# So That Man may Become Fully Human

## GA 82 — 7 April 1922, The Hague

### 1. Anthroposophy and Contemporary Intellectual Life

What I have to present this evening will be only a modest introduction to what I will endeavor to discuss here in the next few evenings in individual chapters about Anthroposophy.

Anthroposophy did not come about as a result of asking: What are the needs, what is the quest of our present age, what interests and longings does this present age have with regard to its spiritual life? That would be an abstract question. And just as in ordinary life, as a rule, one does not find what one is looking for without having a proper mental image of it, so one will probably not be able to satisfy the search in the spiritual life of an age if one does not already start from a very definite, concrete mental image of what this age is seeking. But although anthroposophy did not start from these abstract questions, it will be possible to speak afterwards about whether, now that it is here, it can in some sense spiritually satisfy the most important questions and needs of our age.

Anthroposophy actually started out from the needs of science itself, as it has developed in our age, after it has completed its, one may say, great and powerful triumphal march through the last three to four centuries. Anthroposophy has emerged from this scientific endeavor by simultaneously attempting to address the ways in which the Goethean worldview can provide fertile ground for the scientific spirit of the present. So that one can say – allow me this personal remark – when the necessity of an anthroposophical spiritual science became apparent to me, on the one hand it was the opinion that the present scientific spirit in particular must develop to a scientific understanding of the supersensible life, and secondly, what could be gained from a living understanding of Goethe's worldview, which was connected to this scientific endeavor itself. I have been seeking this development for Anthroposophy since the 1880s. When one hears views about anthroposophy today that are more superficial, they often sound as if anthroposophy had emerged from the chaos that has arisen for the spiritual life of the entire civilized world during and after the catastrophe of war, as if it were a dark, mystical force. This is simply not the case. This anthroposophy has been working in earnest for decades, and has emerged from very different conditions.

But as I said, once it is there, we can ask whether it meets a need, a longing in the spiritual life of our time. To answer this question, we must look at the special character, at the deeper peculiarities of the spiritual life of our age. There we shall find, I believe, a trait that is particularly characteristic. Of course, if you say something like that, someone can point out numerous exceptions. They are not to be denied at all. But what I want to characterize is the general trend in the lives of people of this age.

Do we not have to say to ourselves in the present, when we have grown a little older, that we mostly approach today without joy, without enthusiastic devotion to the tasks of life? This seems to be a pessimistic view, but it does not want to be. It simply wants to look with open eyes at what is, after all, a pervasive trait in the lives of contemporary people. We grow up, are educated, and are also brought forward by life. When we then face our own professional tasks, when we face the sufferings and even the joys of life, we do not know how to find our way into the situation of the world with our full humanity today. And from this trend, a most important area of observation will arise for our age in particular, which immediately points characteristically to the deepest peculiarities of our time. When we stand as human beings in later life today, we can no longer look back, in memory of our youth, of our childhood, as once the human being looked back on this youth, on this childhood. Those who have done a certain amount of inner historical research can say this unequivocally. When we look back at our childhood and youth, what rises up from that childhood and youth is not what fills us with joy, enthusiasm, and initiative, what gives us strength from a time that we have lost externally but that could be within us, inspiring us and strengthening us internally. It may be a radical statement, but in a sense it is true: we, as adults of our time, have largely lost our youth, our childhood. And this is particularly evident from the fact that, if we now turn our gaze more to social life, we, as adults, find it so difficult to communicate with young people. It is a general trait of our age, again, that there is a fermenting striving in youth, but that in the wide field this youth comes to the view that age can no longer be what their heart, what their soul longs for. A deep gulf has emerged in our age – some do not admit it, but it is nevertheless the case – between youth and the adult generation. But this very gulf indicates that the human being, who, one might say, brings with him into the world today, out of his full, childlike humanity, that which, whatever his origin, he brings with him through birth into this physical existence - that the human being does not find what he demands of life by virtue of the eternal that is born with him. It is precisely because the young person does not find this in the spiritual life, in life in general, that what our present time so strongly lacks is revealed. The word 'youth movement' has become a familiar one today. And the youth movement is particularly evident among young people who are growing into the spiritual professions; who are growing into a life through which a person is to become a leader in the spiritual, social, moral, artistic and religious needs of their age.

And if we now ask ourselves why so little of the spiritual life that exists satisfies the growing human being, then this question will perhaps be answered, if not fully, then at least illuminated, by looking at the various branches of our spiritual life today: Within the horizon that presents itself to us in the scientific, artistic, moral, social and religious fields, we find that, if I may express it this way, these individual branches of life, which man needs if he is to become a full personality, no longer understand each other, and that they therefore conflict with each other in man, in the human personality.

Anyone who today wants to rebel against what the scientific spirit of the last few centuries, especially since the middle of the 15th century, has brought about in the overall development of humanity, would be a fool. And anthroposophy must not be understood as if it wanted to take up an opposing position to this scientific spirit of our age. This spirit has brought forth in scientific research itself an enormous conscientiousness and exactness of method. I would like to say that the first question for this scientific spirit has become: How can one achieve certainty in the search for truth? — This scientific spirit of the present is striving for certainty in the search for truth. And tremendous achievements have been made, not only in the field of knowledge, but also in practical life, especially in the technical fields of our age. And yet, when we ask ourselves: Does this spirit of science satisfy the pressing sense of youth, does today's youth grow into this spirit of science in such a way that they feel there is something that flows towards them for their full humanity? We cannot answer this question in the affirmative. If we do so, it is because we are indulging in empty illusions or because we want to spread a fog before our spiritual eyes. For this spirit of science is in strange conflict with other areas of life.

First of all, there is the artistic field. Having developed the spirit of science with its exact methods and rigorously trained thinking, artists, those who want to pursue life artistically, who want to enjoy life artistically, feel that they must actually keep the artistic at a distance from this spirit of science. We hear it everywhere today that what art wants to create, what art wants to educate, must come from completely different human sources than what science fathoms in a certain, intellectualistic way of observing. And when someone wants to bring the spirit of today's science into artistic creation, one has the feeling that they are corrupting artistic creation, that the spirit of science has no place in art, that science investigates truth in a way that must not be transferred to the artistic.

Now, the Greeks were familiar with such a strict separation of what man allows to be revealed to him by the world through the artistic sense on the one hand and through the scientific spirit on the other; the Greeks were familiar with such a strict separation within themselves, within which, on the one hand, a brilliant scientific spirit had already emerged and, on the other hand, an ideal art. And even in more recent times, Goethe did not want such a separation, having immersed himself completely in the Greek worldview. Goethe, for example, did not want to speak of a separate idea of truth, of beauty, of religion or piety. Goethe wanted to know the idea as one, and in religion and art and science he wanted to see only different revelations of the one spiritual truth. Goethe spoke of art as a revelation of the secret laws of nature, which would never be revealed without art. For Goethe, science was something that he placed on one side, which has a different language than art; on the other hand, art was something that had yet another language. But only when both work together in man can man, in the Goethean sense, fathom the full truth. Today, we think about how the scientific spirit, which proceeds exactly from conclusion to conclusion, from observation to observation, from experiment to experiment, must undermine the context of artistic imagination; how there is no justification for wanting to fathom anything of the truth of the world through art itself. How, in other words, a strict separation must be made between art and science. Do we not have to say that science, on the one hand, strives for certainty, for a conscientious method, that above all it wants to have certainty, that it wants to present things, if I may put it this way, in such a way that they can be retained and must be recognized by every unbiased human mind? But in striving for this great certainty, one does not have the confidence in what one is fathoming about nature and man through this science that it could somehow have significance for something that also belongs to the satisfaction of the whole human being: for artistic creation or artistic enjoyment. A rigid science is established, but there is no trust that it may have a say where it is concerned with even more human needs, or at least more inward human needs than those of science itself: artistic needs. Of course, a clear distinction can be made between science and art. I can understand anyone who says: Oh, that's just a phrase, a figure of speech, when someone speaks disparagingly of this distinction between science and art. It has to be there, after all. As I said, I can understand it. In the depths of the human soul, there is something that strives for unity, for harmony of the individual soul activities. And while on the one hand logic carries out the separation between science and art, something in us demands balance, the harmonization of scientific truths on the one hand, and artistic truths on the other. Something in us, very deep in our soul, demands that what we extract from nature and man as scientific truth should also have the power to generate artistic initiative in us, without our lapsing into straw allegories or abstract symbolism. There is a definite need in the depths of the soul not to leave the knowledge that science fathoms lifeless, but to enliven it in such a way that something of this scientific knowledge can truly flow over into art, as Goethe was aware of, that for him the ripest fruits of his artistic creativity flowed over from his conception of science.

The great question, not precisely formulated but deeply felt, resounds to us from the longings of our age: the profound question of how we can gain such trust in science, which above all has sought certainty, that we may penetrate through it into the realms of truth that confront us in artistic creation, in artistic formation? And that is one of the most profound questions for present-day humanity.

One could debate and discuss at length the fact that there must be a clear distinction between the logical-observational, scientific method and artistic creation, artistic design. But suppose that in the realm of reality the matter were so that when we come up to man from the realm of the lower nature kingdoms and now wanted to apply the laws of nature to man, as we get to know them in the sense of today's certain science, then we simply could not get to know man. Indeed, it could even be that nature itself creates artistically, that in the various realms of nature there is not only such creation as lies within the meaning of the present natural laws, and that this is particularly not the case in the human realm, but that nature itself, as Goethe assumed, is a great artist, and that we, no matter how critically we approach the subject and say to ourselves, “We must not introduce fantasy into science,” it could be that, by logically setting this before us, we simply limit our knowledge, kill it, because nature is artistic and only yields to artistic observation.

Of course, if one expresses this initially in the hypothetical form in which I am doing so now, it can be contested in many ways. But anyone who is sufficiently of a psychologist to look into the depths of the soul of modern man knows that there is a particular anxiety in the mind today regarding the question: Should we not, if we strive scientifically, have the same in our state of mind as that which forms and shapes artistically? But what if we cannot get into nature any other way? What if nature wants to be grasped artistically? What if human nature in particular wants to be grasped artistically, even in its physical organs? What are we to do then, even if we have a science that is as rigorous as possible and nature, the world, demands of us an artistically shaped knowledge? I know that even present-day scientists consider such a sentence to be an absurdity. But I also know that although it may be considered an absurdity in the consciousness of science, human hearts and human souls today do not consider it an absurdity, but rather they feel its truth dimly and would like to see it in the light.

And it is no different when we move into another area, the area of morality, morals, the area of social work and labor, and the area of religious immersion. Everything that falls within the scope of these three areas has been, so to speak, banned from science for a long time, ever since the scientific spirit has so decisively taken hold of modern humanity. As regards sociology and social work, attempts have been made in recent times, especially in the popular field, to think socially and sociologically from the scientific spirit and to give impulses to social life from this science. The results do not exactly suggest that this is the right approach. For the things that are currently shaking the world in terms of the social question, and that are to be satisfied by all sorts of illusions based on the spirit of science of modern times, are leading to those terrible disharmonies, to those terrible destructive elements that are at work in the social life of humanity today, and which show clearly that a recovery is only possible if a spiritual turnaround can take place in some direction. But after all, social life cannot be guided towards a healthy solution without taking the moral and religious foundations into account. And so, in regard to the social, we must first look at the moral and religious foundations of human life. And here we find it stated quite clearly, even more clearly than in relation to artistic experience, especially in the most recent phenomena, that on the one hand there is science with its strong certainty and conscientiousness, but that, on the other hand, there is an even greater lack of trust in introducing the spirit of this scientific attitude into moral thinking and religious consciousness. And today more than ever, it is emphasized by the seemingly progressive minds that science must remain in its place. But it must be banished from everything that man has to strive for as impulses for his moral action, for his religiosity. That is not where science belongs; that is where faith belongs. Just as there is a strict distinction between science and art, there is also a strict distinction between science and morality, between science and religiosity. One would like to appeal to a special ability, to a special impulsivity of the human soul for this morality, for this religious life. One would like to strictly separate the truth of faith from the scientific truth, just as one would like to strictly separate the artistic truth from it.

Now, this has certainly not prevented the spirit of science from spreading to all circles in the present day, from taking on the most popular form; that today not only the scientists are occupied with this spirit of science, but the whole broad mass of today's civilized humanity. Today, one can be a religious and pious person in the old, traditional sense, but thanks to public literature, from newspapers to books, and through other public life, one still lives entirely in the modern spirit of science. Therefore it could not be avoided that, however strongly the demand arises to separate faith from scientific knowledge, this scientific knowledge appears in all possible fields as a critique of faith, that it is already having and will continue to have a subversive and disintegrating effect on this faith in numerous human minds, unless there is also a complete spiritual reversal in these fields.

Belief and knowledge, which today we want to keep strictly separate, did not originate from different sources. To recognize this, we have to go back further than we do for art, where we only have to go back to the Greeks to see that the Greeks saw artistic truth and scientific truth as one and the same. We must go back to much earlier times in the development of humanity. But there we will find times when religion is simply everything; when man, in a certain way, through the powers of his soul, becomes so absorbed in the depths of the universe that religious life wells up out of this absorption. But as this religious life wells up in him, there stands before his soul that which can make him religiously pious, to which he can sacrifice, that has an effect on him by revealing itself in beauty, and that can therefore be enjoyed artistically, and that, when his thinking and understanding delve into it, meets him as the truth of the world. Science, art and religion, they all arise from one root. But that is not all that comes into consideration. It is true that if we go back to the earliest times of human development, we find that science, art and religion are one, that they emerge from a common source, that later religious life became independent - this was already the case in Greek and Roman times - but that artistic life still remained united with scientific life. And only when we penetrate into the most recent times do we find that these three branches of the revelation of human personality are becoming separate.

Today, these three branches are again striving mightily in the unconscious and subconscious depths of man towards unity, towards harmonization. Why is that? Well, today one can only stand in awe before science, and opposition to that which is truth in science would, as I said, be folly. But science has only been creative in the field of thought and in the field of observation, or regulated observation, of experiment. Science has only been creative with regard to that which can be attained by logical judgment and through observation by the human mind. In these fields, science has achieved great and original things in recent centuries.

If we look at the other fields, the artistic field, the field of moral and religious life, then we have to say to ourselves – and again it is something that not all people say to themselves today, but which basically all civilized humanity feels in the depths of their souls – artistic sense and artistic spirit are not really creative today. We often delude ourselves, of course, when we are recreating, but the present age is not style-generating or motif-generating in the artistic field. Earlier times were style-generating and motif-generating. For example, the Greeks, who gave birth to their buildings from the same womb of the soul from which the poets created their works of art. They gave birth to them from the same womb of the soul that much so that the belief arose that Homer and Hesiod, being artists, had given the Greeks their gods. We live off artistic traditions. We build in the Gothic style, we build in the antique style, we build in the baroque style, and so on, but we do not build in the present. Nor are we able to be fully present in other areas in an artistic sense. One must express these things somewhat radically if one wants to touch what is nevertheless present as reality in the deepest forces of our age.

In the religious and moral sphere, traditions are even older. In the religious and moral sphere, our age is not creative. Hence the conservatism of religions, the urge to preserve the old at all costs. Hence the fear that arises when something new appears in the religious sphere. We have artistic styles from ancient times; we have religious content from even older times. And the young people, as they grow up today, carry a longing for creativity in all areas of life, through something mysterious that I cannot discuss today, through secrets that are born with them. They find this creativity in the scientific field. But that is not enough for her. She longs for something deeply creative in the artistic realm, and she also longs for something deeply creative in the moral-religious realm. That is why today's youth does not understand the older generation, and the older generation does not understand the youth. That is why there is a gulf between the two.

All this basically characterizes our present age, but it does not yet show the deep discord in man himself, which has actually led to all that I have just described. And to find this deep conflict in human nature itself, we must look at the peculiarity of this human nature, as it has developed in the scientific age, that is, since the middle of the 15th century. If we look at today's man without prejudice, we see two opposing poles in his nature. These two poles basically dominate our entire intellectual life. But they do not satisfy our human needs. And these two poles are, on the one hand, the strong, inward, intense self-confidence that modern man has developed over the past centuries, and, on the other hand, the special way in which man has come to understand the world through his modern abilities.

Let us take a closer look at these polar opposites. When I speak of the self-awareness, the sense of self, of modern man, I do not mean only that which arises, so to speak, in the solitude of the philosopher's study. From the self-awareness of man, that is, from the self-comprehension of the idea, of the concept, Hegel developed a worldview in a grandiose way. In Hegelian philosophy, we see only an infinitely ingenious elaboration of what self-consciousness can experience within itself when it becomes fully aware of itself. And on the other hand, we see in the anti-Hegelians, at least when they are philosophers, that they also start from self-consciousness. They despise the Hegelians, and the broad development of the ideal and spiritual that Hegel achieved on the basis of human consciousness. They want to stick to one point, which they keep looking at: their self-consciousness. It does not expand as it does with Hegel, but they also start from self-consciousness. But by characterizing in this way, even if one descends more into the concrete-scientific and philosophical realm, one cannot characterize too much of the nature of the present age from this philosophical grasp of self-consciousness, for the reason that once became particularly clear to me in a conversation with Eduard von Hartmann. We were talking about what can be achieved epistemologically through a critique, an analysis of self-consciousness, and Eduard von Hartmann said: Nowadays, books about such things should not be printed at all, but only hectographed, so that they are only available in a few copies, perhaps sixty copies, because only that many people in Germany, out of sixty million, have an interest in such things. This is also true when it comes to the most intimate philosophical matters. Therefore, you cannot expect me to bother you with how self-awareness is being lived out in the German philosophical consciousness in this day and age. But this self-awareness has been evident since the last century, not only to the inquiring philosopher, but in all human fields, and it is to these that I am referring. The way in which people today think about themselves, how they strongly sense their own being, their I, is certainly not taken into account by external historical research, but the inner historical research knows this. Before the 15th century, people simply did not think about themselves, did not recognize or know anything. There, inwardly, everything was more dull. There one did not say “I” with the same intensity as one can say it in civilized humanity since then.

Thus there has been a general intensification of inner experience. This intensification of inner experience is evident in the field of science in the complete rejection of belief in authority, in the desire to accept only that which can be justified before one's own self-awareness. In the realm of art, it is manifested by the fact that man everywhere seeks to infuse into the work of art, to shape into it, that which he can experience in his deepest self-awareness. In the religious sphere, it is shown by the fact that man can only experience a divine being fully when it sinks into his innermost self, which he experiences strongly, which he wants to experience strongly together with the divine being, if it is to have any validity or significance for him at all. In the moral sphere, man strives - as I already showed in my “Philosophy of Freedom” in the nineties of the last century - for impulses, for ethical motives, for ethical regulation of life, which arise from this root of his strong self-awareness. And in social life we have this peculiar phenomenon today, that social demands are arising everywhere, that people are saying everywhere: we need a social organization of life – but that basically human feeling is very far removed from social feeling, from social empathy. And precisely because we lack social empathy, we demand the social organization of life. We want what we actually lack within ourselves to come from outside. We say, “We must become social beings,” because in modern times, precisely as the spirit of science has grown, we have basically only become strong in our ego, in our antisocial nature, and today we are seeking a balance between this strong ego and social demands.

And so we encounter this self-awareness in all areas of human life. Anyone who studies the social question today from the perspective of the organization of human labor, anyone who has an interest in what has become of the social question under the influence of modern technology, which has removed people from direct contact with their work, which has the indifferent machine - knows how, in this area too, social will cannot emerge from awakened self-awareness, because this awakened self-awareness is confronted with something, with the machine, in the face of which this self-awareness can feel fully satisfied at the very least.

Now, on the one hand, there is the self-confidence of modern man. But how did this self-confidence come about, given that it is a fact of life? How did this modern humanity awaken to this strong self-confidence? Initially, one can only arrive at this self-confidence through a particular development of the life of thought, of the life of ideas. Thought did not play the same role in earlier epochs of humanity as it has in more recent times. But it was precisely by becoming capable of thinking more and more abstractly and abstractly, more and more intellectually and intellectually, that self-awareness became strong. Self-awareness became strong precisely under the power of thought. And so man has come to develop thinking to its highest peak, whereas in the past he lived more in feeling, in beholding, in intuition and imagination and inspiration, even if these were dream-like and unconscious. Man has developed thinking, and with thinking it was possible for him to achieve his strong self-awareness in thought.

But with this, man has arrived at a one-sidedness in our spiritual life. Thought is moving away from reality. Who would not have the feeling that thought can never achieve full-bodied reality, that thought remains only an image of reality! With an image of reality, we have cultivated our strong self-confidence as modern humanity. Therefore, even if people are not yet fully aware of it, even if they cannot yet express it, they feel it, they sense it, and today's youth feel it with particular intensity: that man stands there with thoughts that are alien to reality. He stands, on the one hand, in the face of reality with his self-awareness, the self-awareness that has been grasped through thinking. It cannot approach life, it remains an image. It is powerless in the face of life. We are completely with ourselves in our self-awareness, place ourselves inwardly as strongly as possible on our own, but we are powerless, we do not penetrate with our thoughts into reality. This is the one pole of our modern spiritual life: the powerlessness of self-conscious thinking.

This feeling of the powerlessness of one's own ego permeates modern humanity. This makes modern humanity approach life without joy, without inner devotion, even without understanding, because the strongly developed ego, the strong self-awareness, must always feel powerless even in the face of that life in which one has to work oneself. That is the one pole.

And the other pole, as it presents itself to modern humanity, is that whereas in the past man grasped all kinds of things from the depths of his soul, or, as people like to say today, , modern man only has confidence when he observes the external world in a way that is not mixed with anything from within; when he observes the external world in a so-called objective way, in an experiment. One's own inner being should be completely silent when observing or experimenting. Only the external world should speak. What has been achieved as a result? We have come to investigate this external world in faithful observation and in exact experiment, but we cannot get further with this research than the mechanism. For astronomy, the universe has become a mechanism. For geology, the developing earth has become a mechanism. Even the human organism has become a mechanism, and the modern neo-vitalistic attempts are only attempts with inadequate means to achieve something that cannot be achieved with the scientific method, which is now recognized, and which only leads to understanding the mechanism – to put it radically: the machine – in the experiment, in the observation. By coming to understand the machine, we believe that we can see through what is in front of us, because we do not mix anything into the context of physical and mechanical laws that we form into a fabric in the machine. In a sense, we do see through it, we see through how the individual parts of a mechanism interact and interlock. We initially feel satisfied because we have been educated from the newer school of thought, by understanding the machine, by understanding the universe, the cosmos, as a machine, with interlocking wheels and so on. We believe we are satisfied, but inwardly we are not. Something remains that repels us, precisely in terms of our full humanity, from this understanding of the machine. An understanding of the machine is what has actually contributed to the greatness, to the triumphs of the modern spirit of science. Why? The machine becomes transparent, not to the eye but to the mind, to the intellect. When we look into the organism, things remain dark to such external observation. In the machine, everything is transparent. But we should ask ourselves: do we understand the diamond better because it is transparent? It is simply not true that something becomes more transparent and therefore more comprehensible to us. For what is at work in the machine, we feel in the long run, when we stand face to face with it, more and more as alien to our own nature. And that is the unconscious feeling that asserts itself: there stands the machine, it becomes transparent to the mind, but it has nothing that you can find within yourself, it is completely alien to you. And so we feel cast out of the world that we comprehend, that we comprehend mechanically. We feel repelled by the other pole of our spiritual life. Just as the one pole cannot enter into reality, is powerless in the face of reality, so the reality that we comprehend repels us. This is the profound conflict in the modern human being. He has developed his self-awareness through thinking, but he cannot enter the world with this thinking. He takes the machine from the world; but in comprehending it, it repels him, for it has nothing in common with man. Thinking makes us out of touch with reality; the reality of observation repels us. However one may otherwise describe the dichotomy of modern intellectual life, these are its two roots, these two poles of modern intellectual life: the powerlessness of self-conscious thinking, with its mere pictorial character, which is unable to penetrate into fully fleshed reality, and the mechanistically conceived contents of observation and experiment, which repel one as alien to our own being. It seems as if one is only talking about the field of science when one talks about these things. But what one is discussing in this way permeates our entire modern life.

So, on the one hand, there is this modern intellectual life with the two poles just described. On the other hand, there is anthroposophy. Anthroposophy, which does not attempt to remain at the level of thinking self-awareness, but progresses in inner development through inner soul exercises, which I will have to describe later; which progresses from what we have in a self-evident way in thinking. From this thinking, through exercises, one advances to a descriptive, to a pictorial, to an imaginative thinking; to a thinking that then becomes so strong that it becomes a seeing; that becomes as strong as otherwise only the sense impressions are. Today I can only hint at these things, but in the next few days I will have to describe how one can actually achieve clairvoyant vision of a supersensible world by developing thinking.

But then, when one progresses from the training of thinking to the imagination, then one no longer stands alone with this imagination, which is nothing other than a developed thinking, in the self-awareness that has become alien to reality. Then one stands in a new spiritual reality, in the reality in which one stood before descending from the spiritual-soul world into physical embodiment. For one gets to know one's prenatal life when one really trains in a systematic way that which, in thinking self-awareness, leads to human loneliness in relation to the world. It is thinking that has been developed into imagination that leads to a new reality, to the reality that has taken possession of our own self as our physicality. Our I expands beyond our birth or conception. We enter into a spiritual world.

On the other hand, if we consider observation and experimentation from the perspective of modern science, we become aware of something that many people fail to recognize: that in the experiment itself, thinking is completely silent. Anyone who really follows the experimental process and scientific research in experimentation will find that thinking only notifies, that it actually only perceives the cases statistically and forms laws, but that it does not delve into reality. What connects with reality in the experiment is human will. A deeper psychology will recognize this more and more. Anthroposophy conducts research in such a way that, on the one hand, it develops thinking into imagination, and on the other hand, it develops the will into intuition and inspiration. As I said, I will discuss the details in the next few days. Today I would just like to state the principles.

When the human being comes to exercise this will, which otherwise remains as dark to him as the states of sleep are to his own consciousness, to exercise it in the same way that one exercises thinking for imagination, he comes to make his own organism, his own physicality spiritually and soulfully transparent – not physically, of course. This means that the human being comes to develop for his own being that which he had previously developed for the outside world, for the mechanism, for the machine. But this own being then reveals itself in a completely different way. We are not repelled by it. We grasp what has flowed out of the whole cosmos into our humanity with a transparency that we otherwise only grasp the machine with. But it is we ourselves that we grasp. We are not pushed back. We grasp ourselves in ourselves. And we grasp, initially in our minds, what the moment of death is. We get to know the eternity of the human soul on the other side. We learn through the strengthening of our will how the body becomes transparent, and we learn to understand by looking at how we pass through the gateway of death, how we leave the body to enter a spiritual-soul world.

Through the further development of thinking, we learn to recognize the prenatal. Through culture, through the development of the will, we learn to recognize the afterlife, that which lies beyond our death. We learn to recognize ourselves in a reality, learn to place ourselves in this reality. We do not remain lonely with our self. We learn a thinking, a developed thinking, that penetrates into life, namely into the spiritual life. And we learn to observe something, first in ourselves, then in the world, which does not repel us, but connects with the developed thinking. We bridge the abyss that lies between the two poles, self-conscious thinking and mechanistic observation. We acquire, through anthroposophical research, a thinking that is not powerless in the face of reality, but that submerges into reality; we get to know a reality that reaches up to the inner soul life, to the developed will, which in turn reaches up to thinking. We expand thinking so that it can submerge into reality; we expand the will to such an extent that it can reach up to thinking. Thus, with the spiritual life, we grasp a full reality in which the human being now stands.

This comes about in three stages of knowledge. It comes about in imaginative knowledge, through which thinking is first intensified to the point of pictorialness, inwardly strengthened, where one first sees the supersensible, the spiritual world in images. Then comes inspired knowledge. You can find more about this in my book “How to Know Higher Worlds.” In the next few days I will also have much to characterize. Through inspired knowledge, the spiritual world enters into our soul. Then comes intuitive knowledge, through which we place ourselves in the spiritual essence of the world. But without becoming a spiritual researcher oneself, one can, simply through common sense, grasp that which the spiritual researcher draws from the supersensible world through imagination, inspiration, intuition. If one appropriates these truths, for example the truths that are attained through imaginative knowledge, then one enriches one's inner soul life. How does one enrich one's inner soul life?

Well, with that which is so magnificently described, our scientific life, our scientific spirit, with which we actually live in a state of mind that is only appropriate for us as human beings as an intellectual state of mind when we are fully grown, when we have reached our twenties. If we look only at the human age that immediately precedes it, at the age, say, from the fourteenth to the twentieth, twenty-first year. There we live a life - the one who can really focus on such things, who has a deeper psychology in his soul, he knows it and can explore it - there we live in such a way that intense soul experiences arise from our inner being. These are not abstract thoughts. They are the ideals of youth, full of inner sap, with inner intensity and strength, which one experiences not just as pale, dull thoughts. Man is under the impression of an inner impulsiveness.

What is it that is effective here? Well, what is effective in man actually lives half-dreamily in him. He does not become aware of it at this age. Nor can it be brought to consciousness through ordinary science. Ordinary science will never fathom what goes on in human minds, or what goes on in the human body, say, between the ages of fourteen and twenty-one. Only imaginative knowledge can recognize this. It brings it to consciousness. What works subconsciously in us during our teenage years can only come to consciousness through imaginative knowledge. A young person who has passed the age of fourteen — anyone who is familiar with real pedagogy knows this — longs for knowledge that is imaginative, because only through this can he understand himself. Otherwise he must wait until he is over twenty years old before the intellectual life fully enters him. And then he can only come to the thinking consciousness with which he is alone. He drifts away, if I may express it this way, until this point in human life. He longs for a revelation from the elders, which these elders could only give him – if they are his teachers, his educators, his guides – if they had imaginative insights. Then they would be able to tell him what he is.

And between the change of teeth and sexual maturity, we live an inner life of body, soul and spirit in such a way that what happens unconsciously, what is reality, can only be grasped by inspired knowledge. Not external, intellectual, experimental knowledge can know what is actually working itself out in the human being during the childhood years. Everything wants to form itself now, not according to natural laws, but according to artistic impulses. Inspirations from the universe are at work in us. And the older generation will only be able to tell the children between the ages of seven and fourteen, approximately speaking, what these children long for, what their whole feeling and will is striving for, if they know anything about inspired knowledge. We shall only be able to talk to children in a teaching and educating way when we have some knowledge of inspired world knowledge.

And even with the very youngest children - “Unless you become like little children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven”. There is a deep truth in these words of Christ. At this age of life, during infancy, the age up to the change of teeth, the child lives in such a way that one can only understand the settling of his soul-spiritual into the physical-bodily, this forcing-into, this plastic shaping of the body out of the soul-spiritual, only with intuitive knowledge. Therefore, children will only understand us - feelingly, instinctively - and can be influenced by us in the right way if we can receive religiously shaped truths from an education in intuitive knowledge.

Thus, in our present spiritual age, young people do not understand the old, because as human beings we basically lose our youth. We would only not lose it if what we experience in childhood and adolescence could be remembered by us in later, more mature years through the insights that come from imagination, inspiration and intuition. With these insights we can delve into our childhood and youth. With these insights we can speak as teachers, educators, and leaders of humanity to children and young people in such a way that they understand us instinctively and emotionally, and that young people learn to understand us. The gap between youth and old age can only be bridged in this way. It will not be possible to fill it in any other way. And if the will is not present to bridge or fill the gap in this way, our age will show to an ever greater extent what it is already showing: that youth does not understand age, that age does not understand youth.

And the consequence of this is that people do not understand each other, that a social life becomes more and more impossible. Only by introducing a spiritual-scientific insight into our scientific spirit, by expanding our scientific spirit to include such a spiritual-scientific insight, will man be able to understand himself fully, man will come to the point where he no longer has his self so impotently that it does not reach reality, but is able to observe reality in such a way that it does not strike him back. Only in this way will he be able to bring the two poles, the pole of thought and the pole of reality, which are so alien to each other in modern man, into a living balance.

Thus anthroposophy, even though it did not arise in some abstract way from the observation of the search of the time, from the observation of the longings of our time, anthroposophy, having has arisen out of scientific foundations, it may nevertheless point out how it can achieve, or at least will be able to achieve, in the most important fields of the age, what this age desires in the deepest sense of the word.

I wanted to present this as an introduction, as a preface, so to speak, to the reflections of the next few days, characterizing how this anthroposophy would like to be understood. It would like to be understood not as dead, abstract knowledge, not as knowledge in the form of mere theories, but as knowledge that has been grasped through living in life and is itself living knowledge; as knowledge that flows into the human being not just as thoughts or as the results of observation, but as the life blood of the soul; as knowledge that is present in the human being as life itself.

Anthroposophy would be the height of arrogance if it tried to inspire faith by claiming that so-and-so many of the world's mysteries exist or can be solved. That is not the point. Life is full of riddles, and only as long as there are riddles will there be life. For we must experience the riddles, and it is only by experiencing the riddles that we can continue to live in a truly human way. A world in which there were no questions would be an inanimate world. Anthroposophy does not claim to promise a solution to all the riddles of life. But it seeks to be that which is capable of serving life through its own character, through knowledge and through the power to give the whole human being, the full human being, the artistic, the religious, the moral, the social human being, the real foundation. Anthroposophy seeks to serve life. It would like to serve life by being living knowledge itself, and not just dead knowledge, and by developing its own life force. It would like to serve life, and nothing but life itself can serve life. That is why anthroposophy wants to become life itself in order to serve the life of humanity.