Mantras of Divine Activity: Overcoming Luciferic Consciousness

GA 266III — 25 March 1913, The Hague

Esoteric Lesson

Last time, we saw what is above and below in our consciousness, how messengers of a bluish-purple color, the Angeloi, rise up from below, while the Archangeloi, bathed in fire, descend from above, and how they unite, as it were, to form a sphere into which human beings can now look.

Today I would like to present another meditation to your soul, one that is so significant that through it alone, spiritually aspiring people have paved their way into the higher worlds. We must be clear that our entire earthly thinking is actually completely wrong. Of the expressions: I am, I think, I feel, I want, only one is actually correct, the statement: I am. All the others are two-thirds or three-quarters wrong.

It has often been pointed out that if we had developed according to the intentions of the good gods, there would be no unconscious sleep. If only good spirits had worked on us, we would have had, during sleep, if not quite the same image consciousness as on the old moon, then at least a lively imagination of the surging activity of the world spirit weaving around us. But now Lucifer has entered into our earthly development. And so that human beings do not bring the terrible realization out of sleep with them: Lucifer thinks in me—good gods have withdrawn their consciousness from them during sleep. And so today's human being says: I think. How wrong this is can be seen by any esotericist who experiences that at the moment when his meditation begins, thoughts [of events] that often lie far back in the past swirl around him from all sides without him being able to resist them. Only later, through long practice, does he succeed in becoming master of his thoughts and at the same time feeling the truth of the mantra: It thinks me. Today's human being, who thinks in a completely materialistic way, is far removed from this. Even in his waking consciousness, he is almost always unintentionally occupied with thoughts and mental images that come from outside and are of a Luciferic nature.

What is materialism, actually? The reasons for materialism are not those given for it, but rather fear, the fear of the emptiness that man finds before he enters the spiritual worlds. This fear slumbers unconsciously in the depths of the soul and drives man to view things only externally, materially. When we immerse ourselves in the great world thought, of which man himself is only a thought, of the so-called reasons that one is, when we feel the spiritual around us with reverential awe, then we will learn to feel more and more the maya of Luciferic thinking, the lie of “I think.” Yes, we will increasingly feel that this “I think” is being absorbed, burned away, as we become better and better at empathizing, at giving ourselves completely to the spiritual-divine: It thinks me. But we should always approach it with a feeling of deepest piety.

Let us take the second word: I feel. If man were conscious during sleep, he would have to say upon awakening: Lucifer-Ahriman feels in me. Just as countless unwanted thoughts swirl around us, so too do feelings arise in us whose origin we do not know. Just think of all the instincts and desires that want to be satisfied. But now the good gods have dimmed human consciousness during sleep, and so we believe we can rightly say: I feel. With a feeling of deepest gratitude to the high beings who shape us, we should devote ourselves to the second mantra: It weaves me.

It is no different with our impulses of will than with our thoughts and feelings. In truth, we should say: it is not I who will, but Ahriman who wills in me. For most of our impulses of will are dominated by Ahriman. — But now the esotericist should place himself in the position of feeling the deepest reverence for the higher beings who are working and laboring within him. This is expressed in the third mantra: It works on me.

These three mantras: It thinks me — It weaves me — It works on me have a high occult value. They can be meditated on individually or in combination. The masters of wisdom and harmony of feelings gave them themselves and also put something very specific into their vocalization.

It thinks me: two (e)s, one (i), (e) is always the sign of holy awe and admiration with which we approach the deity. In contrast, (i) means surrendering oneself, feeling oneself in the deity.

In Es webt mich (It weaves me), we again have two (e) and one (i), i.e. the same combination of vowels; but the (d) - “denkt” (thinks) has become a (w) - “webt” (weaves). We must feel this difference. If the (d) implies standing, placing oneself, then the (w) suggests the undulating, wave-like nature of divine activity, into which we should immerse ourselves completely.

In the third mantra, Es wirkt mich (It works on me), we have one (e) and two (i)s. Again, the (e) signifies pious awe and admiration, while the double (i) signifies intimate understanding, feeling oneself in the deity, being one with it.

But we should never meditate on these three mantras without certain sacred feelings being aroused: “It thinks me” evokes feelings of piety, “It weaves me” evokes feelings of gratitude, and “It works me” evokes feelings of reverence.

Let us now examine our Rosicrucian motto in terms of its vocalization. It too was given in ancient times from the deepest mysteries.

The two rules strictly observed by the Essenes—not to entertain worldly thoughts after sunset and to ask for the sun's appearance before sunrise—are difficult to reconcile with modern scientific thinking. But something else can take their place. Let us think of the first part of our Rosicrucian motto: Ex Deo nascimur. When we awaken, we come from the spiritual worlds to re-enter the temple of the physical body, which good gods have so artfully prepared for us through the Saturn, Sun, and Moon ages. We should feel wonder and admiration, holy awe, expressed by the two (e)'s - Ex Deo. The (o) expresses comprehending. The (a) in nascimur expresses a certain fear, a pulling back, while the (i) again expresses complete devotion and the (u), which is in a sense a repetition of the (o), expresses complete union with the physical body and earthly consciousness.

In the second part of the Rosicrucian motto, whose second word is unpronounceable, we think of the substantial with which we unite after death, post mortem. We die into Christ and thereby attain complete consciousness in the spiritual worlds, the post-mortem consciousness: In Christo morimur. Here we have the threefold (i). This signifies the grasping of our own inner being and our immersion and becoming one with Christ. Then the (o) (u): the complete embracing, the uniting with Christ.

If life in the physical body helps us to attain earthly consciousness, and dying into the substance of Christ helps us to attain post-mortem consciousness, we still lack the knowledge of our self, self-consciousness. The messenger of Christ, the Holy Spirit, must help us to attain this: Per Spiritum Sanctum reviviscimus. Here the consonants predominate. The (p) means to place, to set opposite, the (s) means to emerge from the womb of the gods. When the (s) sound resounded through the universe, the backbone of man was created. The undulating, surging sound of the (s) is also the sign of Lucifer, reflected in its serpentine coils. If we succeed in overcoming him, we gain the spiritual power that gives us true self-awareness: Per Spiritum Sanctum reviviscimus.¹