At the Gates of Spiritual Science
GA 95
22 August 1906, Stuttgart
1. The Being of Man
These lectures are intended to give a general survey of the whole field of theosophical thought. Theosophy has not always been taught as it is today, in lectures and books that are accessible to everyone. It used to be taught only in small, intimate groups, and knowledge of it was confined to circles of Initiates, to occult brotherhoods; ordinary people were meant to have only the fruits of this knowledge. Not much was known about the knowledge or the activities of these Initiates, or about the places where they worked. Those whom the world recognises as the great men of history were not really the greatest; the greatest, the Initiates, kept in the background.
In the course of the eighteenth century, on a quite unnoticed occasion, an Initiate made brief acquaintance with a writer, and spoke words to which the writer paid no special attention at the time. But they worked on in him and later gave rise to potent ideas, the fruits of which are in countless hands today. The writer was Jean-Jacques Rousseau.11712–1778, philosopher, critic of society.He was not an Initiate, but his knowledge derived from one.
Here is another example. Jacob Boehme,21575–1624, mystic. a shoemaker's apprentice, was sitting alone one day in the shop, where he was not allowed to sell anything himself. A person came in, made a deep impression upon him, spoke a few words, and went away. Immediately afterwards, Boehme heard his name being called: “Jacob, Jacob, today you are small, but one day you will be great. Take heed of what you have seen today!” A secret attraction remained between Boehme and his visitor, who was a great Initiate, and the source of Boehme's powerful inspirations.
There were still other means by which an Initiate could work in those times. For instance, a man might receive a letter intended to bring about action of some kind. The recipient might perhaps be a Minister, someone who had the power but not the ideas to carry out a particular project. The letter might be about something, perhaps a request, which had nothing to do with its real purpose. But there might have been a certain way of reading the letter. For example, if four words out of five were deleted and the last word left, these fifth words would make a new sequence conveying what was to be done, although the recipient, of course, was not aware of it. If the words were the right ones, they achieved their object, even though the reader had not consciously taken in their meaning. Trithemius of Sponheim,3Abbot of Sponheim, near Kreuznach, 1462–1516.a German scholar who was also an Initiate and the teacher of Agrippa von Nettesheim, used this method. Given the right key, you will find in his works much that is taught today in Theosophy.
In earlier times, only a few who had undergone adequate preparation could be initiated. Why was this secrecy necessary? In order to ensure the right attitude towards knowledge, it had to be restricted to those who were adequately prepared; the others received its blessings only. This knowledge was not intended to satisfy idle curiosity or inquisitiveness; it was meant to be put to work, to have a practical influence on political and social institutions in the world. In this way all the great advances in the development of humanity owe their origin to impulses issuing from occultism. For this reason, too, all those who were to be instructed in theosophical teachings were obliged to undergo severe tests and trials to prove their worthiness; and then they were initiated step by step, and led upwards quite slowly.
This method has been abandoned in modern times; the more elementary teachings are now given out publicly. This is necessary because the earlier methods, whereby only the fruits of the teaching were allowed to reach humanity, would fail. Among these earlier methods we must include religions, and this wisdom was a constituent part of all of them. Nowadays, however, we hear of a conflict between knowledge and faith. What is necessary today is to attain to higher knowledge by the paths of learning.
The decisive event which led to the making public of this knowledge, however, was the invention of printing. Previously, theosophical teaching had been passed on orally from one person to another, and nobody who was unripe or unworthy would hear of it. But knowledge of the material world was spread abroad and made popular through books; hence arose the conflict between knowledge and faith. Issues such as this have made it necessary for much of the great treasure of occult knowledge of all ages to be made accessible to the public. Whence does man originate? What is his goal? What lies hidden behind his visible form? What happens after death?—all these questions have to be answered, and answered not by theories and hypotheses and surmises, but by the relevant facts.
The purpose of occult science has always been to unravel the riddle of man. Everything said in these lectures will be from the standpoint of practical occultism; they will contain nothing that is mere theory and cannot be put into practice. Such theories have found their way into theosophical literature because in the beginning the people who wrote the books did not understand clearly what they were writing about. This kind of writing may indeed be very useful for curiosity-addicts; but Theosophy must be carried into real life.
Let us first consider the nature and being of man. When someone comes into our presence, we first of all see through our sense-organs what Theosophy calls the physical body. Man has this body in common with the whole world around him; and although the physical body is only a small part of what man really is, it is the only part of which ordinary science takes account. But we must go deeper. Even superficial observation will make it clear that this physical body has very special qualities. There are plenty of other things which you can see and touch; every stone is after all a physical body. But man can move, feel and think; he grows, takes nourishment, propagates his kind. None of this is true of a stone, but some of it is certainly true of plants and animals. Man has in common with the plants his capacity to nourish himself, to grow and propagate; if he were like a stone, with only a physical body, none of this would be possible. He must therefore possess something which enables him to use substances and their forces in such a way that they become for him the means of growth and so forth. This is the etheric body.
Man has a physical body in common with the mineral kingdom, and an etheric body in common with the plant and animal kingdoms. Ordinary observation can confirm that. But there is another way whereby we can convince ourselves of the existence of an etheric body, although only those who have developed their higher senses have this faculty. These higher senses are no more than a higher development of what is dormant in every human being. It is rather like a man born blind being operated on so that he can see. The difference is that not everyone born blind can be successfully operated on, whereas everyone can develop the spiritual senses if he has the necessary patience and goes through the proper preliminary training. A very definite form of higher perception is needed to understand this principle of life, growth, nutrition and propagation. The example of hypnotism can help us to show what this means.
Hypnotism, which has always been known to the Initiates, implies a condition of consciousness different from that of ordinary sleep. There must be a close rapport between the hypnotiser and his subject. Two types of suggestion are involved—positive and negative. The first makes a person see what is not there, while the second diverts his attention from something that is present and is thus only an intensification of a condition familiar enough in everyday life when our attention is diverted from an object so that we do not see it, although our eyes are open. This happens to us involuntarily every day when we are wholly absorbed in something. Theosophy will have nothing to do with conditions where consciousness is dimmed and dulled. To grasp theosophical truths a man must be quite as much in control of his senses when investigating higher worlds as he is when investigating ordinary matters. The serious dangers inherent in Initiation can affect him only if his consciousness is dimmed.
Anyone who wants to know the nature of the etheric body by direct vision must be able to maintain his ordinary consciousness intact and “suggest away” the physical body by the strength of his own will. The gap left will, however, not be empty; he will see before him the etheric body glowing with a reddish-blue light like a phantom, but with radiance a little darker than young peach blossom. We never see an etheric body if we “suggest away” a crystal; but in the case of a plant or animal we do, for it is the etheric body that is responsible for nutrition, growth and reproduction.
Man, of course, has other faculties as well. He can feel pleasure and pain, which the plant cannot do. The Initiate can discover this by his own experience, for he can identify himself with the plant. Animals can feel pleasure and pain, and thus have a further principle in common with man: the astral body. The astral body is the seat of everything we know as desire, passion, and so forth. This is clear to straightforward observation as an inner experience, but for the Initiate the astral body can become an outer reality. The Initiate sees this third member of man as an egg-shaped cloud which not only surrounds the body, but permeates it. If we “suggest away” the physical body and also the etheric body, what we shall see will be a delicate cloud of light, inwardly full of movement. Within this cloud or aura the Initiate sees every desire, every impulse, as colour and form in the astral body. For example, he sees intense passion flashing like rays of lightning out of the astral body.
In animals the basic colour of the astral body varies with the species: a lion's astral body has a different basic colour from that of a lamb. Even in human beings the colour is not always the same, and if you train yourself to be sensitive to delicate nuances, you will be able to recognise a man's temperament and general disposition by his aura. Nervous people have a dappled aura; the spots are not static but keep on lighting up and fading away. This is always so, and is why the aura cannot be painted.
But man is distinguished from the animal in still another way. This brings us to the fourth member of man's being, which comes to expression in a name different from all other names. I can say “I” only of myself. In the whole of language there is no other name which cannot be applied by all and sundry to the same object. It is not so with “I”; a man can say it only of himself. Initiates have always been aware of this. Hebrew Initiates spoke of the “inexpressible name of God”, of the God who dwells in man, for the name can be uttered only by the soul for this same soul. It must sound forth from the soul and the soul must give itself its own name; no other soul can utter it. Hence the emotion of wonder which thrilled through the listeners when the name “Jahve” was uttered, for Jahve or Jehovah signifies “I” or “I AM”. In the name which the soul uses of itself, the God begins to speak within that individual soul.
This attribute makes man superior to the animals. We must realise the tremendous significance of this word. When Jean Paul4Jean Paul Friedrich Richter, 1763–1825, poet. had discovered the “I” within himself, he knew that he had experienced his immortal being.
This again presents itself to the seer in a peculiar form. When he studies the astral body, everything appears in perpetual movement except for one small space, shaped like a somewhat elongated blue oval, situated at the base of the nose, behind the brow. This is to be seen in human beings only—more clearly in the less civilised peoples, most clearly of all in savages at the lowest level of culture. Actually there is nothing there but an empty space. Just as the empty centre of a flame appears blue when seen through the light around it, so this empty space appears blue because of the auric light streaming around it. This is the outer form of expression of the “I”.
Every human being has these four members; but there is a difference between a primitive savage and a civilised European, and also between the latter and a Francis of Assisi, or a Schiller. A refinement of the moral nature produces finer colours in the aura; an increase in the power of discrimination between good and evil also shows itself in a refinement of the aura. In the process of becoming civilised the “I” has worked upon the astral body and ennobled the desires. The higher the moral and intellectual development of a man, the more will his “I” have worked upon the astral body. The seer can distinguish between a developed and an undeveloped human being
Whatever part of the astral body has been thus transformed by the “I” is called Manas. Manas is the fifth member of man's nature. A man has just so much of Manas as he has created by his own efforts; part of his astral body is therefore always Manas. But a man is not able to exercise an immediate influence upon the etheric body, although in the same way that he can raise himself to a higher moral level he can also learn to work upon the etheric body. Then he will be called a Chela,5(Tschela) Sanskrit. The pupil of a teacher of occult knowledge. a pupil. He can thus attain mastery over the etheric body, and what he has transformed in this body by his own efforts is called Buddhi. This is the sixth member of man's nature, the transformed etheric body.
Such a Chela can be recognised by a certain sign. An ordinary man shows no resemblance either in temperament or form to his previous incarnation. The Chela has the same habits, the same temperament as in the previous incarnation. This similarity remains because he has worked consciously on the etheric body, the bearer of the forces of growth and reproduction.
The highest achievement open to man on this Earth is to work right down into his physical body. That is the most difficult task of all. In order to have an effect upon the physical body itself, a man must learn to control the breath and the circulation, to follow consciously the activity of the nerves, and to regulate the processes of thought. In theosophical language, a man who has reached this stage is called an Adept; he will then have developed in himself what we call Atma. Atma is the seventh member of man's being.
In every human being four members are fully formed, the fifth only partly, the sixth and seventh in rudiment only. Physical body, etheric body, astral body, “I” or Ego, Manas, Buddhi, Atma—these are the seven members of man's nature; through them he can participate in three worlds.
Erster Vortrag
Es soll in diesen Vorträgen ein allgemeiner Überblick über das Gesamtgebiet der theosophischen Weltanschauung gegeben werden. Nicht immer ist Theosophie so wie heute gelehrt worden in Vorträgen und Büchern, die jedem zugänglich sind. Früher wurde Theosophie als etwas angesehen, das nur in kleinen intimen Zirkeln gelehrt werden konnte. Das Wissen beschränkte sich auf die Kreise von Eingeweihten, auf okkulte Brüderschaften; die Allgemeinheit sollte nur die Früchte dieses Wissens haben. Weder von ihrem Wissen und von ihren Taten noch von dem Ort ihres Wirkens war viel bekannt. Was die Welt an großen geschichtlichen Menschen kennt, das waren eigentlich nicht die größten. Die Größten, die Eingeweihten, hielten sich zurück.
So trat im 18. Jahrhundert ein solcher Eingeweihter einmal in einem Augenblick, der gar nicht beachtet wurde, vor einen Schriftsteller hin, wurde mit ihm flüchtig bekannt und sprach Worte, die der andere gar nicht besonders beachtete, die aber dennoch in ihm nachwirkten und gewaltige Gedankenbilder erzeugten, deren schriftstellerische Früchte heute in unzähligen Händen sind. Dieser andere war Jean-Jacques Rosseau. Er war kein Eingeweihter, aber die Quelle seines Wissens ging auf einen solchen zurück.
Ein anderes Beispiel: Jakob Böhme war als Schusterlehrling allein im Laden, in welchem er noch nichts verkaufen durfte. Da kam eine Persönlichkeit zu ihm, die einen tiefen Eindruck auf ihn machte; sie sagte einige Worte und entfernte sich dann wieder. Gleich darauf hörte er seinen Namen rufen: Jakob, Jakob, du bist jetzt noch klein, du wirst aber groß werden. Merke dir, was du heute gesehen hast. — Es blieb eine geheime Anziehung zwischen ihm und jener Persönlichkeit, die ein großer Eingeweihter war. Von ihm stammten die mächtigen Inspirationen Böhmes.
Es gab auch noch andere Mittel, durch die früher ein Eingeweihter gewirkt hat. Jemand hat zum Beispiel einen Brief bekommen, der dazu bestimmt war, irgendeine Tat zu veranlassen. Er war vielleicht Minister und hatte die äußere Macht, irgend etwas auszuführen, aber nicht den Gedanken dazu. In dem Briefe stand etwas, was gar nichts zu tun hatte mit dem, was übermittelt werden sollte, vielleicht ein Bittgesuch. Man hätte aber den Brief noch auf eine andere Art lesen können: Man brauchte nur immer vier Worte auszustreichen und das fünfte stehen zu lassen, dann gab der Rest einen neuen Zusammenhang, den natürlich der Empfänger gar nicht bemerkte, der aber zum Inhalt hatte, was geschehen sollte. Waren nun die Worte die richtigen, so wirkten sie, auch ohne daß der Leser den Sinn im Tagesbewußtsein aufgenommen hatte. In ähnlicher Weise schrieb ein deutscher Gelehrter, der zugleich ein Eingeweihter war, der Lehrer von Agrippa von Nettesheim, Trithem von Sponheim. In seinen Werken, mit dem richtigen Schlüssel gelesen, steht vieles, was heute in der Theosophie gelehrt wird.
Es war damals notwendig, daß nur einige wenige, die genügend vorbereitet waren, in diese Dinge eingeweiht wurden. Wozu war dieses Geheimhalten notwendig? Gerade um dem Wissen die richtige Stellung zu verschaffen, konnte man es nur den genügend Vorbereiteten geben; die anderen empfanden nur die Segnungen. Es war ja kein Wissen für die Befriedigung der Neugierde oder der bloßen Wißbegierde. Dieses Wissen sollte in die Tat umgesetzt werden, es sollte arbeiten an den staatlichen und gesellschaftlichen Einrichtungen, es sollte die Welt praktisch gestalten. Und so gehen alle großen Fortschritte in der Menschheitsentwickelung zurück auf die Impulse von Okkultem. Deshalb wurden auch alle, die der theosophischen Lehren teilhaftig werden sollten, schweren Proben und Prüfungen unterworfen, ob sie auch würdig dafür seien, und dann wurden sie stufenweise eingeweiht, ganz langsam von unten nach oben geführt.
Von dieser Methode ist in letzter Zeit abgegangen worden; man lehrt jetzt die elementaren Lehren öffentlich. Die Veröffentlichung war notwendig, weil die früheren Mittel, die Früchte einfließen zu lassen in die Menschheit, versagen würden. Zu diesen Mitteln gehörten auch die Religionen, und in allen Religionen ist diese Weisheit enthalten; heute aber spricht man von einem Gegensatz zwischen Wissen und Glauben. Wir haben heute nötig, auf den Wegen des Wissens zu der höheren Erkenntnis zu kommen.
Die eigentlichste Ursache aber für die Veröffentlichung ist die Erfindung der Buchdruckerkunst. Vorher wurden die theosophischen Lehren mündlich, von Person zu Person erteilt; kein Unreifer oder Unwürdiger hörte davon. Aber durch die Bücher hat das Wissen von den sinnlichen Dingen Verbreitung gefunden, und durch sie ist es populär geworden. Daher entstand auch der Zwiespalt zwischen Wissen und Glauben.
Solche Ursachen aber machen es notwendig, daß aus dem großen Schatze des Geheimwissens aller Zeiten jetzt vieles veröffentlicht werden muß. Fragen wie: Woher kommt der Mensch? Was ist sein Ziel? Was verbirgt die sichtbare Gestalt? Was geschieht nach dem Tode? — mußten beantwortet werden, und zwar nicht durch Hypothesen und Theorien und Mutmaßungen, sondern durch die Tatsachen.
Das eigentliche Rätsel des Menschen zu enthüllen, das war es, um was es sich bei aller Geheimwissenschaft handelte. Alles, was hierüber gesagt werden soll, wird gegeben von dem eigentlichen Standpunkt des praktischen Okkultismus aus; nicht irgendeine Theorie soll es sein, die man im Praktischen nicht brauchen kann. Solche Theorien sind dadurch entstanden und in die theosophische Literatur eingedrungen, daß im Anfang die Leute, welche die Bücher schrieben, selbst nicht genau verstanden, was sie schrieben. Solches mag ja für die Wißbegier recht nützlich sein. Die Theosophie aber soll Leben werden.
Wir wenden uns zuerst dem Wesen des Menschen zu. Wenn uns ein Mensch entgegentritt, so sehen wir zunächst mit unseren äußeren Sinnesorganen das, was wir in der theosophischen Sprache den physischen Leib nennen. Dieser physische Leib ist etwas, was der Mensch mit der gesamten Umwelt gemeinsam hat. Das ist das einzige, was die äußere Wissenschaft gelten läßt, und doch ist es nur ein kleiner Teil des Menschen. Wir müssen tiefer eindringen in das Wesen des Menschen, denn schon eine bloße Überlegung lehrt, daß es mit diesem physischen Menschen eine ganz besondere Bewandtnis haben muß. Es gibt eben noch andere Dinge, die man sehen, betasten kann und so weiter; jeder Stein ist schon ein physischer Körper. Aber der Mensch kann sich bewegen, er kann fühlen, denken, er wächst, er ernährt sich, pflanzt sich fort. Das alles ist beim Stein nicht der Fall, wohl aber entsprechend bei der Pflanze und dem Tier. Mit allen Pflanzen hat der Mensch die Ernährung, das Wachstum, die Fortpflanzung gemeinsam. Hätte er nur einen physischen Körper wie der Stein, so könnte er nicht wachsen, sich ernähren, sich fortpflanzen. Er muß also etwas haben, was ihn fähig macht, die physischen Kräfte und Stoffe so zu verwerten, daß sie ihm Mittel werden, zu wachsen und so weiter. Das ist der Ätherleib.
So hat der Mensch seinen physischen Leib mit allem Mineralischen gemeinsam, den Ätherleib nur mit den Pflanzen und Tieren. Das ist zunächst durch eine bloße Überlegung festgestellt. Nun ist aber noch eine andere Möglichkeit vorhanden, sich davon zu überzeugen, daß es einen Ätherleib gibt. Diese Fähigkeit hat nur der, der seine höheren Sinne ausgebildet hat. Solche höheren Sinne sind nicht anders aufzufassen, als eine höhere Ausbildung dessen, was in jedem Menschen schlummert.
Es ist wie beim Blindgeborenen, der operiert wird; nur daß nicht jeder Blindgeborene operiert werden kann, daß die geistigen Sinne aber bei jedem Menschen entwickelt werden können, wenn er die nötige Geduld hat und die entsprechende Vorbereitung durchmacht. Schon um dieses Prinzip des Lebens, von Wachstum, Fortpflanzung und Ernährung wahrzunehmen, gehört eine ganz bestimmte höhere Wahrnehmung. An dem Beispiel des Hypnotisierens können wir uns klarmachen, was gemeint ist.
Der Hypnotismus, der den Eingeweihten immer bekannt war, bedeutet einen anderen Bewußtseinszustand als der gewöhnliche Schlaf. Ein Hypnotisierter ist im Rapport mit dem Hypnotiseur. Man kann nun unterscheiden zwischen positiver und negativer Suggestion, die beim Hypnotisierten auftreten. Die erstere läßt etwas wahrnehmen, was nicht vorhanden ist. Die negative Suggestion besteht darin, daß die Aufmerksamkeit abgelenkt wird von dem, was vorhanden ist. Es ist das nur eine Steigerung eines anderen Zustandes: Im gewöhnlichen Leben können wir auch unsere Aufmerksamkeit von einem Dinge abwenden, so daß wir es nicht sehen, trotzdem unsere Augen geöffnet sind. Das passiert uns ja unwillkürlich täglich, wenn wir vertieft in etwas sind. Die Theosophie will nichts zu tun haben mit solchen Zuständen, bei denen der Bewußtseinszustand des Menschen abgestumpft ist und er sich in einem Dämmerzustand befindet. Der Mensch, der zu theosophischen Wahrheiten kommen will, muß beim Untersuchen der höheren Welten seiner Sinne ebenso mächtig sein wie beim Untersuchen der alltäglichen Dinge. Die großen Gefahren der Einweihung können nur dann über den Menschen kommen, wenn sein Bewußtsein herabgedämpft wird.
Wer den Ätherleib aus eigener Anschauung kennenlernen will, der muß imstande sein, bei voller Aufrechterhaltung des gewöhnliichen Bewußtseins sich selbst durch eigene Willensstärke den physischen Leib abzusuggerieren. Dann aber ist der Raum für ihn trotzdem nicht leer; vor sich hat er dann den Ätherleib, der in einer rötlich-bläulichen Lichtform, wie ein Schemen, aber glänzend, leuchtend, etwas dunkler als junge Pfirsichblüten, erscheint. Diesen Ätherleib können wir niemals sehen, wenn wir einen Kristall betrachten, wohl aber bei der Pflanze und beim Tier, denn dieser Teil ist es ja, der die Ernährung, das Wachstum und die Fortpflanzung bewirkt.
Der Mensch aber hat nicht nur diese Fähigkeiten, er hat auch die Fähigkeit der Empfindung von Lust und Schmerz. Die hat die Pflanze nicht. Der Eingeweihte kann das durch eigene Erfahrung untersuchen, weil er sich mit der Pflanze identifizieren kann. Das Tier jedoch hat diese Fähigkeit, denn es hat ein weiteres Glied mit dem Menschen gemeinsam: das ist der Astralleib. Er umfaßt alles, was wir als Begierde, Leidenschaft und so weiter kennen. Das ist nun wieder durch eine Überlegung klar, durch ein inneres Erlebnis. Für den Eingeweihten aber kann es ein äußeres Erlebnis werden. Dieses dritte Glied des Menschen schaut der Eingeweihte als eiförmige Wolke, die sich in einer fortwährenden inneren Bewegung befindet; es ist das eine Wolke, die den Körper umgibt, in der der physische Körper und der Ätherleib darinstecken. Es ist so, daß, wenn man physischen Leib und Ätherleib absuggeriert, alles ausgefüllt ist von einer feinen Lichtwolke mit innerer Beweglichkeit. In dieser Wolke, in dieser Aura sieht der Eingeweihte jede Begierde, jeden Trieb und so weiter als Farbe und Gestalt des Astralleibes; so sieht er zum Beispiel heftige Leidenschaft als blitzartige Strahlen aus dem Astralleib hervorschießen.
Die Tiere haben einen Astralleib, der je nach der Gattung verschiedene Grundfarben hat; der Astralleib des Löwen hat eine andere Grundfarbe als derjenige des Lammes. Und auch beim Menschen ist die Grundfarbe nicht stets die gleiche, und wenn man für feinere Unterschiede einen Sinn hat, kann man beim Menschen das Temperament, die Grundstimmungen in seiner Aura erkennen. Nervöse Menschen haben eine getigerte, von Punkten durchsetzte Aura. Diese Punkte sind nicht ruhig, sondern leuchten immer auf und verschwinden wieder. So ist es immer, und deshalb kann man auch die Aura nicht malen.
Aber der Mensch unterscheidet sich auch noch vom Tiere. Da kommen wir zu dem vierten Gliede der menschlichen Wesenheit. Dieses vierte Glied liegt ausgesprochen in einem Namen, der sich von allen übrigen Namen unterscheidet: «Ich» kann ich nur zu mir selbst sagen. Es gibt in der ganzen Sprache keinen Namen, den nicht jeder andere auch zu dem gleichen Gegenstand sagen könnte. Nicht so das Ich; das kann der Mensch nur zu sich selber sagen. Das haben diejenigen, die eingeweiht waren, von jeher empfunden. Der hebräische Eingeweihte nannte so den «unaussprechlichen Namen Gottes», des Gottes, der im Menschen wohnt, denn er ist nur in dieser Seele für diese Seele auszusprechen. Er muß aus der Seele hervortönen, sie muß sich einen eigenen Namen geben; kein anderer kann ihr einen Namen geben. Daher die wunderbare Stimmung, die durch die Zuhörer ging, wenn der Name «Jahve» ausgesprochen wurde; denn Jahve oder Jehova bedeutet «Ich» oder «Ich bin». In dem Namen, den sich die Seele gibt, beginnt der Gott in der eigenen Seele zu sprechen.
Diese Eigenschaft hat der Mensch vor dem Tiere voraus. Das Tier besitzt nicht die Fähigkeit, zu sich «Ich» zu sagen. Die Fähigkeit, sich selbst einen Namen zu geben, hat der Mensch allein. Man muß sich einmal die ungeheure Bedeutung dieses Wortes vor die Seele rücken. Jean Paul erinnert sich in seiner Selbstbiographie, wie er als ganz kleiner Junge vor einer Scheune stand und ihm bewußt wurde, daß er ein Ich sei. Er wußte, daß er das Unsterbliche in sich erfahren hatte.
Wiederum drückt sich dies für den Seher in einer eigentümlichen Weise aus. Wenn er den Astralleib untersucht, ist alles in fortwährender Bewegung bis auf einen einzigen kleinen Raum; der bleibt, wie eine etwas in die Länge gezogene eiförmige bläuliche Kugel, etwas hinter der Stirne, bei der Nasenwurzel. Sie findet sich nur beim Menschen. Bei dem Gebildeten ist sie nicht mehr so wahrnehmbar wie bei dem Ungebildeten; am deutlichsten ist sie bei den in der Kultur tiefstehenden Wilden. An dieser Stelle ist in Wahrheit nichts, ein leerer Raum. Wie die Mitte der Flamme, die leer ist, durch den Lichtkranz blau erscheint, so erscheint auch diese dunkle leere Stelle blau, weil das aurische Licht ringsherum strahlt. Das ist der äußere Ausdruck für das Ich.
Diese vier Teile hat jeder Mensch. Aber es ist ein Unterschied zwischen einem Wilden und einem europäischen Kulturmenschen, zwischen diesem und einem Franz von Assisi oder einem Schiller. Die Veredelung der Sitten bildet auch edlere Farben in der Aura. Das Wachstum in der Unterscheidung von Gut und Böse zeigt sich auch in der verfeinerten Aura. Um kultiviert zu werden, hat das Ich gearbeitet am Astralleib und die Begierden veredelt. Je höher ein Mensch in moralischer und intellektueller Kultur steht, desto mehr hat das Ich hineingearbeitet in den Astralleib. Der Seher kann sagen: Dies ist ein Entwickelter, dies ist ein Unentwickelter.
Was der Mensch selbst in den Astralleib hineingearbeitet hat, das nennt man Manas; das ist der fünfte Grundteil. So viel also der Mensch selbst in sich hineingearbeitet hat, so viel ist in ihm Manas; daher ist immer ein Teil seines Astralleibes Manas. Aber es ist dem Menschen nicht unmittelbar gegeben, auch auf seinen Ätherleib einen Einfluß auszuüben. So wie man lernt, auf eine höhere moralische Stufe zu kommen, so kann man auch lernen, in seinen Ätherleib hineinzuarbeiten. Wer dies lernt, ist ein Schüler, ein Chela. Dadurch wird der Mensch Herr über seinen Ätherleib, und so viel er in diesen hineingearbeitet hat, so viel ist in ihm vorhanden von Budhi. Das ist der sechste Grundteil, der umgewandelte Ätherleib.
Einen solchen Chela können wir an etwas erkennen. Der gewöhnliche Mensch ist nicht ähnlich seiner früheren Verkörperung, weder in Gestalt noch Temperament; der Chela aber hat dieselben Gewohnheiten, dasselbe Temperament wie in der früheren Verkörperung. Er bleibt sich ähnlich. Er hat bewußt hineingearbeiter in den Leib, der Fortpflanzung und Wachstum trägt.
Die höchste Gabe, die der Mensch auf dieser Erde erreichen kann, ist, daß er in seinen physischen Leib hinunterarbeitet. Das ist das Allerschwerste. Auf den physischen Leib arbeiten heißt, seinen Atem beherrschen lernen, seinen Blutumlauf bearbeiten, die Nervenarbeit verfolgen, auch den Denkprozeß regeln. Derjenige, der auf dieser Stufe steht, heißt in theosophischer Sprache ein Adept, und dieser hat dann das, was man Atma nennt, an sich ausgebildet. Das ist der siebente Grundteil.
Jeder Mensch hat vier Teile ausgebildet, den fünften teilweise, die anderen in der Anlage. Physischer Leib, Ätherleib, Astralleib, Ich, Manas, Budhi, Atma, das sind die sieben Glieder der menschlichen Wesenheit. Durch sie hat der Mensch Anteil an den drei Welten: der physischen Welt, der astralischen Welt und der Devachan- oder Geisteswelt.
First Lecture
These lectures are intended to provide a general overview of the entire field of theosophical worldview. Theosophy has not always been taught as it is today in lectures and books that are accessible to everyone. In the past, theosophy was regarded as something that could only be taught in small, intimate circles. Knowledge was restricted to circles of initiates, to occult brotherhoods; the general public was only supposed to reap the fruits of this knowledge. Not much was known about their knowledge and their deeds, nor about the place where they worked. The great historical figures known to the world were not actually the greatest. The greatest, the initiates, kept themselves in the background.
Thus, in the 18th century, one such initiate once appeared before a writer in a moment that went completely unnoticed, made brief acquaintance with him, and spoke words that the other did not pay much attention to, but which nevertheless had a lasting effect on him and produced powerful images of thought, the literary fruits of which are now in countless hands. That other person was Jean-Jacques Rousseau. He was not an initiate, but the source of his knowledge went back to one.
Another example: Jakob Böhme was alone in the shop as a cobbler's apprentice, where he was not yet allowed to sell anything. Then a personage came to him who made a deep impression on him; she said a few words and then left again. Immediately afterwards, he heard his name being called: Jakob, Jakob, you are still small, but you will grow up. Remember what you have seen today. — A secret attraction remained between him and that personality, who was a great initiate. It was from him that Böhme's powerful inspirations originated.
There were also other means by which an initiate used to work. For example, someone received a letter that was intended to prompt some kind of action. He may have been a minister and had the external power to carry out something, but not the idea to do so. The letter contained something that had nothing to do with what was supposed to be communicated, perhaps a petition. However, the letter could have been read in another way: one only had to cross out every fourth word and leave the fifth one standing, then the rest gave a new context, which of course the recipient did not notice at all, but which contained what was to happen. If the words were the right ones, they had an effect even without the reader having taken in the meaning in their everyday consciousness. In a similar way, a German scholar who was also an initiate, the teacher of Agrippa von Nettesheim, Trithem von Sponheim, wrote. In his works, read with the right key, there is much that is taught today in theosophy.
At that time, it was necessary that only a few who were sufficiently prepared were initiated into these things. Why was this secrecy necessary? Precisely in order to give the knowledge its proper place, it could only be given to those who were sufficiently prepared; the others only felt the blessings. After all, it was not knowledge for the satisfaction of curiosity or mere thirst for knowledge. This knowledge was to be put into practice, it was to work on state and social institutions, it was to shape the world in a practical way. And so all great advances in human development can be traced back to impulses from the occult. That is why all those who were to share in the theosophical teachings were subjected to severe trials and tests to see whether they were worthy of it, and then they were gradually initiated, very slowly guided from the bottom to the top.
This method has been abandoned in recent times; the elementary teachings are now taught publicly. Publication was necessary because the earlier means of bringing the fruits to humanity would fail. These means also included religions, and this wisdom is contained in all religions; but today there is talk of a contradiction between knowledge and faith. Today we need to arrive at higher knowledge through the paths of knowledge.
The real reason for the publication, however, is the invention of printing. Previously, theosophical teachings were imparted orally, from person to person; no one who was immature or unworthy heard of them. But through books, knowledge of sensory things has spread and become popular. This has also given rise to the conflict between knowledge and faith.
Such causes, however, make it necessary that much of the great treasure of secret knowledge of all ages must now be published. Questions such as: Where does man come from? What is his goal? What does the visible form conceal? What happens after death? — had to be answered, not by hypotheses and theories and conjectures, but by facts.
To reveal the true mystery of man was the purpose of all secret science. Everything that is to be said about this is given from the actual standpoint of practical occultism; it is not to be some theory that cannot be used in practice. Such theories arose and found their way into theosophical literature because, in the beginning, the people who wrote the books did not themselves understand exactly what they were writing. This may well be useful for the thirst for knowledge. But theosophy should become life.
We first turn to the nature of the human being. When we encounter a human being, we first see with our external senses what we call the physical body in theosophical language. This physical body is something that human beings share with their entire environment. It is the only thing that external science recognizes, and yet it is only a small part of the human being. We must penetrate deeper into the nature of the human being, for mere consideration teaches us that there must be something very special about this physical human being. There are other things that can be seen, touched, and so on; every stone is a physical body. But the human being can move, feel, think, grow, feed, and reproduce. None of this is the case with stones, but it is with plants and animals. Humans have nutrition, growth, and reproduction in common with all plants. If they only had a physical body like a stone, they would not be able to grow, feed themselves, or reproduce. So they must have something that enables them to utilize physical forces and substances in such a way that they become means for them to grow and so on. That is the etheric body.
Thus, humans have their physical body in common with all minerals, but their etheric body only with plants and animals. This is initially established by mere consideration. But there is another way of convincing oneself that the etheric body exists. Only those who have developed their higher senses have this ability. Such higher senses are nothing more than a higher development of what lies dormant in every human being.
It is like a person born blind who undergoes surgery; except that not every person born blind can undergo surgery, but the spiritual senses can be developed in every human being if they have the necessary patience and undergo the appropriate preparation. Just to perceive this principle of life, of growth, reproduction, and nutrition, requires a very specific higher perception. We can illustrate what is meant by using the example of hypnosis.
Hypnosis, which has always been known to the initiated, means a state of consciousness different from ordinary sleep. A hypnotized person is in rapport with the hypnotist. A distinction can now be made between positive and negative suggestion occurring in the hypnotized person. The former causes the subject to perceive something that is not there. Negative suggestion consists of diverting attention away from what is there. It is merely an intensification of another state: in ordinary life, we can also turn our attention away from something so that we do not see it, even though our eyes are open. This happens to us involuntarily every day when we are absorbed in something. Theosophy wants nothing to do with such states in which the human consciousness is dulled and the person finds themselves in a twilight state. The person who wants to arrive at theosophical truths must be as powerful in investigating the higher worlds as they are in investigating everyday things. The great dangers of initiation can only befall people when their consciousness is dulled.
Those who want to get to know the etheric body from their own perspective must be able to suggest the physical body away from themselves through their own willpower while fully maintaining their normal consciousness. But then the space is not empty for them; before them they see the etheric body, which appears in a reddish-bluish form of light, like a shadow, but shining, glowing, somewhat darker than young peach blossoms. We can never see this etheric body when we look at a crystal, but we can see it in plants and animals, because it is this part that causes nutrition, growth, and reproduction.
But humans not only have these abilities, they also have the ability to feel pleasure and pain. Plants do not have this ability. The initiate can investigate this through his own experience, because he can identify with the plant. Animals, however, have this ability, because they have another link in common with humans: the astral body. It encompasses everything we know as desire, passion, and so on. This is again clear through reflection, through inner experience. For the initiate, however, it can become an outer experience. The initiate sees this third member of the human being as an egg-shaped cloud in constant inner motion; it is a cloud that surrounds the body, in which the physical body and the etheric body are embedded. When the physical body and etheric body are removed, everything is filled with a fine cloud of light with inner mobility. In this cloud, in this aura, the initiate sees every desire, every impulse, and so on as the color and shape of the astral body; for example, he sees violent passion shooting out of the astral body like flashes of lightning.
Animals have an astral body that has different basic colors depending on the species; the astral body of a lion has a different basic color than that of a lamb. And even in humans, the basic color is not always the same, and if one has a sense for finer differences, one can recognize a person's temperament, their basic moods, in their aura. Nervous people have a tiger-striped aura interspersed with dots. These dots are not static, but constantly light up and disappear again. This is always the case, which is why it is impossible to paint the aura.
But humans also differ from animals. This brings us to the fourth limb of the human being. This fourth limb is expressed in a name that differs from all other names: I can only say “I” to myself. There is no name in the entire language that everyone else could not also say for the same object. Not so with the “I”; humans can only say this to themselves. Those who were initiated have always felt this. The Hebrew initiate called this the “inexpressible name of God,” the God who dwells in man, for it can only be spoken in this soul for this soul. It must sound forth from the soul; it must give itself its own name; no one else can give it a name. Hence the wonderful mood that swept through the audience when the name “Yahweh” was uttered; for Yahweh or Jehovah means ‘I’ or “I am.” In the name that the soul gives itself, God begins to speak in its own soul.
This characteristic gives humans an advantage over animals. Animals do not have the ability to say “I” to themselves. Only humans have the ability to give themselves a name. One must consider the tremendous significance of this word. In his autobiography, Jean Paul recalls how, as a very young boy, he stood in front of a barn and became aware that he was an “I.” He knew that he had experienced the immortal within himself.
Again, this is expressed in a peculiar way for the seer. When he examines the astral body, everything is in constant motion except for a single small space; it remains, like a somewhat elongated egg-shaped bluish sphere, slightly behind the forehead, at the root of the nose. It is found only in humans. In educated people, it is not as noticeable as in uneducated people; it is most clearly visible in savages who are culturally backward. In truth, there is nothing at this point, it is an empty space. Just as the center of a flame, which is empty, appears blue through the halo of light, so this dark empty space also appears blue because the auric light shines all around it. This is the outer expression of the I.
In order to become cultivated, the ego has worked on the astral body and refined the desires. The higher a person stands in moral and intellectual culture, the more the ego has worked into the astral body. The seer can say: This is a developed person, this is an undeveloped person.
What the human being has worked into the astral body is called manas; this is the fifth fundamental part. The amount that the human being has worked into themselves is the amount of manas within them; therefore, part of their astral body is always manas. But it is not immediately given to the human being to exert an influence on their etheric body. Just as one learns to reach a higher moral level, one can also learn to work into one's etheric body. Those who learn this are disciples, chelas. In this way, human beings become masters of their etheric bodies, and the more they have worked into them, the more budhi is present in them. This is the sixth fundamental part, the transformed etheric body.
We can recognize such a chela by something. The ordinary person is not similar to their former incarnation, neither in form nor temperament; but the chela has the same habits, the same temperament as in their former incarnation. They remain similar to themselves. They have consciously worked into the body that carries procreation and growth.
The highest gift that a person can achieve on this earth is to work down into their physical body. That is the most difficult thing of all. Working on the physical body means learning to control one's breath, working on one's blood circulation, following the work of the nerves, and also regulating the thought process. In theosophical language, someone who has reached this stage is called an adept, and has developed what is called the Atma. This is the seventh fundamental part.
Every human being has developed four parts, the fifth partially, and the others in potential. Physical body, etheric body, astral body, ego, manas, buddhi, and atma are the seven members of the human being. Through them, human beings participate in the three worlds: the physical world, the astral world, and the devachan or spiritual world.