it possible to shut out the memory faculty so completely that his soul lives only in present impressions, into which nothing is mixed from reminiscences arising from the subconscious, so that the soul, with what it presents and experiences, stands in a world that it consciously attempts to penetrate, so that nothing remains unconscious.

When we consider that much mystical, so-called theosophical striving has a yearning for everything that is vague and nebulous, we can understand how what is meant here by seership can be confused with it, even by those who believe they are followers. But that is not the point, but rather what is meant by this seership.

Here we can see how fundamentally different this kind of vision is from artistic creation. Both are based on different states and moods of the soul; but the one who strives for supersensible knowledge in the sense meant here will have special experiences with art.

First of all, a cardinal experience. One cannot be a spiritual researcher from morning till night. Gazing into the spiritual world is tied to a specific time; one knows the beginning and end of the state in which the soul penetrates into the spiritual world. In this state, the soul is able, through its own power, to completely disregard the impressions of the outer senses, so that nothing remains of all the things that the outer senses see as colors and hear as sounds. It is precisely through this gazing into the nothingness that perception of the spiritual world arises. I would like to say: The seer can extinguish everything that comes to him from the outside world, everything that surges up from ordinary memory into mental consciousness, but he cannot extinguish certain impressions that come to him from works of art that really come from the creative imagination, even if he puts himself into this state. I do not mean to say that the seer in such states has the same impressions of the works of art as the non-seer. He has them in non-seer moments. But in seer moments he has the possibility of completely erasing the sensual and the reminiscent with regard to the outside world, but not with regard to a work of art that he encounters.

These are experiences that specify themselves. It turns out that the seer has certain experiences with the individual arts. It is precisely in the details of the effect that words such as “art” lose their usual meaning. From the point of view of supersensible knowledge, the individual arts become realms in themselves. Architecture becomes something different from music, painting and so on. But to get an overview of what seer-like experience is in relation to art, it is necessary to point out that the question suggests itself: if the seer must suppress the effects of the external world and that which belongs to the memory, what remains for him?

Of the three soul activities mentioned in the science of the soul, only two are ever active in the human soul. Imagination and perception are not present, but feeling and willing are, although in a completely different way than in ordinary life. One should not confuse supersensible knowledge with the nebulous, emotional melting into the spiritual world, which must be called mysticism. It must be clearly understood that supersensible knowledge, although it springs from feeling and willing, is something other than feeling and willing. It must be borne in mind that, for seer-knowledge, feeling and willing must fill the soul so completely that the soul is at rest, and that all the other faculties of the human being are also in complete rest. This must occur in a way that is not otherwise possible for the human being through feeling and willing: Feeling and willing must develop entirely inwardly. In the case of seeing, volitional impulses usually develop in revelations to the outside. Dervish-like states and the like are opposed to the knowledge of the spiritual world.

As feeling and willing develop inwardly, a soul activity full of light and sharply contoured springs up from them. A soul activity sprouts up, the formations of thought are similar. The ordinary thought image is something faded. Something objective, but no less imbued with reality than ordinary thinking, sprouts for the seer out of feeling and willing.

The experiences with art in particular can be used to characterize what the seer experiences in detail in his soul abilities. By trying to put himself in the place of the architect in his architectural forms and proportions, in what the architect encloses in his buildings, he feels a kinship with these architectural proportions and harmonies, with that which develops in him, in the seer, as a completely different thinking than the shadowy thinking of ordinary life. One would like to say: the clairvoyant develops a new thinking that is related to nothing so much as to the forms in which the architect thinks and which he fashions. The thinking that rules in ordinary life has nothing to do with true seership. The thinking that rules in seership includes space in its creative experience. The seer knows that with these forms, which are living thought forms, he enters into the supersensible reality behind the sense world, but that he must develop this thinking that lives out in spatial forms. The seer perceives: In all that lives in the harmony of measure and form, will and emotional feeling are active. He learns to recognize the forces of the world in such measure and number relationships through the designs that live in his thinking. Therefore, he feels related in his thinking to what the architect designs. In a certain sense, a new emotional life awakens in him — not that of ordinary consciousness — and he feels akin to what the architect and sculptor create in forms. For supersensible knowledge, a representational intellectuality is born that thinks in spatial forms that curve and shape themselves through their own life. These are thought-forms through which the soul of the seer plunges into spiritual reality; one feels akin to what lives in the forms of the sculptor. One can characterize the seer's thinking and new perception by considering his experiences with architecture and sculpture.

The seer's experiences with music and poetry are quite different. The seer can only develop a relationship to music if he penetrates even further into the sphere I have just described. It is true that this new spiritual intellectuality initially develops out of the feeling and will that are turned inwards. One is able to penetrate into the spiritual world through the experience that one penetrates only through the soul; the soul does not use the physical organization for this. Then comes the next step: one would only penetrate incompletely into the spiritual world if one did not advance to the next level. This consists not only in developing this spiritual intellectuality, but also in becoming aware of one's being outside of the body in the spiritual reality, just as one is aware here of one's existence in the physical world, of one's feet on the ground, of one's grasping at objects and so on. By beginning to know oneself in the spiritual world and to think and feel as I have just said, one comes to develop a new, deep feeling and volition, but a volition in the spiritual world that is not expressed in the sense world. By experiencing this volition, one can only make certain experiences with music and poetry.

It becomes apparent that what is experienced in music in supersensible knowledge is related in particular to the new emotional feeling that is experienced outside the body. Music is experienced differently in the visionary state than in ordinary consciousness: it is experienced in such a way that one feels united with every single note, every melody, living with the soul in the surging, sounding life. The soul is completely united with the tones, the soul is as if poured out into the surging tones. I may well say that there is hardly any other way to get such a precise, such a pictorial view of Aphrodite rising from the sea foam than by considering the way the human soul lives in the element of the musical and rising from it, when it grasps itself in the visionary.

And just as the creatures of the air flutter around Aphrodite as she rises above the sea, approaching her as manifestations of the living in space, so for the seer the musical is joined by the poetic. As he feels himself with his soul as if set apart from the musical element and yet again as if within it, as if identical with it, the poetic element is added to the musical for the seer. He experiences this in an intense form. What he experiences depends on the degree to which he is trained in seership. It is a peculiar thing about poetry. Through language or other means of poetry, the poet expresses what comes to the visionary faculty from poetry. A dramatic person, for example, whom the poet brings to the stage, whom he lets say a few words, is formed from these few words into the complete image of a human personality. That is why, in all that is unreal in poetry, that which is mere empty phrase, that which does not push out of creative power but is made, things seem so unpleasant to the seer: he sees the grotesque caricature in that which is not poetry but still seeks to create something in empty phrases. While the plastic is transformed into spiritual intellectuality, the poetic is transformed into the plastic and the representational, which he must look at. He looks at what is true, what is formed from the true creative laws by which nature creates, and sharply separates this from what is merely created out of human imagination, because one wants to create poetry, even if one is not connected in fantasy with the creative powers of the universe. Such are the experiences in relation to poetry and music.

Supernatural insight experiences painting in a peculiar way. It stands alone for supernatural insight. And because the seer — to use a trivial comparison — is obliged, as the geometrician is obliged to use lines and a compass, to visualize what he could have in mere conception, to make the conception tangible, the seer is also obliged to translate the experience of the spiritual world, what he experiences without form, into a formed, dense world. This happens when he experiences what he experiences in this way in such a way that he transforms it into inner vision, into imagination, and fills it, if I may say so, with soul-material. He does this in such a way that, so to speak, he creates the counterpart to painting in the inner, creative, visionary state. The painter forms his imagination by applying the inner creative powers to sensual perception, which he experiences as he needs them. He comes in from the outside until he transforms what lives in space in such a way that it works in lines, forms, colors. He brings this to the surface of the painterly perception. The seer comes from the opposite direction. He condenses what is in his visionary activity to the point of emotional coloring; he imbues what is otherwise colorless, as if illustrating inwardly with colors, he develops imaginations. One must only imagine in the right way that what the painter brings from one side comes from the opposite side in what the seer creates from within.

To imagine this, read the elementary principles in the last chapters of Goethe's Theory of Colours about the sensual-moral effect of colors, where he says that each color triggers an emotional state. The seer receives this emotional state last, with which he tinges what would otherwise be colorless and formless. When the seer speaks of aura and the like and cites colors in what he sees, one should be aware that he is tinting what he experiences inwardly with these emotional states. When the seer says what he sees is red, he experiences what one otherwise experiences with the red color; the experience is the same as when seeing red, only spiritually.

It is the same thing that the seer sees and that the artist conjures onto the canvas, but seen from different sides. In this way the seer meets the painter. This meeting is a remarkable and significant experience. It reveals painting to be a special characteristic of supersensible knowledge. This is particularly evident in the case of an appearance that must become a special problem for every soul: the incarnate, the color of human flesh, which actually has something equally mysterious and appealing for those who want to penetrate inwardly into such things, allowing one to see deeply into the relationships of nature and spirit. The seer experiences this incarnate in a special way. I would like to draw attention to one particular aspect.

When speaking of clairvoyance, people think that it refers to something that only a few twisted people have, something that is completely outside of life. It is not so. That which is earnest looking is always present in life. We could not stand in life if we were not all clairvoyant for certain things. It is important that the serious seer does not mean something that is outside of life, but that it is only an enhancement of life in certain ways. When are we clairvoyant in our ordinary life? We are clairvoyant in a case that is so little understood today because, from a materialistic point of view, all kinds of craziness have been formed about the way we grasp a foreign ego when we are confronted with a foreign body. There are already people today who say: You only perceive the soul of another human being through a subconscious conclusion. We see the oval of the face, the other human lines, the color of the face, the shape of the eyes. We have become accustomed to finding ourselves face to face with a person when we see something physical like this, so we draw the analogy that whatever is in such a form also contains a person. — It is not so; that is what supersensible knowledge shows. What appears to us in the human form and coloring is a kind of perception, like the perception of color and form in a crystal. The color, form and surface of a crystal present themselves as themselves. The surface and coloring in a human being cancel each other out, making themselves transparent, ideally speaking. The sensory perception of the other person is spiritually extinguished: we perceive the other soul directly. It is an immediate empathy with the other soul, a mysterious and wonderful process in the soul when we stand face to face with another person in our own humanity. There is a real stepping out of the soul, a stepping over to the other. This is a clairvoyance that is present in life always and everywhere. This kind of clairvoyance is intimately connected with the mystery of the incarnate. The seer becomes aware of this when he rises to the most difficult seerical problem: to perceive the incarnate in a seerical way. For the ordinary view, the incarnate has something resting about it; for the seer, it becomes something moved within itself. The seer does not perceive the incarnate as something finished, he perceives it as an intermediate state between two others. When the seer concentrates on the coloring of the person, he perceives a continuous fluctuation between paleness and a kind of blush, which is a higher blush than the ordinary blush, and which for the seer merges into a kind of radiance of warmth. These are the two borderline states between which the coloring of the person oscillates, with the incarnate lying in the middle. For the seer, this becomes a vibrating back and forth. Through the paleness, the seer understands what the person is like inwardly, in their mind and intellect, and through the blush, one recognizes what the person is like as a being of will and impulse, how they are in relation to the external world. What is in the inner character of the person vibrates to a higher degree.

One should not imagine that the path to seeing things spiritually consists of 'developing' oneself and then seeing all people and all things spiritually. The path into the spiritual world is a multifaceted and complicated one. Coming to understand the inner being of another person is the main problem of the experience of incarnation.

Thus you see that the seer has the most diverse experiences with the arts. What is meant here is still somewhat shaded for us by an appearance that is suitable for pointing out the way in which seership stands in life: the relationship of seership to human language.

Language is actually not a unified thing, but something that exists in three different spheres. First, there is a state of language that can be seen as a tool for communication between people and in science. One may call the seer's experience paradoxical, but it is a real one: the seer perceives this use of language as a means of communication and expression for ordinary intellectual science as a kind of demotion of language, even as a debasement of language to something that language is not in its innermost nature. The seer's perception reaches to a different conception. Language is the instrument through which a people lives in community. What lives in language, in the way it is shaped into different forms, in the way sounds are articulated and so on, is, when viewed correctly, artistic. Language as a means of expression of a people is art, and the way language is created is the collective artistic creation of the people who speak that language.

By using language as a means of everyday communication, we degrade it. Anyone with a sense for what lives in language and is revealed in our subconscious knows that the creative aspect of language is akin to the poetic, to art in general. Anyone with an artistic nature has an unpleasant feeling when language is unnecessarily tuned down to the sphere of ordinary communication. Christian Morgenstern had this feeling. He was not anxious to build a bridge between artistry and seership; he did not believe that artistic originality would be lost through the penetration of the intellectual world; he felt that the poetic in him was akin to the plastic and the architectural. He, who expresses what he feels about language by characterizing chatter as an abuse of language, says: “All chatter is based on uncertainty about the meaning and value of the individual word. For the chatterbox language is something vague. But it gives it back to him in abundance: the (vague, the “swimmer.” One must feel what — in order to feel like him — Morgenstern felt as the language-creative: that where language in prose becomes a means of communication, its degradation to a mere purpose takes place.

Thirdly, the experience of the seer with language characterizes what is experienced in the spiritual world. What is seen there is not seen in words, it is not expressed directly in words. Thus, it is difficult to communicate with the outside world in a seerly way, because most people think theoretically and in terms of content in words and cannot imagine a life of the soul that goes beyond words. Therefore, those who experience the spiritual world perceptively feel a certain compulsion to pour into the already formed language that which they experience. But by silencing what otherwise lives in language — the power of imagination and memory — they can awaken in themselves the creative powers of language itself, those creative powers that were active in the development of humanity when language first arose. The seer must place himself in the state of mind when language first arose, must develop the dual activity of inwardly forming spiritual images that he has seen, and immersing himself in the spirit of speech formation so that he can combine the two. It is therefore important to realize that the words of the seer must be understood differently than words usually are. In communicating, the seer must make use of language, but in such a way that he allows what is creatively active in language to arise again, by responding to the formative forces of language. This makes it important that he shapes the spoken word by emphasizing certain things strongly and others less, saying certain things first and others later, or by adding something illustrative. A special technique is necessary for those who want to express spiritual truths in language, when they want to express what lives within them. Therefore, the seer needs to take into account the “how” of how he expresses himself, not just what he says. It is important that he first forms, it depends on how he says things, especially the things about the spiritual world, not just on what he says. Because this is so little taken into account, and because people remember the words by what they otherwise mean, the seer is so difficult to understand. He has a need — this is all only relative — to develop the ability to create language so that he expresses the supersensible through the way he expresses himself. It will become more and more necessary to realize that the important thing is not the content of what is said, but that through the way the seer expresses himself, one has the vivid impression that he is speaking from the spiritual world. Thus, even in ordinary life, language is already an artistic element. The seer also has a special relationship to language.

Now the question arises: What is the basis for such a relationship between the seer and the artist? How is it that basically the seer cannot detach himself from the impression of a work of art? The reason for this is that in the work of art something akin to supersensible knowledge appears, only in a different guise. It is due to the fact that the inner life of man is much more complicated than modern science is able to imagine.

I would like to present this from a different angle, where, however, apparently scientific language is used, and which points to something that must be developed more and more in order to bridge the gap between, on the one hand, the ordinary observation of reality and, on the other hand, the experience in artistic imagination and supersensible knowledge. I will ask: What is it that enables the creative musician to bring forth from his inner being that which lives in his notes? Here we must realize that what is usually called self-knowledge is still abstract. Even what mystics or nebulous theosophists imagine is something very abstract. If one believes that one experiences the divine in one's soul, then this is something very unclear and nebulous before the real, concrete seership. This becomes clear that on the one hand man has his inner experience, his thoughts, feelings, volitional impulses; he can immerse himself in them, call it mysticism, philosophy, science. If one learns to recognize the living, one knows: All this is too thin, even if one tries to condense it inwardly. Even with intense mysticism, one always flutters above reality, does not come close to true reality, only experiences inner images, experiences the effects of reality, and does not experience reality through ordinary contemplation of nature, which faces material processes.

It is true what Dz Bois-Reymond says: that contemplation of nature can never grasp what haunts space. When the natural scientist speaks of matter that exists in space, it does not yield to what we use to grasp reality. For ordinary consciousness, it remains the case that on the one hand we have the inner life, which does not penetrate to reality, and on the other hand we have external reality, which does not yield to the inner life. There is an abyss in between. This abyss, which one must know, is an obstacle to human knowledge. It can only be overcome by developing supersensible vision in the soul, the kind of vision that I have shown today in its relationship to the artistic.

When this vision develops, one enters into an external relationship with oneself and with material reality, which is present as a body. The body becomes something new, it does not remain the brittle, the one that does not surrender to the inner self. The inner self does not remain the one fluttering above reality, but it impregnates itself, permeates itself in its own corporeality with what has material existence in the body. But all material existence contains spiritual existence.

Let us try to visualize this with the help of musical art. While a person is developing musical or other ideas and perceiving them in ordinary consciousness, complicated states are taking place in his physical interior. He knows nothing about them, but they take place. The clairvoyant consciousness penetrates to this inward, complicated, wonderful physical experience. The cerebral fluid, in which the brain is otherwise embedded, pours out into the spinal cord sac when we breathe out, penetrates down, pushes the blood to the lower abdominal veins, and when we breathe in, everything is pushed up. A wonderful rhythm takes place, which accompanies everything we imagine and perceive. This breathing, this plastic art in its rhythm, pushes in and out in the brain. A process takes place that plays a part in human experience. It is something that goes on in the subconscious and of which the soul is aware. Modern physiology and biology are still almost completely ignorant of these things, but this will become a broad science,

In times that can no longer be ours, spiritual life had to be sought in a different way. But the time for seeking spiritual science in the Oriental-Indian way is past; it can be studied afterwards, but the belief that one must go back to Indian methods is completely mistaken. That is not for our time; it would lead humanity astray. Our methods are much more intellectual, but one may see by studying what ancient India was seeking. A large part of the training for higher knowledge in India consisted of a rhythmically ordered breathing process: they wanted to regulate the breathing process. If you compare what they were seeking with what I have just said, you will find that the yoga student wanted to experience within himself what I have described by inwardly feeling the path of breathing. The Indian experienced this by trying to feel the breathing process as it rose and fell.

Our methods are different. Those who follow this with understanding will find that we are no longer to immerse ourselves in the organism in this physical way, but to try to grasp what flows down through the meditative nature of the intellect and what flows up through the exercises of the will, and in this way to try to oppose ourselves to the current with our soul life and to feel it as it flows up and down.

A certain progress in human development depends on this. This is something of which science and everyday consciousness know nothing, but the soul knows it in its depths. What the soul knows and experiences there can, under special circumstances, be brought up into consciousness. It is brought up when the human being is an artist in relation to music. How does this happen? In the ordinary human condition, which one could also call the bourgeois condition, there is a strong connection between the soul and spirit and the physical and bodily. The soul and spirit are strongly tied to the processes just described. If the equilibrium is a labile one, if the soul and spirit are detached, then one is musical or receptive to it through this construction, which is based on inner destiny. The special artistic gift in other fields also depends on this unstable relationship. Those who have this gift are able to bring up what would otherwise only take place down in the soul — in the depths of the soul we are all musical artists. Those who are in a stable equilibrium cannot bring up what takes place there: they are not artists. Those who are in a labile equilibrium — now, as a scientific philistine, one could speak of degeneration — those who are in a labile equilibrium of soul and body, bring up more of what is playing in the inner rhythm, darker or lighter, and shape it through the tone material. If we look at the flow of nerve impulses from bottom to top towards the brain, we first encounter what we characterize as musical. How the optic nerve spreads out in the eye and connects with blood vessels remains in the subconscious. Something is going on that is extinguished when a person is confronted with the external world. When confronted with the external sensory world, the external impression is extinguished. But what takes place between nerve waves and sensory processes has always been a poet; the poet lives in every human being. And it depends on the state of the soul-body balance whether what takes place remains down there or whether it is brought up and poured into poetry.

Let us again consider the radiating process, the wave that strikes downwards, and strikes against the branching of the blood wave: this expresses the placing of our own equilibrium into the equilibrium of our environment. The subconscious experience is particularly strong here, in which the human being moves from the crawling child into upright balance. This is an enormous subconscious experience. The fact that we have this, which is only caricatured in the ape, and which becomes significant for humanity, that the line through the center of the body coincides with the center of gravity, is an enormous inner experience. There one unconsciously experiences the architectural-sculptural relationship. When the downward nerve wave encounters the blood flow, architecture and sculpture are unconsciously experienced, and it is again brought up and shaped to a greater or lesser extent by unstable or stable conditions.

The painting and what is expressed in it is experienced inwardly where nerve and blood waves meet. The artistic process is conscious, but the impulses are unconscious. The visionary consciously immerses himself in what underlies the artistic imagination as an impulse, as an inner experience, which is not characterized in such an abstract way as it is done today, but so concretely that one can find every single phase in the configuration of one's own body. The ancients sensed correctly that, with regard to architecture, every form and every measure is present in one's own self-insertion into the external world. Ancient architecture originates from a different sensing of these proportions than Gothic architecture, but both originate from a sensing of one's own equilibrium with the conditions of the macrocosm. In this way, one recognizes how man, in his own construction, is an image of the macrocosm. That is why the body has been called the temple of the soul. There is much truth in such expressions. Thus we can say that basically the sources from which the artist draws, who is to be taken seriously and has a relationship to reality, are the same sources from which the seer draws, to whom only that which is to remain an impulse in its effect now appears in consciousness, while when the impulse remains in the subconscious, he brings up what is brought to view by the artist.

From this it can be seen that these areas of human experience are strictly separate. Therefore, there is no reason for the anxiety that believes that the artist's originality will be lost through the gift of second sight. The gift of second sight is developed in the same states that can be separated from artistic creation and experience, but the two cannot affect each other if they are properly experienced. On the contrary.

We are at a time when humanity must become more and more aware and conscious, more and more free. That is why the light of art must be poured out by the artist himself, and in this way a bridge will be built between art and vision, which will not interfere with each other.

It is understandable that the artist feels disturbed when art history develops according to the pattern of modern natural science or the rational aesthetics as it is understood today. A knowledge that penetrates real art with vision does not yet exist today; one day artists will not feel disturbed by it, but fertilized by it.

Anyone who works with a microscope knows how to proceed in order to learn how to see. Just as one first penetrates oneself from within with the ability to work properly with a microscope – in this way, the inner view stimulates the outer view, does not hinder it – so will a time come when true seership impregnates and permeates the elementary productive capacity of the artist.

Sometimes, however, what is meant by vision is misunderstood because one thinks of supersensible science and knowledge too much in terms of ordinary sensory science and knowledge. However, people who approach spiritual science sometimes feel disappointed: they do not find convenient answers to their down-to-earth questions, but they do find other worlds that sometimes have much deeper riddles than those in the world of the senses. Through an introduction to spiritual science, new riddles arise that cannot be solved in theory, but promise to dissolve vividly in the process of life and thus create new riddles. If one lives into this higher liveliness, one remains related to art. Hebbel demands conflicts that must remain unresolved, and he finds Grillparzer philistine when, despite all his beauty, he resolves conflicts in a way that only makes sense to someone smarter than his hero. — This is the ultimate goal of true vision: it does not create cheap answers, but rather worldviews that complement the ones we perceive with our senses. Of course, profound artists have already sensed this. In his recently published book “Stufen” (Stages), Morgenstern expresses the idea that anyone who, like the artist, really wants to get to the spiritual must be willing to absorb and unite with what can already be comprehended today, through supersensible knowledge, of the divine-spiritual. He says: “He who only wants to immerse himself in what can be experienced of the Divine-Spiritual today, not penetrating it with knowledge, is like the illiterate person who sleeps all his life with his primer under his pillow.”

This characterizes the point in our culture we are at. If one is able to respond to what is needed in our time, one will, like Morgenstern, have to come to the conclusion: one must not remain illiterate towards clairvoyant knowledge; as an artist, one must seek connections to clairvoyant knowledge. Just as it is significant when the visionary element sheds light on artistic creation, it is equally significant when artistic taste can inspire what, as a form of visionary philistinism, still has nothing artistic and at best something amusing about it. For the true spiritual expert of the future, the bridge that can be built between artistry and vision is more important than any pathological visionary.

Whoever sees through this knows that it will flourish for the good of present and future humanity if more and more spiritual things and spiritual knowledge are sought. The light of vision must shine in art, so that the warmth and grandeur of art may have a fertilizing effect on the breadth and grandeur of the horizon of vision. This is necessary for art, which wants to immerse itself in true existence, as we need it to be able to master the great tasks that must increasingly approach humanity from indeterminate depths.

Some friends who were present at my lectures in Munich on the relationship between spiritual science and art were of the opinion that I should also speak about the thoughts expressed there here in Vienna. And in complying with this wish, I would ask you to accept what I am going to say this evening entirely as meant to be unpretentious and as consisting only of aphoristic remarks about many things that could be said about the relationship between what might be called modern seership, as it is striven for by anthroposophically oriented spiritual science, and artistic creation and the nature of artistic enjoyment.

First of all, there is a certain prejudice against such a consideration as the one to be presented here, and prejudices are not always unfounded. There is a certain well-founded prejudice that is based on the insight that artistic creation, artistic enjoyment, artistic feeling actually have nothing to do with any view of art, with any knowledge of art. And very many people who are involved in the artistic process are of the opinion that they actually do harm to the element of the artistic creation and the artistic enjoyment if they associate thoughts, concepts, and ideas with what one experiences as an artist. I believe, however, that this prejudice is well-founded with regard to everything that can be called abstract, conventionally scientific aesthetics. I think that this science is rightly shunned by the artistic view, because truly artistic feeling is actually desolate, impaired by anything that somehow leads to a conventionally scientific view.

On the other hand, however, we live in an age in which, out of a certain necessity in world history, much of what previously worked unconsciously in man must become conscious. Just as we are no longer able to view the social and societal relationships between people in the light of myth, as was the case in earlier times, but are simply forced by the course of human development to seek our refuge in a real understanding of what is pulsating in the historical process, if we want to recognize what social structure, social togetherness and so on is among human beings, it is also necessary that much of what has rightly been sought in a more or less conscious or unconscious way in the instinctive workings of the human imagination and the like, be raised into consciousness. It would be raised up even if we did not want it. But if it were raised up in a way that was contrary to the progress of creation, the result would be what should be avoided: impairment of the intuitive-artistic, which impairment must be excluded precisely by the living-artistic.

I am not speaking as an esthete, nor as an artist, but as a representative of spiritual scientific research, as a representative of a world view that is imbued with the conviction that, as human development progresses, we will increasingly be able to penetrate into the real spiritual world that underlies our sensory world. I am not speaking of some metaphysical speculation, I am not speaking of some philosophy, but of what I would call supersensible experience. I do not believe that it will take long before it is recognized that all mere philosophical speculation and all logical or scientific endeavor is inadequate to penetrate into the spiritual realm. I believe that we are on the threshold of an epoch that will recognize as a matter of course that there are forces slumbering in the human soul and that these slumbering forces can be drawn out of this soul in a very systematic way. I have described how these slumbering powers in the human soul can be awakened in my various books, in 'How to Attain Knowledge of Higher Worlds', 'Soul Mysteries' and 'The Riddle of Man'. So I understand spiritual knowledge to mean something that is basically not yet there, something that is only taken into account by a few people today, something that is not based on the continuation of already existing knowledge, be it mysticism or natural science, but on the acquisition of a special kind of human knowledge, which is based on the fact that man, through the methodical awakening of certain slumbering soul powers, brings about a state of consciousness that relates to ordinary waking life as this waking life relates to sleeping or dreaming life. Today, we are basically only familiar with these two opposing human states of consciousness: the dull, chaotic consciousness of sleep, which is only seemingly completely empty, only subdued, and the daytime consciousness from waking up to falling asleep. We can relate the mere images of dream life, when the will nature of the human being falls asleep, to the external physical reality, which relates him to the things of the environment. Likewise, as humanity continues to develop, it will come to effect an awakening from this waking consciousness to what I call the seeing consciousness, where one does not have external objects and processes before one, but a real spiritual world that underlies our own.

Philosophers want to open it up; you cannot open it up, only experience it. Just as little as you can experience your physical environment in dream life, you cannot experience the spiritual environment in waking consciousness: not through mysticism, not through abstract philosophy, but by bringing yourself into a different state of mind, by moving from dream life into ordinary waking consciousness.

Thus we speak of a spiritual world from which the spiritual and soul-life emerges just as the physical and bodily life emerges from the sense world. Such spiritual research is, of course, completely misunderstood in its peculiarity today. People are such that they judge what arises among them according to the ideas they already have, some even according to the words they already have. They want to tie in with something already known. As far as the results of the seeing consciousness are concerned, this is not the case, because it is not what is already known. The seeing consciousness, one could, if the word were not misunderstood, call it the visionary, the clairvoyant consciousness, whereby I do not understand anything superstitious. What comes from the visionary is judged by what people already know. Everything of a dubious nature, such as visionary life, hallucinations, mediumship and so on, has been brought close. What I mean here has absolutely nothing to do with any of this. All that I have listed last are the products of the sick soul life, that soul life which is more deeply embedded in the physical body and which brings images from the physical body to the soul. What I call the seeing consciousness takes the opposite path. The hallucinatory consciousness goes below the ordinary state of mind into the physical, while the seeing consciousness goes above the ordinary state of mind, lives and breathes only in the spiritual-mental realm, making the soul completely free from bodily life. In our ordinary consciousness, only pure thinking is free from bodily life, which many philosophers therefore deny because they do not believe that man can unfold an activity that is free from the body. That is the starting point: a seeing consciousness can be trained that develops upwards into the spiritual world, where there is nothing physical around us. This seeing consciousness now feels completely unrelated to any medium or visionary, but it does feel very much related to a real, genuine artistic understanding of the world. That is what I hope and long for, that a bridge could be built between real, genuine seership and artistic experience, whether in creation or in artistic enjoyment, in an unpedantic, artistic way between these two human perspectives.

It is indeed an experience for those who live in a visionary way that the source, the real source from which the artist creates, is exactly the same as that from which the seer, the observer of the spiritual worlds, draws his experiences. The only difference is the way in which the seer attempts to gain his experiences and to express these experiences in concepts and thoughts, and the way in which the artist creates. This is a considerable difference, and one which we may perhaps discuss today. But the source from which the artist and the seer draw is, in reality, one and the same.

Before I go into this question of principle, I would like to make a few preliminary remarks that may seem trivial to some, but which claim nothing less than to show that an artistic world view is not something that is arbitrarily added to life. For someone who strives for a certain totality, for a certain wholeness of life, artistic world view appears as something that belongs to life just as much as knowledge and the external banal hustle and bustle. A dignified existence is inconceivable without the permeation of our cultural life with artistic feeling.

It is important to truly recognize that wherever we go and stand, there is a latent urge within us to perceive the world aesthetically, artistically. I would like to give a few examples of this. However, we often do not become aware of the artistic experience that accompanies our life, our existence between the lines. It lives quite below the threshold of consciousness. If I have to visit someone and I enter their room and the room has red walls, red wallpaper, and they then come and talk to me about the silliest things, or perhaps don't talk at all, behave very boringly, then I feel that there is a falsehood. It remains entirely in feeling; it does not become thought, but I feel that there is untruth. However strange, however paradoxical it may appear, if someone papers his room in red, he disappoints me if he does not bring me something meaningful in thoughts in the red room in which he receives me. This does not need to be true, of course, it does not need to happen, but it does accompany our soul life. We have this feeling deep in our souls. If we enter a room with blue walls and someone spouts words at us, not letting us get a word in edgewise and considering himself the only person of importance, we feel it is at odds with the blue or violet walls of his room. The external prosaic truth need not correspond to this, but there is a special aesthetic truth that is as I have stated it. If I am invited to dinner somewhere, or let's not say snowed in, but politely invited to dinner, and I see that the place setting is red, painted red, I have the feeling that these are gourmets who eat to eat, enjoy eating. If I find a blue place setting, I have the feeling that they don't eat to eat, but that they want to tell each other something while eating, and leave the telling to the telling that otherwise accompanies social gatherings. These are real feelings that always live in the subconscious. If I meet a lady in a blue dress on the street and she shoots at me and behaves aggressively instead of reservedly, I find that contradictory to the blue dress, but I would find it natural if I met a lady in a red dress like that. Of course, I would also find it natural if a lady with snail hair was snappish. There is something that lives in the soul as a fundamental tone. I do not mean to say anything other than that an aesthetic feeling is there, even if we do not bring it to mind, which we cannot exclude: our mood depends on it; we are in a good or bad mood. We know what a good or bad mood is, but only those who engage more closely with things can become aware of the reasons for it. In this lies what might be called the necessity to pass from natural aesthetic feeling to life in art. Art simply accommodates natural life, just as the other ways of looking at people do.

The seer who has developed these powers, of which I have spoken, has a special way of experiencing art, and I believe that, even if not artistically, then at least in terms of the evaluation and perception of art, something can be gained from the special experience of seership in relation to art. The seer, who awakens his soul in such a way that he can have a spiritual world around him, is always able to turn his soul life away, to distract it from all that is merely external, sensual reality. If I have before me – I speak in the third person, not individually – a piece of external physical object or process, I am always able, in the space where the object is, to exclude perception for myself, so that I see nothing of the physical in that space. That is the real abstraction that is possible for seership. It can only be done with natural objects, not with what is truly artistically created. And I consider that to be something significant. When confronted with a work of art, the seer is not able to completely exclude the object, the artistic process, just as he can exclude an external process. What is truly artistic creation, imbued with spirit, remains spiritually before the consciousness of the seer.

This is the first thing that can testify to us that truly artistic creation and visionary beholding come from the same source. But there is much more that is very significant in this direction. You see, the seer, when he applies the means that develop his soul, comes to a very different way of conceiving as well as willing. If we use ordinary expressions, we can of course say that both the conceiving and the willing become inward, but this 'inward' is actually not correct, because one is still outside, spreading one's whole view over a real spiritual world. A different conceiving and a different willing occurs in seership.

The visualization does not proceed in abstract thoughts. Abstract thoughts are something that is suitable for the physical world, for registering it in its phenomena, for finding natural laws, and so on. The seer does not think in such thoughts, he does not think in abstractions, he thinks in thoughts that are actually weaving images. This is still somewhat difficult to understand in the present, because it is not yet fully known what is meant by an activity that is actually a thinking, but which does not think abstract thoughts and follows things, living in the forms and configurations of things. This imagining can be compared to the formation of surfaces and curves, as the mathematician does. But it comes to life inwardly, as Goethe attempted in his theory of metamorphosis in its elementary state. Today, the inward, visual imagination can become much more alive. This visual imagination is extraordinarily akin to the basis of certain areas of creative art, namely sculpture and architecture.

The strange thing is that in relation to this new thinking, this new imagining that the seer acquires, he feels most akin to the forms that the truly artistic architect develops and the forms that the sculptor must base his work on. There is really something like architectural visualization, or visualization in sculptural forms, that is capable of following things in the visionary grasp of the world in such a way that one learns to understand them in their spiritual inwardness, and also learns to transcend them, to rise purely into the spiritual world. With abstract thoughts one can learn nothing about the inner nature of things. The seer feels akin to the architect and the sculptor in his new thinking. He must think the world in the way of spiritualizing that unconsciously or subconsciously underlies the work of the sculptor and the architect. This prompts one to inquire as to the source of this. The question arises: What is it that the seer actually uses? He uses certain hidden senses, senses that are present in ordinary life but that only resonate softly and are not fully expressed in ordinary life. For example, we have a sense that could be called the sense of balance. We live in it, but we are only aware of it to a limited extent, not fully consciously. When we take a step, for example, or stretch out or bend our hand, all these actions that bring us into some kind of relationship with space are connected with a perception that does not quite reach our consciousness, as it does with seeing and hearing, except that these senses are much louder and more clearly audible. But this sense of balance and the related sense of movement are only subtly present because they are not just meant for our inner life, but convey our place in the cosmos. How I stand in the cosmos, whether I am walking towards the sun or away from it and feel that I am drawing closer and closer to the light, and at the distance the light feels dimmed in some way, this feeling of being inside the whole of the world is something that cannot be described in any other way than to say: man in his movement is constructed as a microcosm out of the macrocosm and experiences as a microcosm his being placed in the macrocosm through such a sense.

When a sculpture is created, it is nothing more than perceptions of a usually hidden meaning being translated into the design of external surfaces and the like. What we as human beings always carry with us in our feeling for the world is unconsciously expressed in architecture and sculpture. However strange this observation may at first seem, anyone who is truly able to explore psychically the relationship between individual architectural forms, what lives in the sculptor's imagination as he shapes his surfaces, knows that what I have just hinted at plays a mysterious part in this creative work. The seer does nothing other than to bring this sense of placing oneself in the world to full consciousness. He develops it in the same way that the architect, the sculptor, is artistically prompted by what he feels in his body to shape as forms in the external material. From this point of view, one sees certain things; I could not only talk for many hours in this regard, I could talk for days. Anyone who acquires a feeling for sculpture knows that mere imitation is not truly sculptural. Those who try to answer the question “What is actually in the sculptural?” perceptively, not abstractly, cannot say that a surface is only significant to them because it imitates a surface in the human body and the like that exists in external nature. That is not it. What is experienced in the sculptural is the intrinsic life of the surface. Anyone who has discovered the difference between a surface that is curved only once and one that is curved again knows that no surface that is curved only once can somehow have sculptural life within itself. Only a surface that is curved within its curvature can express life as a surface. This inner expression – not symbolic, but artistic – is what is at issue here, not imitation, not adhering to the model, this is what constitutes the secret of the two-dimensional itself.

This touches on a question that is indeed as unresolved as possible in the present day. Not only do we see many people today enjoying art, which is quite right, but we also see many people judging art almost professionally. Now, I believe that, precisely on the basis of the premises underlying today's considerations, I really do not have to express a critical judgment, but simply express what comes more and more to mind: I do not believe that anyone who has never kneaded clay, who is only a critic, can ever get an idea of what is actually essential to sculpture. I do believe that everyone can enjoy art, but I don't believe that anyone can judge art who has not made those attempts that have shown him what artistic forms can be realized within the material. Because very different things are realized in reality by the material than mere imitation of the model and the like. Mere imitation of the model is thus artistically no more valuable than the imitation of the nightingale's song through the use of certain tones. Real art begins where nothing is imitated anymore, but where something new and creative is created. In architecture – not in music, but very much so in sculpture – we draw on the model. But something that is somehow imitative in relation to the model is not art. Art begins where imitation can no longer be spoken of. And what works and weaves as an independent spiritual reality, unconsciously by the artist, consciously by the seer, is what is common to the seer's perception of the world and the artist's creation, except that it is also expressed spiritually by the seer, and by the artist, because he cannot express it, but only has it unconsciously in his hands, in his imagination, to which “material can be incorporated.

The seer feels a completely different affinity with the poetic and the musical arts. It is particularly interesting in the case of music how the seer experiences his experiences in a different way when he enters the realm of art with his seership. I must make a comment about what I call seeing: I do not mean all the time, but only in the moments when one puts oneself in this state. Therefore, it does not apply that the seer experiences the musical in other times than when he wants, as it is now described. At other times, he experiences music as any other person does. He can compare what he experiences musically and what he experiences when he sees the musical work of art. When it comes to musical works of art, it is important that the seer is clear about experiencing music in such a way that it is entirely spiritual, and in such a way that the concrete spiritual feels a direct connection to the musical. I have said before that the seer develops a new power of imagination, he visualizes in such a way that he feels at home in architectural and sculptural creation. — In that the seer not only grasps things imaginatively, but also develops feeling and pictorial powers, but in such a way that they enter into a union, one cannot speak of a separation of feeling and willing; one must speak of a feeling will and a willing feeling, of an experience of the soul that connects these two, which usually go hand in hand in ordinary consciousness, to form the totality of feeling will. Sometimes this sentient volition is more nuanced towards volition, at other times more towards feeling. When the seer, in the elevated spiritual state of soul, places himself in the realm of music, he experiences everything that occurs in his soul with the nuance of feeling in the truly musical, in the genuine musical. He experiences it in such a way that he does not separate the objective tone and the subjective tone experience from one another, but that these are one in the visionary experience, that the soul flows as the tones flow into one another, only that everything is spiritualized. He experiences his soul poured out into the musical element; he knows that what he experiences through the newly formed feeling volition is woven into the tone substance by the musician from the same source. It is particularly interesting to investigate the origin of the fact that the creative musician brings up from the unconscious the spiritual that the seer beholds and lays it into his material. In the realm of music, there is a revelation of what underlies it.

In all unconscious phenomena that occur in the life of the soul, the miracle structure of our organism plays a role in a completely different way. It is becoming more and more apparent that our organism should not be regarded in the way that it is by the ordinary biologist and physiologist, but that it must be regarded as an image of a spiritual model. What the human being carries within him is the image of a spiritual model. The human being enters into existence through birth or through conception, and he applies the laws of heredity that are his, as well as that which descends from a spiritual world and behaves in relation to the physical in such a way that the physical is truly an image of the spiritual. How this comes about, I cannot explain today. The fact exists that in our organism such a working takes place, which proceeds according to spiritual-pictorial laws. With music, this is particularly remarkable. We believe that when we enjoy music, the ear is involved and perhaps the nervous system of our brain, but only in a very external way. Physiology is only just beginning in this field and will only reach a certain level when artistic ideas are incorporated into this physiological and biological area. There is something completely different at the root of it than the mere hearing process or what takes place in the nervous system of our brain. What underlies the sense of music can be described as follows: every time we breathe out, the brain, the head space, the inner space of the head, is caused by breathing to let its brain water descend through the spinal cord sac into the diaphragm region; a descent is caused. The inhalation corresponds to the reverse process: the brain water is driven against the brain. There is a continuous rhythmic up and down movement of the cerebral fluid. If this were not the case, the brain would not lose as much of its weight as is necessary to prevent it from crushing the underlying blood vessels; if it did not lose so much of its weight, it would crush our blood vessels. This cerebral fluid moves up and down in the arachnoid space, in expansions that are elastic and less elastic, so that when it rises and falls, the cerebral fluid flows over the less elastic expansions, over some that expand more or less. This gives a very wondrous way of working within a rhythm. The whole human organism, apart from the head and limbs, expresses itself in this inner rhythm. What flows in through the ear as sound, what lives in us as a sound image, becomes music when it encounters the inner music that is played by the fact that the whole organism is a strange musical instrument, as I have just described.

If I were to describe everything to you, I would have to describe a wonderful inner human music, which is not heard but is experienced inwardly. What is experienced musically is basically nothing more than the response of an inner singing of the human organism. This human organism is, precisely in relation to what I have just described, the image of the macrocosm: that we carry within us, in the most concrete laws, more strictly than natural laws, this lyre of Apollo, on which the cosmos plays within us. Our organism is not what biology alone recognizes, but it is the most wonderful musical instrument.

One can cite very rough things to show how man is built according to strange cosmic laws. To cite the most trivial thing: we take eighteen breaths on average in one minute. Let's calculate how many that is in a twenty-four hour day: that's 25,920 breaths; that's how many breaths in a whole day. Let's calculate a human day. We can calculate a person's day, although many people grow older, to be between seventy and seventy-one years: a person's day. Try to calculate how much that is for a single twenty-four-hour day! 25,920 – that's how many breaths you take in one day! The world breathes us out and breathes us in as we are born and as we die. It takes just as many breaths during a human day as we do during a twenty-four-hour day.

Take the Platonic solar year. The sun rises in a certain sign of the zodiac. The vernal point moves on. In ancient times, the sun rose in the sign of Taurus, then in Aries, now in Pisces. Modern astronomy schematizes. This vernal point apparently goes around the whole sky – but apparently, but that is not important – and of course, after a significant number of years, it arrives at the same point again: after 25,920 years. The Platonic solar year is 25,920 years long! Take a human day of 71 years: it has 25,920 individual days; take a single human day of 24 hours: it has 25,920 breaths in the experience. You see, we are integrated into the rhythm of the world. I believe — and one could engage in many reflections on this point — that there is no more abstract religious concept that could evoke such fervor as the awareness that one's own outer physical organism is so embedded in the macrocosm, in the cosmic structure. The seer attempts to penetrate this embeddedness in a spiritual way. It lives itself out in our inner music: What comes out of the organism, what strikes up into the soul — the soul's resonance, resonating with the cosmos — is the unconscious element of artistic creation. The whole world resonates when we truly create artistically.

There you have the common source between being an artist and being a seer: unconsciously in the artist, by incorporating the laws of the world into the material; consciously in the seer, by attempting to behold the purely spiritual through the seeing consciousness.

By studying these things in this way, one learns to recognize what causes the artist to unconsciously incorporate what is entrusted to the material. Just as inner music lives in our respiratory system, which then becomes outer music in art, so too does poetry live there. In this respect, today's physiology is still very far behind. Because if you want to understand it, it is not the sensory physiology or the nervous physiology of the brain that needs to be studied, but the border area where the brain and nervous system converge. It is precisely at this border, in the physiological area where, if a person is predisposed to it – you always have to be predisposed to the artistic – that the source of poetic creation lies. And the seer finds the poetic creation most particularly when he enters into the realm of his inner experience, where the feeling-will inclines more toward the side of the will. Otherwise, the will expresses itself in the entire physical body; in that which is the imagination, the will lives where the brain and nerves and sense organs meet: that is where the poetic images are generated. When this is detached from the physical, it is the feeling will through which the seer enters into the realms from which the poet draws from the same source. Therefore, through this feeling, willing sense of the seer, when he appropriates the state of mind in order to enjoy the poetic with his state of mind, he feels in a peculiar position vis-à-vis the poetic. He must see what the poet creates. This leads to the fact that at the moment when the poet presents one thing or another, not drawing from reality but presenting something that is actually merely imagined, composed, unreal, inartistic, at that moment the seer sees in a creative way what is presented. A person who is not a seer does not feel so strongly when the playwright presents an unreal figure. The seer, for example, cannot feel about Thekla from “Wallenstein” other than as if she were made of papier-mâché, so that when he looks at her, he sees her knees buckling. And this with a great poet! Every deviation from reality, every failure to depict reality, is felt in such a way that the seer must recreate in plastic form precisely what the poet creates, and he withdraws his thinking from the plastic. The seer submerges himself in an inner plastic in relation to the poet. The peculiar thing about this is that in the poetic, the seeing consciousness creates sculpture, which is why the seer sees caricatures in what is often truly much praised. But the satirist cannot but see in many a dramatic performance, in which it is not even noticed that the figures are only puppets stuffed with tow, such puppets marching across the stage, or they arise before him when he reads the drama. Therefore, the seer can endure torments through what is brought about by fashion folly or otherwise, because he sees what is created formlessly in mere poetry.

Christian Morgensiern, who aspired to seership, made a beautiful statement. It can be found in the last volume of his posthumous works, in the “Stufen”. There he says, wanting to characterize his own soul, that he feels close to the architectural, the sculptural. This is the feeling: When one aspires towards the visionary, inwardly the poetic aspect is transformed into the plastic. When one looks at it this way, one can never believe that the visionary, with its inner mobility and its response to spiritual entities, can have a scorching and paralyzing effect on the artist, but only as a good friend, a good patron. They cannot disturb each other. Only things that flow together can disturb each other. But the seer can never allow his seership to disturb his artistry; he can permeate it with his seership. They are completely separate from each other; flowing from the same source, they can never disturb each other in life. This is no longer sufficiently felt.

The seer has a very difficult time making himself understood to people. He has to use language. But language has something very peculiar about it. It only appears to be a unity; in reality it is a tripartite thing. One experiences it namely on three levels. First, as we have it, in the way we communicate from person to person in everyday life, in the way we live our philistine lives and say the words that have to flow from person to person in order to shape that philistine life. Anyone who has a vivid sense of language, who experiences language through the eyes of a seer, cannot help but feel that the use of language as just described is a debasing of it. Perhaps one will say: Man is grumbling about life. He merely recognizes that not everything can be perfect, and thus refrains from creating perfection in a sphere where imperfection must necessarily prevail. In the outer physical life it is absolutely necessary that there should be imperfections: trees must also wither, not only grow. There must always be imperfection in life for perfection to arise. Language is pressed down from its original level, is pushed to a subordinate level. And the way we use language in life, we could only become a schoolmaster, then we would only turn a withered, dried-up, philistine state into a straw-like being, but otherwise we would achieve nothing. Words cannot have the values that they have by themselves, because language, as the property of a people, lives on its own level and, on its own level, is an artificial construct, not a prosaic one. It is not there to facilitate communication in everyday life; as an expression of the national spirit, it is an artificial construct. We belittle it, but we have to, by pressing that which is actually an artistic creation down into the prose of life. It only comes into its own in the poetic creations of a people when the spirit of language truly reigns. That is the second way in which language lives.

The third way is only experienced in the realm of seeing. One is in a strange position: for if one wants to express what is seen, one does not have the words of the language. They are not there in reality. Just as one learns to speak in any language and uses the words to express what one wants, one cannot express what one has as a seer's vision. The words are not shaped for it. Therefore, the seer has the need to express some things quite differently. He is always struggling with language to be able to say what he wants to say. He has to choose the way to put some thing into a sentence that approximately expresses what he wants to say; he has to say a second sentence that says something similar. He must count on the goodwill of his listeners so that one sentence illuminates the other. If this goodwill is lacking, then people want to criticize various contradictions. The one who really has something to express must work in contradictions, and one contradiction must illuminate the other, since the truth lies in the middle. By putting oneself in this position, one arrives at something in terms of language that already expresses the relationship between the artistic and the visionary in this field. The seer must count on goodwill to seek to penetrate more into how he says the thing than what he says. He strives to say much more in the way he says the thing than in what he says. He gradually succeeds in transporting himself back to the spirit of language creativity that prevailed before any language came into being, to re-immersing himself in the sounds, in the genius of the sounds, to submerging himself in it with his mind. He sees how a vowel is enclosed, how a vowel soon flows into this or that language. In order to transport himself back into the language-creative state of his people, the seer is compelled to express himself more through the how than through the what. In this way, one can distinguish in language the stages that stand side by side, artistically and seerically. Because they are experienced separately, they cannot disturb each other; on the other hand, they can support each other because, when they live side by side, they illuminate each other. The time may come when hostility towards the visionary on the part of the artistic side will no longer be tolerated, nor the opposite on the visionary side. For unfortunately all that is false scholasticism tends too much towards a supersensible philistinism. To clothe everything that is not seen with the external senses in visionary seeing is hostile to artistry. But what is really grasped by the seeing consciousness of the spiritual world is already the same as what lives unconsciously in artistic creation and in aesthetic perception. It is commonly believed that the clairvoyance referred to here is something quite alien to man; it is present in human life, only in an area where it goes unnoticed.

There is a great difference in the way we face a plant, a mineral, an animal or another human being. External things affect me through what they are with the help of my sense organs. When one person faces another, the senses work quite differently. In our time, people are quite averse to grasping the spiritual. People say that some fields have overcome materialism – yes, people talk about that today. They can find such arguments, but they say: When I stand opposite a person, I see the shape of his nose, and from such a shaped nose I conclude that he is a human being. An analogy. There is no such thing in reality. He who can perceive the world seerically knows where conclusions lie; these conclusions to the analogous do not exist. The soul of man is perceived directly; his external sensuality is such that it is annulled. This is very important to bear in mind when considering another art, because it makes clear to us the juxtaposition of seership and artistic skill.

When we stand face to face with a person, we look at him, and we do not know that what appears of him appears in such a way that it cancels itself out, that he makes himself spiritually transparent. Every time I stand face to face with a person, I see him clairvoyantly. The seer has a very special problem where the person stands opposite him: this is the mysterious incarnate. The seer sees the incarnate parts of a person not in a static way, but rather in an oscillating movement. When he is standing opposite a person, he sees a state in which what appears on the person fades, and then again, where the person, when warmed, becomes redder than he is. The physical form oscillates between these extremes, so that it appears to the seer as if the human form changes, reddens with shame and pales with fear, as if it were constantly establishing its normal state between feelings of fear and shame, just as the pendulum has its point of rest between swinging up and down. The complexion as it appears to us in the external world is only an intermediate state. The seen complexion is connected with something that remains unconscious to the human being: it makes possible the first unconscious glimpse behind the scenes. The way the human complexion is seen by the seer, so that he sees in it something soul-like in the sense-perceptible — the seer beholds in the complexion something sense-supersensuous — so everything that is out there in color and form is gradually transformed in such a way that one sees it spiritually. He beholds it in such a way that he perceives something inward in all that is otherwise colored, the impression of form. You will find the most elementary of this in Goethe's sensual-moral part of the “Theory of Colors”. The whole theory of colors becomes an experience, but in such a way that the seer experiences the spiritual in it. He also experiences the rest of the spiritual world in such a way that he has the same experiences that he otherwise has of colors. In my “Theosophy” you will find that the soul is seen in the form of a kind of aura. It is described in colors. Coarse people who do not go into the matter in greater depth, but write books themselves, believe that the seer describes the aura by saying that there really is a mist in front of him. What the seer has before him is a spiritual experience. When he says the aura is blue, he is saying that he has a soul-spiritual experience that is as if he were seeing blue. He describes everything he experiences in the spiritual world and what is analogous to what can be experienced in the sensual world in terms of colors.

This gives an indication of the way the seer experiences painting. It is a different experience from that of any other art. In the presence of every other art, one has the feeling that one is immersed in the artistic element itself. One has the element, goes to a limit, where the seership ends. If the seer were to continue, he would have to put this color here and that color there; if he were to continue, he would have to tint what he experiences entirely in colors. If he experiences painting, it comes to meet him from the other side. The painter, by painting what is formed out of light and dark, brings his artistic work exactly to the point where painting meets seeing, where the seeing begins. And that is exactly where the seeing begins, where, if one wanted to continue it outwardly, one begins to paint. When one has a concrete seer-like vision, one knows: one should paint this color with the brush, and next to it the other. Then one begins to grasp the secret of color, to understand what is written in my mystery drama “The Portal of Initiation”, that the form of color is a work, that actually drawing lines is an artistic lie. There is no line. The sea does not border on the sky with a line; where the colors border on one another, there is the boundary. I can help myself with a line, but it is only the consequence of the interaction of colors. The secrets of color are revealed to you. You learn that you perform an inner movement, that movement lives in what you paint. You know: you cannot do it any other way than by treating the blue in a certain way. You live with color its inwardness. That is the special thing about painting, that the visionary and the artistic, the creative, touch each other.

If one understands what is at stake in this field, then one will see that what is meant by the visionary can be very much in harmony with artistic creation, that they can stimulate and inspire each other. However, it will become more and more apparent that those who have never held a paintbrush and know nothing of what can be done should not judge from abstract principles. Criticism from outside art, critical criticism, will perhaps have to retreat when friendship between artistry and vision arises. But precisely what is meant here by modern spiritual science is something quite different from what was formerly called aesthetics and is so called today. Artists have told me that such people are called “aesthetic grunters of delight”. Aesthetic bliss is not what is meant here; it is a life in the same element in which the artist also lives, only that the seer experiences in the pure spiritual what the artist forms. I would like to say that this also seems to me to be one of the many things that help humanity. I believe that the times when it was thought that the elementary and original would be affected by what is explored through the spirit will come to an end.

Christian Morgenstern said: “Anyone today who still believes that they should not grasp that which lives in the world as spiritual in clear ideas, but only wants to reach it in a dark, mystical contemplation, is like an illiterate who, with the reading book under his pillow, wants to sleep away his entire life in illiteracy. We are living in a time when much of what is subconscious must be raised into consciousness. The art of seeing will only then have found its true home when it rises above all philosophy and feels akin to the art of creating. I believe that in this field, too, there is something that is connected with the significant questions of human development. More and more will be understood of the fact that the sense world is based on a supersensible one. What can be recognized by supersensible vision cannot be an arbitrary addition to life, but what is true is what Goethe said from his experience of life: “He to whom nature begins to reveal her secret feels an irresistible longing for her most worthy interpreter, art.” — Anyone who wants to understand how art is part of life as a whole, of its overall development, anyone who truly understands art in its essence, and feels it while understanding, must admit to themselves that this is aided by the gift of sight, that the gift of sight will be something that, in the future, will stand hand in hand with the artist, providing new inspiration and support.

What humanity needs to take in, with an eye to developmental necessities, is an expansion of consciousness in all areas of life. Humanity lives today in such a way that what it does, what it engages in, is actually only linked to the events between birth and death. In everything that happens, we only ask about what takes place between birth and death. It will be essential for the recovery of our lives that we ask about more than just this period of time in our lives, which we spend under very special conditions. Our life includes what we are and do between birth and death, and also what we are and do between death and a new birth. In this materialistic age, people are not very aware of the role played by the life between death and birth that we have gone through before descending to this life through birth or conception; nor are they aware of how things are already taking place in this life here in the physical body that point to the life we will lead after death. Today we want to point out a few things that can show how certain cultural areas will take on a different view of the whole of human life, in that human consciousness will and must extend beyond life in the supersensible worlds.

I believe that a certain question may arise for people when they consider the full extent of our artistic life. Let us look at the supersensible life from this perspective today. Something will emerge from it that can later be used to look at social life.

We know that the actual high arts are sculpture, architecture, painting, poetry and music, and we are adding something to these arts from certain foundations of anthroposophical life and knowledge, such as eurythmy. The question that I mean, which could arise for people in relation to the arts, would be: What is the positive, the actual reason for introducing art into life? In the materialistic age, art has only to do with the immediate reality that takes place between birth and death. In this materialistic age, however, people have forgotten the supersensible origin of art and more or less merely aim to imitate what is in the external, sense-perceptible world. But anyone who has a deeper feeling for nature on the one hand and for art on the other will certainly not be able to agree with this imitation of natural existence in art, with naturalism. For the question must always be raised again and again: Can, for example, the best landscape painter somehow conjure up the beauty of a natural landscape on canvas? A person who is not educated will have the feeling, even in the presence of a naturalistically conceived landscape, however good it may be, that I expressed in the preface to my first mystery, The Portal of Initiation: that no imitation of nature will ever be able to reach nature. Naturalism will have to prove itself contrary to feeling for the better-sensed. Therefore, only that which goes beyond nature in some way will be recognized by the discerning observer as legitimate in art. It is that which attempts to give something other than what mere nature can present to man, at least in the way it is presented. But why do we, as human beings, develop art at all? Why do we go beyond nature in sculpture and poetry?

Anyone who develops an appreciation of the world's interconnections will see how, for example, a sculptor works in a unique way to capture the human form, how an attempt is made to express the human in the shaping of the form; how we cannot simply take the human form, as it appears to us in a natural man, suffused with inner inspiration, with flesh tints, with everything we see in a natural man except the form, we cannot incorporate this into the form when we are creating a sculptural work of art, when we are creating a human being. But I believe that the sculptor who creates human beings will gradually develop a very special sense. And I have no doubt that the Greek sculptor had the feeling I am about to describe, and that it was only in the naturalistic era that this feeling was lost.

It seems to me that the sculptor who forms the human figure has a completely different way of feeling when he sculpts the head and when he sculpts the rest of the body. These two things are actually fundamentally different from each other in the work: sculpting the head, and sculpting the rest of the body. If I may express myself somewhat drastically, I would like to say: when you are working on the sculptural design of the human head, you have the feeling that you are constantly being absorbed by the material, that the material wants to draw you into itself. But when you are sculpting the rest of the human body, you have the feeling that you are actually pricking and pushing into the body everywhere without authorization, that you are pushing into it from the outside. You have the feeling that you are shaping the rest of the body from the outside, that you are forming the forms from the outside. You have the feeling that when you shape the body, you are actually working inside it, and you have the feeling when you shape the head that you are working out of it.

This seems to me to be a very peculiar feeling in plastic design, which was certainly still characteristic of the Greek artist and which was only lost in the naturalistic period, when one began to be a slave to the model. One wonders: where does such a feeling come from when one intends to form the human figure with a view to the supersensible?

All this is connected with much deeper questions, and before I go on to this, I would like to mention one more thing. Just consider how strongly one has the feeling of a certain inwardness of experience in relation to sculpture and architecture, despite the fact that sculpture and architecture apparently form externally in the external material: In architecture, one inwardly experiences the dynamics, one inwardly experiences how the column supports the beam, how the column develops into the capital. One inwardly experiences that which is outwardly formed. And in a similar way it is the case with sculpture.

This is not the case with music, and it is especially not the case with poetry. In poetry, it seems quite clear to me that in the shaping of the poetic material it is, to put it drastically, as if when one begins to shape the words – which one can still hold in one's larynx when speaking prose – into iambs or trochees, when one puts them into rhyme, they run away and one has to chase after them. They inhabit the atmosphere around you more than your inner self. You feel poetry much more externally than, for example, architecture and sculpture. And it is probably the same with music if you focus your feelings on it. Musical notes also animate your entire surroundings. You actually forget space and time, or at least space, and you live out of yourself in a moral experience. You don't have the feeling that you have to chase after the figures you create, as you do with poetry; but you do have the feeling that you have to swim in an indeterminate element that spreads everywhere and that you dissolve in the process of swimming.

There, you see, one begins to nuance certain feelings towards the whole essence of the artistic. One gives these feelings very specific characteristics. What I have described to you now, and what, I believe, the fine artistically sensitive can empathize with, cannot be believed when one looks at a crystal or any other mineral natural product, or at a plant or an animal or a physically real human being. One feels and senses differently in relation to the whole of external physical and sensory nature than one feels and senses in relation to the individual branches of artistic experience that I have just described.

One can speak of supersensible knowledge as transforming ordinary abstract knowledge into intuitive knowledge and can point the way to experiential knowledge. It is absurd to demand that in higher fields, one should prove in the same pedantic, logical, philistine way as one proves in the rough natural sciences or the like or in mathematics. If one familiarizes oneself with what the sensations become when one enters the field of art, then one gradually enters into strange inner states of mind. Very definite nuances of soul state arise when one really experiences the plastic, the architectural, inwardly, when one goes along with the dynamics, mechanics, and so on, in architecture, when one goes along with the rounding of the form in sculpture. A remarkable path is taken by the inner world of feeling: here one is confronted with an experience of the soul that is very similar to memory. Those who have the experience of remembering, the experience of memory, notice how the architectural and sculptural feeling becomes similar to the inner process of remembering. But then again, remembering is on a higher level. In other words, by way of the feeling for architecture and sculpture, one gradually comes close to the soul feeling, the soul experience, which the spiritual researcher knows as the memory of prenatal states. And indeed, the way one lives between death and a new birth in connection with the whole universe, by feeling that one moves as a spiritual soul or a spiritualized spirit in certain directions, crossing paths with beings , one is in balance with other beings, and what one experiences and lives between death and a new birth is initially remembered subconsciously and is in fact recreated in architectural art and sculpture.

And when we relive this spatial quality with our inner presence in sculpture and architecture, we discover that we actually want nothing more in sculpture and architecture than to somehow conjure up into the physical-sensory world the experiences we had in the spiritual world before our birth, or before our conception. When we build houses not purely according to the principle of utility, but when we build houses that are architecturally beautiful, we shape the dynamic relationships as they arise from our memory of experiences, of experiences of balance, of vibrating formative experiences and so on, which we had in the time between death and this birth.

And in this way one discovers how man actually came to develop architecture and sculpture as arts. The experience between death and the new birth rumbled in his soul. He wanted to bring it out somehow and put it in front of him, and he created architecture and he created sculpture. That humanity in its cultural development has produced architecture and sculpture is essentially due to the fact that the life between death and birth has an effect, that the human being wants this out of his inner being: as the spider spins, so he wants to bring out and shape what he experiences between death and this birth. He carries the experiences from before birth into physical, sensual life. And what we see in the overview of the architectural and sculptural works of art that people create is nothing other than the realization of unconscious memories of the life between death and this birth.

Now we have a real answer to the question of why man creates art. If man were not a supersensible being who enters into this life through conception or birth, he would certainly not create any sculpture or architecture.

And we know what a peculiar connection exists between two successive or, let us say, three successive earthly lives: what you have today as a head is, in the formative forces, the headless body of your previous incarnation, and what you have today as a body will transform into your head by the next incarnation. The human head has a completely different meaning: it is old; it is the transformed previous body. The forces that one has experienced between the previous death and this birth have formed this outer form of the head; the body, which carries within itself the seething forces that will be formed in the next earthly life.

So there you have the reason why the sculptor feels differently about the head than about the rest of the body. With the head, he feels something like: the head wants to absorb him because the head is formed from the previous incarnation through forces that reside in its present forms. With the rest of the body, he feels something like: he wants to push into it and the like, by developing it plastically, because the spiritual forces that lead through death and lead across to the next incarnation are seated in it. The sculptor in particular senses this radical difference between the past and the future in the human body. What the formative forces of the physical body are, and how they work from incarnation to incarnation, is expressed in plastic art. What is now seated deeper in the etheric body, which is our equilibrium carrier, the carrier of our dynamics, comes out more in architectural art.

You see, you cannot really grasp human life in its entirety if you do not take a look at the supersensible life, if you do not seriously answer the question: How do we come to develop architecture and sculpture? — The fact that people do not want to look at the supersensible world stems from the fact that they do not want to look at the things of this world in the right way.

Basically, how do most people react to the arts that reveal a spiritual world? Actually, like a dog to human speech. The dog hears human speech, but probably thinks it is barking. Unless he is a “Mannheim Rolf,” he does not perceive the meaning that lies within the sounds. This was an apt dog that caused quite a stir some time ago among people who deal with such useless arts. This is how man stands before the arts, which actually speak of the supersensible world that man has experienced: he does not see in these arts what they actually reveal.

Let us look, for example, at poetry. Poetry clearly emerges for those who can feel it through – but when characterizing such things, one must always bear in mind that, with some variation, Lichtenberg's saying applies: Ninety-nine percent more is written than our globe's humanity needs for its happiness, and than is real art – real poetry emerges from the whole person. And what does it do? It does not stop at prose: it shapes prose, it introduces meter and rhythm into prose. It does something that the prosaic man of the world finds superfluous for life. It specially shapes that which – already unformed – would give the meaning that one wants to associate with it. When you listen to a recitation, which is real art, and you get a sense of what the poetic artist makes out of the content of the prose, then you get a peculiar character of the sensations. One cannot perceive the mere content, the prose content of a poem as a poem. One perceives as a poem how the words roll in iambs or in trochaics or in anapaests, how the sounds repeat themselves in alliterations, assonances or in other rhymes. One perceives much else that lies in the how of the shaping of the prosaic material. That is what must be conveyed in the recitation. If one recites in such a way that one merely brings the prose content, however seemingly profound, out of one's inner being, then one believes one is reciting “artistically”! If you can really hold this peculiar nuance of feeling, which includes the feeling of the poetic, then you come to say to yourself: This actually goes beyond ordinary feeling, because ordinary feeling clings to the things of sensual existence, the poetic does not cling to the things of sensual existence. I expressed it earlier by saying: the poetically shaped then lives more in the atmosphere that surrounds you; or you want to burst out of yourself in order to actually experience the words of the poet correctly outside of yourself.

This comes from the fact that you create something out of yourself that you cannot experience at all between birth and death. One develops something of the soul that one can also leave between birth and death if one only wants to live. One can live and die quite well until death without doing anything other than making the sober prose content the content of life. But why does one feel the need to add rhythm and assonance and alliteration and rhymes to this sober prose content? Well, because one has more in oneself than one needs until death, because one also wants to shape out during this life what one has more in oneself than one needs until death. It is foresight of the life that follows death: because one already carries within oneself what follows after death, therefore one feels impelled not just to speak, but to speak poetically. And just as sculpture and architecture are connected with prenatal life, with the forces within us from prenatal life, so poetry is connected with the life that takes place after death, or rather with the forces within us that are already within us for the life after death. And it is more the ego, as it lives here between birth and death, as it passes through the gate of death and then lives on, that already carries within itself the powers that poetry expresses.

And it is the astral body that already lives here in the world of sound, that forms the world of sound into melody and harmony, which we do not find in the physical world outside, because what we experience after death is already in our astral body. You know, this astral body that we carry within us only lives with us for a while after death, then we also discard it. Nevertheless, this astral body has the actual musical element in it. But it has it in the way it experiences it here between birth and death in its life element, the air. We need the air if we want to have a medium for musical feeling.

When we arrive at the station after death, where we discard our astral body, we also discard everything that reminds us of our musical life on earth. But in this moment in the world, the musical element transforms into the music of the spheres. We become independent of what we experience as musical in the air and live our way up into a musicality that is the music of the spheres. For that which is experienced here as music in the air is, above, the music of the spheres. And now the reflection lives itself into the element of air, becomes denser, becomes that which we experience as earth music, which we imprint on our astral body, which we develop, which we relive as long as we have our astral body. After death we discard our astral body: then — forgive the banal expression — our musicality leaps up into the music of the spheres. Thus we have in music and in poetry a pre-life of that which after death is our world, our existence. We experience the supersensible in two directions. This is how these four arts present themselves to us.

And painting? There is still another spiritual world that lies behind our sensory world. The coarse-materialistic physicist or biologist speaks of atoms and molecules behind the sensory world. They are not molecules and atoms. Behind them are spiritual beings. There is a spiritual world that we live through between falling asleep and waking up. This world, which we bring over from sleep, is what actually inspires us when we paint, so that we bring the spiritual world that surrounds us spatially onto the canvas or onto the wall in general. Therefore, when painting, one must be very careful to paint from the color, not from the line, because the line lies in painting. The line is always something of the memory of prenatal life. If we want to paint in an expanded consciousness that includes the spiritual world, then we must paint what comes out of the color. And we know that color is experienced in the astral world. When we enter the world that we live through between falling asleep and waking up, we experience this color. And however we want to create a harmony of colors, however we want to put the colors on the canvas, it is nothing other than what is pushing us: we push into it, we let flow into our waking body what we have experienced between falling asleep and waking up. That is in there, and that is what the person wants to put on the canvas when painting. In turn, what emerges in painting is the reproduction of a supersensible reality. So that the arts actually point to the supersensible everywhere. For those who can perceive it in the right way, painting becomes a revelation of the spiritual world that surrounds us in space and permeates us from space, in which we find ourselves between falling asleep and waking up. Sculpture and architecture bear witness to the spiritual world that we live through between death and a new birth before conception, before birth; music and poetry bear witness to how we live through life post mortem, after death. In this way, that which is our share in the spiritual world penetrates into our ordinary physical life on earth.

And if we philistinely regard what a person presents as art in life as being only connected with what happens between birth and death, then we actually take away all meaning from artistic creation. For artistic creation is definitely a way of bringing spiritual, supersensible worlds into the physical, sensual world. And it is only because man is pressed by that which he carries within him from prenatal life, because he is pressed in the waking state by that which he carries within him from the supersensible life during sleep, because he is pressed by that which is already within him and which wants to shape him after death, that he places architecture, sculpture, painting, music and poetry in the world of sensory experience. That people do not usually speak of supersensible worlds is merely because they do not understand the sensory world either, especially not even understand what spiritual human culture once knew, but what has been lost and what has become an externalization: art.

If we learn to understand art, it is a true proof of human immortality and of the human being having come into existence. And we need this so that our consciousness expands beyond the horizon that is limited by birth and death, so that we can connect what we have in our physical life on earth to the superphysical life.

If we now create out of a knowledge that, like anthroposophically oriented spiritual science, goes straight for the spiritual world, to include the spiritual world in the imagination, in the thinking, in the feeling, the feeling, the will, then there will be fertile soil for an art that, so to speak, synthetically summarizes the prenatal and the afterlife.

And let us consider eurythmy. We set the human body itself in motion. What do we set in motion? We set the human organism in motion so that its limbs move. The limbs are what primarily lives itself over into the next earthly life, what points to the future, to what happens after death. But how do we shape the movements of the limbs that we produce in eurythmy? We study, in a way that is both sensory and supersensory, how the larynx and all the speech organs have developed out of the head — through the intellectual and sentient faculties of the chest — out of our previous life. We directly connect the prenatal with the afterlife. We take only that part of the human being that is the physical material: the human being himself, who is the tool, the instrument for eurythmy. But we allow what we study inwardly to appear in the human being, what is formed in him from previous lives, and we transfer this to his limbs, that is, to that which is formed in the afterlife. In eurythmy we provide a form of human organism and movement that is direct outward proof of the human being's life in the supersensible world. We connect the human being directly to the supersensible world by letting him or her eurythmize.

Wherever art is created out of a true artistic spirit, art is a testimony to the connection between human beings and the supersensible worlds. And when, in our time, man is called upon to take the gods, as it were, into his own soul forces, so that he does not merely wait in faith for the gods to bring him this or that, but wants to act as if the gods lived in his active will , then humanity will want to experience it, where, so to speak, man must pass from the externally shaped objective arts to an art that will take on completely different dimensions and forms in the future: to an art that directly represents the supersensible. How could it be otherwise? Spiritual science also wants to directly represent the supersensible, so it must, so to speak, also create such an art out of itself.

And the pedagogical-didactic application will gradually educate people who, through education in this direction, will find it natural that they are supersensible beings because they move their hands, arms and legs in such a way that the forces of the supersensible world are active within them. It is indeed the soul of the human being, the supersensible soul, that comes to life in eurythmy. It is the living out of the supersensible that comes to light in the eurythmic movements.

Everything that is brought by spiritual science is truly in harmony inwardly. On the one hand, it is brought so that the life in which we live can be seen more deeply and more intensely, so that we learn to direct our gaze to the living proofs that are there for the unborn and the immortal; and on the other hand, what is supersensible in man is introduced into human will.

This is the inner consistency that underlies spiritual science when it is oriented anthroposophically. As a result, spiritual science will expand human consciousness. Man will no longer be able to walk through the world as he did in the materialistic age, when he only had an overview of what lives between birth and death, and perhaps still had a belief in something else that , which makes him happy, which redeems him, but of which he cannot form a concept, of which he only allows himself to be preached in a sentimental way, of which he actually only has an empty content. Through spiritual science, man is to receive real content from the spiritual worlds again. People are to be released from an abstract life, from a life that only wants to stop at perception, at thinking between birth and death, and that at most still absorbs in words some vague references to a supersensible world. Spiritual science will bring about an awareness in people that broadens their horizons and enables them to perceive the supersensible world when they live and work here in the physical world. We go through the world today, having turned thirty, and know that what we have at thirty has been instilled in us at ten, at fifteen: we remember that. We remember that when we read at thirty, our learning to read twenty-two or twenty-three years ago is linked to the present moment. But we do not consider that at every moment between birth and death, what we have lived through between the last death and this birth vibrates and pulses within us. If we turn our gaze to what has been born out of these forces in architecture and sculpture, and understand it in the right sense, then we will also transfer it to life in the right sense and in turn gain a sense for the superfluous shaping of prose into rhythm and beat and rhyme, into alliteration and assonance in poetry, in the face of philistine, prosaic life. Then we will correctly connect this nuance of feeling with the immortal essence within us, which we carry through death. We will say: No human being could become a poet if it were not for the fact that what actually creates in the poet is in all people: the power that only comes to life externally after death, but that is already in us now.

This is the inclusion of the supersensible in the ordinary consciousness, which must be expanded again if humanity is to avoid sinking further into what it has rushed into by contracting its consciousness so much that it only really lives in what takes place between birth and death, and at most allows itself to be preached to about what exists in the supersensible world.

As you can see, spiritual science is everywhere when we speak of the most important cultural needs of the present.