Man as Symphony of the Creative Word
Part Four. The Secrets of the Human Organism
GA 230
10 November 1923, Dornach
Physical natural laws, etheric natural laws, are the characters of a script which depicts the spiritual world. We only understand these things when we are able to conceive them as written characters from spiritual worlds.
Lecture XI
You will have gathered from the foregoing descriptions that man's relation to his environment is very different from what modern ideas often conceive. It is so easy to think that what exists in man's surroundings, what belongs to the mineral, plant and animal kingdoms and is then taken into the body, that these external material processes which are investigated by the physicist, the chemist and so on, simply continue on in the same way within man himself. There can, however, be no question of this, for one must be clear that within the human skin-processes everything is different from outside it, that the world within differs entirely from the world without. As long as one is not aware of this one will ever and again reach the conclusion that what is examined in a retort, or investigated in some other way, is continued on inside the human organism, and the human organism itself will simply be regarded as a more complicated system of retorts.
You need only recall what I said in yesterday's lecture, that everything mineral within man must be transformed until it reaches the condition of warmth-ether. This means that everything of a mineral nature which enters into the human organism must be so far metamorphosed, so far changed, that at least for a certain period of time, it becomes pure warmth, becomes one with the warmth which man develops as his own individual temperature independent of the warmth of his environment. No matter whether it is salt or something else that we absorb, in one way or another it must assume the form of warmth-ether, and it must do this before it is made use of in the upbuilding of the living organism.
But something quite different is also connected with this: solid substance loses its solid form, when it is changed in the mouth into fluid, and is further transformed into the condition of warmth-ether. It loses weight when it gradually passes over into the fluid form, becomes more and more estranged from the earthly, but only when it has ascended to the warmth-etheric form is it fully prepared to absorb into itself the spiritual which comes from above, which comes from world-spaces.
Thus, if you would gain an idea of how a mineral substance functions in man, you must say the following: There is the mineral substance; this mineral substance enters into man. Within man, passing through the fluid conditions, and so on, it is transformed into warmth-ether. Now it is warmth-ether. This warmth-ether has a strong disposition to absorb into itself what radiates inwards, what streams inwards, as forces from world-spaces. Thus it takes into itself the forces of the universe. And these forces of the universe now form themselves as the spiritual forces which here imbue the warmth-etherized earth-matter with spirit. And only then, with the help of the warmth-etherized earth-substance, does there enter into the body what the body needs for its formation.
So you see—if in the old sense we designate warmth as fire—we can say: What man absorbs in the way of mineral substance is carried upwards within him until it becomes of the nature of fire. And what is of the nature of fire has the disposition to take up into itself the influences of the higher Hierarchies; and then this fire streams back again into all man's internal regions, and builds up, in that it re-solidifies, the material basis of the separate organs. Nothing that man takes into himself remains as it is; nothing remains earthly. Everything, for example, that comes from the mineral kingdom is so far transformed that it can take into itself the spiritual-cosmic, and only then, with the help of what comes from the spiritual cosmos, does it become re-solidified into the earthly condition.
Take from a bone, for instance, a fragment of calcium phosphate. This is in no way the calcium phosphate which you find outside in nature, or which, let us say, you introduce into the laboratory. It is the calcium phosphate which, while it arose from what was absorbed from outside, could only take part in building the human physical form, with the help of the forces which penetrated it during the time when it was changed into the warmth-ether condition.
This, you see, is why man needs substances of the most diverse kinds during the course of his life in order to be able, in accordance with the way he is organized at his particular age, to transform what is lifeless into the condition of warmth-ether. A child is as yet quite unable to change what is lifeless into the warmth-etheric condition; he has not enough strength in his organism. He must drink the milk which is still so nearly akin to the human organism in order to bring it into the condition of warmth-ether, and apply its forces to carrying out the full diffusion of plastic activity which is necessary during the years of childhood for the processes of bodily formation. One only gains insight into the nature of man when one knows that everything which is taken in from outside must be worked upon and basically transformed. Thus, if you take some external substance and wish to test its value for human life you simply cannot do this by means of ordinary chemistry. You must know how much force the human organism must exert in order to bring some external mineral substance, for example, to the fleeting condition of warmth-ether. If it is unable to do this, the external mineral substance is deposited, becoming heavy earth-matter before it has passed over into warmth, and penetrates into the human organism as inorganic matter which remains alien to human tissues.
An example of this kind can appear when the human being is not in a position to bring a substance, in its origin organic but appearing in him mineralized, namely sugar, to the tenuous condition of warmth-ether. Then arises the condition which must result when the whole organism has to share in the assimilation of what is thus present within it, the very serious condition of sugar diabetes. In the case of every substance one must therefore bear in mind to what degree the human organism can be in a position to transmute lifeless substance—whether its nature is already lifeless as when we eat cooking salt, or whether it becomes so as with sugar—into warmth-substance, whereby the organism which is rooted in the earth finds its union with the spiritual cosmos.
Every such deposit in man which remains untransmuted—as in diabetes—signifies that the human being does not find a union of the matter present within him and the spiritual of the cosmos. This is only a specific application of the general axiom that whatever approaches man from outside must be entirely worked over and transformed within him. And if we wish to look after a person's health it is of paramount importance to see to it that nothing enters into him which remains as it was, nothing which cannot be dealt with by the human organism until the least of its particles is transformed. This is not only the case in regard to substances; it is also the case, for instance, in regard to forces.
External warmth—the warmth we feel when we grasp things, the external warmth in the air—this, when taken up by the human organism, must become so transformed that the inner warmth is on a different level from the warmth outside. The external warmth must be transformed within us, so that this external warmth, in which we are not present, is laid hold of by the human organism even down to the very smallest quantity.
Now imagine that I go somewhere where it is cold, and because the cold is too intense, or, because of moving air or draught, the temperature fluctuates, I am not in a position to change the world warmth into my own individual warmth quickly enough. Through this I run the danger of being warmed by the world-warmth from outside like a piece of wood, or a stone. This should not be. I should not be exposed to the danger of external warmth flowing into me as though I were merely some object. At every moment, from the boundary of my skin inwards, I must be able to lay hold of the warmth and make it my own. If I am not in a position to do this I catch cold.
This is the inner process of catching cold. To catch cold is a poisoning by external warmth which is not taken possession of by the organism.
You see, everything in the external world is poison for man, actual poison, and it only becomes of service to him when, through his individual forces, he lays hold of it and makes it his own. For only from man himself do forces go up to the higher hierarchies in a human way; whereas outside man they remain with the elemental nature-beings, with the elemental spirits. In the case of man this wonderful transformation must happen so that within the human organism the elemental spirits may give over their work to the higher hierarchies. For the mineral in man this can only occur when it is absolutely and entirely transformed into warmth-ether.
Let us look at the plant world. Truly this plant world possesses something which bewitches man in the most varied ways when he begins to contemplate the plant covering of the earth with the eye of the spirit. We go out into a meadow or a wood. We dig up, let us say, a plant with its root. If we regard what we have dug up with the eye of the spirit we find a wonderfully magical complex. The root shows itself as something of which we can say that it came into existence entirely in the sphere of the earthly. Yes, a plant root—the more so, the coarser it appears—is really something terribly earthly. It always reminds one—especially a root like a turnip, for instance—of a particularly well-fed alderman. O, yes, it is so; the root of a plant is extremely smug, and self-satisfied. It has absorbed the salts of the earth into itself, and feels a deep sense of gratification at having soaked up the earth. In the whole sphere of the earthly there exists no more absolute expression of satisfaction than such a turnip-root; it is the representative of root-nature.
On the other hand let us look at the blossom. When we observe the blossom with the eye of the spirit we only experience it as our own soul, when it cherishes the tenderest desires.
Only look at a spring flower; it is a sigh of longing, the embodiment of a wish. And something wonderful streams forth over the flower world which surrounds us, if only our soul-perception is delicate enough to be open to it. In spring we see the violet, maybe the daffodil, the lily-of-the-valley, or many little plants with yellow flowers, and we are seized by the feeling that these blossoming plants of spring would say to us: O Man, how pure and innocent can be the desires which you direct towards the spiritual! Spiritual desire-nature, desire-nature bathed, as it were, in piety, breathes from every blossom of spring.
And when the later flowers appear—let us at once take the other extreme, let us take the autumn crocus—can one behold the autumn crocus with soul-perception without having a slight feeling of shame? Does it not warn us that our desires can tend downwards, that our desires can be imbued with every kind of impurity? It is as though the autumn crocuses spoke to us from all sides, as if they would continually whisper to its: Consider the world of thy desires, O Man; how easily you can become a sinner!
Looked at thus, the plant-world is the mirror of human conscience in external nature. Nothing more poetical can be imagined than the thought of this voice of conscience coming forth from some point within us and being distributed over the myriad forms of the blossoming plants which speak to the soul, during the season of the year, in the most manifold ways. The plant-world reveals itself as the wide-spread mirror of conscience if we know how to look at it aright.
If we bear this in mind it becomes of special significance for us to look at the flowering plants and picture how the blossom is really a longing for the light-being of the universe, and how the form of the blossom grows upwards in order to enable the desires of the earth to stream towards this light-being of the universe, and how on the other hand the substantial root fetters the plant to the earth, how it is the root which continually wrests the plant away from its celestial desires, wishing to re-establish it in the substantiality of the earth.
And we learn to understand why this is so when, in the evolutionary history of the earth, we meet the fact that what is present in the root of a plant has invariably been laid down in the time when the moon was still together with the earth.
In the time when the moon was still together with the earth the forces anchored in the moon within the body of the earth worked so strongly that they hardly allowed the plant to become anything but root. When the moon was still with the earth and the earth still had quite another substance, the root element spread itself out and worked downwards with great power. This can be pictured in such a way that one says: The downward thrust of the plant's root-nature spread out powerfully, while up above the plant only peeped out into the cosmos. We could say that the plants sent their shoots out into the cosmos like delicate little hairs. We feel that, while the moon was still with the earth, this moon element, these moon-forces, contained in the earth-body itself, fettered plant-nature to the earthly. And what was then transmitted to the being of the plant remains on as predisposition in the nature of the root.
After the moon left the earth, however, there unfolded in what had previously existed only as tiny little shoots peeping out into the world a longing for the wide light-filled spaces of the cosmos; and now the blossom-nature arose. So that the departure of the moon was a kind of liberation, a real liberation for the plants.
But here we must also bear in mind that everything earthly was grounded in the spiritual. During the old Saturn period—you need only take the description which I gave in my “Occult Science”—the earth was entirely spiritual; it existed only in the warmth-etheric element, it was entirely spiritual. It was out of the spiritual that the earthly was first formed.
And now let us contemplate the plant. In its form it bears the living memory of evolution. It bears in its root-nature the process of becoming earthly, of assuming the physical-material. If we look at the root of a plant we discern that it says something further to us, namely that its existence only became possible because the earthly-material evolved out of the spiritual. Scarcely, however, was the earth relieved of its moon-element than the plant again strove back to the spaces of the light.
And when we consume the plant as nourishment we give it the opportunity of carrying further in the right way what it began outside in nature, the striving back not only to the light-spaces, but to the spirit-spaces of the cosmos. This is why, as I have already said, we must deal with the plant-substance within us until it becomes aeriform, or gaseous, so that the plant may follow its longing for the wide spaces of light and spirit.
I go out into a meadow. I see how the flowers, the blossoms of the plants, strive towards the light. Man consumes the plant, but within him he has a world entirely different from the one outside. Within him he can bring to fulfillment the longing which, outside, the plant expresses in its blossoms. Spread abroad in nature we see the desire-world of the plants. We eat the plants. Within ourselves we drive this longing towards the spiritual world. We must therefore raise the plants into the sphere of the air so that in this lighter realm they may be enabled to strive towards the spiritual.
The plant here undergoes a remarkable process. When man eats plant food the following occurs: If we depict the root below, and above what strives through the leaf to the blossom, then, in this inner transference to the airy condition, we have to experience a total reversal of the plant. The root, which is fettered to the earth, just for the very reason that it is so rooted, strives upwards; it strives upwards towards the spiritual with such power that it leaves the striving of the blossom behind it. It is actually as if you were to picture the plant unfolding in such a way that the upper is pushed down below and the lower up above. The plant reverses itself completely. The part which has already won its way to the blossom has had enjoyment in its material striving towards the light, has brought the material up into the sphere of the light. For this it must now suffer the punishment of remaining below. The root has been the slave of the earthly; but, as you can see from Goethe's theory of the metamorphosis of plants, it bears the whole plant-nature within it. It now strives upwards.
If a man is a really stiff-necked sinner, he is likely to remain so. But the root of a plant, which as long as it is earth-bound makes the impression of a well-fed alderman, immediately it has been eaten by man becomes transformed and strives upwards; whereas that which has brought the material into the sphere of the light, the blossom, must remain down below. Hence in what belongs to the root-element of the plant we have something which, when it is eaten, strives upwards towards man's head out of its inherent nature, while what lies in the direction of the blossom remains in the lower regions, and, in the general process of digestion, does not reach up to forming the head.
Thus we have the remarkable, the wonderful drama that when man consumes something of plant-nature—he need not eat the whole plant, because in each single part the whole plant is inherent (I refer you again to Goethe's theory of metamorphosis)—when man consumes a plant, it transforms itself within him into air, into air which develops plant-wise from above downwards, which grows and blossoms in a downward direction.
In times when such things were known through instinctive clairvoyance, people looked at the external constitution of plants in order to see whether they were such as could be beneficial to man's head, whether they showed a strong root-development, and in consequence a longing for the spiritual. For, when digestion is completed, what we have eaten of such a plant will seek out the head and penetrate it, so that it may there strive upwards towards the spiritual cosmos and enter into the necessary connection with it.
In the case of plants which are strongly imbued with astrality, for example, in the pod-bearing plants, their products remain in man's lower organism, and are unwilling to rise up to the head, with the result that they produce a heavy sleep, and dull the brain on waking. The Pythagoreans wished to be clear thinkers and not introduce digestion into the functions of the head. This is why they forbade the eating of beans.
You see, therefore, that from what happens in nature we can divine something of nature's relation to man, and to what happens in man. If one possesses spiritual initiation-science, one simply cannot imagine how materialistic science comes to grips with human digestion. (Certainly matters are different in regard to a cow's digestion; about this, too, we shall have something further to say later.) Materialistic science states that plants are assimilated just as they are. They are not assimilated just as they are, but are completely spiritualized. The plant is so constituted in itself that in digestion the lower turns into the upper and the upper into the lower. No greater transposition can be imagined. And man immediately becomes ill if he eats even the smallest quantity of a plant where the lowest is not changed into the uppermost, and the uppermost into the lowest.
From this you will realize that man bears nothing in himself which is not produced by the spirit; he must first give to what he assimilates as substance a form which will enable the spirit to influence it.
Turning now to the animal world, we must be clear that the animal has a digestion, and mostly consumes plants. Let us take the herbivorous animal. The animal world takes the plant world into itself. This again is a very complicated process, for when the animal eats the plant it does not possess human processes to set against the plant. Within the animal the plant cannot turn the above into the below and the below into the above. The animal has its vertebral column parallel with the surface of the earth. This means that in the case of the animal what should happen in digestion is brought into complete disorder. What is below strives upwards, and what is above strives downwards, but the whole process gets dammed up in itself, so that animal digestion is something essentially different from human digestion. In animal digestion, what lives in the plant dams itself up. And the result of this is that with the animal the being of the plant is given the promise: “Thou mayest indulge thy longing for world-spaces”—but the promise is not kept. The plant is thrown back again to earth.
Through the fact, however, that in the animal organism the plant is thrown back to earth, there immediately penetrate into the plant—not, as with man in whom the reversal takes place, cosmic spirits with their forces, but certain elemental spirits in their place. And these elemental spirits are fear-spirits, bearers of fear. Thus spiritual perception can follow this remarkable process: The animal itself enjoys its nourishment, enjoys it with inner satisfaction; and while the stream of nourishment goes in one direction, a stream of fear from elemental spirits of fear goes in the other. Through the animal's digestive tract there continually flows along the path of digestion the satisfaction felt in the assimilation of nourishment, and in opposition to this there flows a terrible stream of elemental spirits of fear.
This is what animals leave behind them when they die. When animals die—not those species, perhaps, which I have already described in another way, but including such as belong, for instance, to the four-footed mammals—when these animals die there also dies, or rather comes to life in their dying, a being which is entirely composed of the element of fear. With the animal's death, fear dies, that is to say fear comes to life. In the case of beasts of prey this fear is actually assimilated with their food. The beast of prey, which tears its booty to pieces, devours the flesh with satisfaction. And towards this satisfaction in the consumption of flesh there streams fear, the fear which the plant-eating animal only gives off from itself when it dies, but which already streams out from the beast of prey during its life-time. Through this the astral bodies of such animals as lions and tigers are riddled with fear which they do not as yet detect during their lifetime, but which after death these animals drive back because it goes in opposition to their feeling of satisfaction. Thus carnivorous animals really have an after life in their group soul, an after life which must be said to present a much more terrible Kamaloka than anything which can be experienced by man, and this simply on account of their essential nature.
Naturally you must regard these things as being experienced in quite a different consciousness. If you were suddenly to become materialistic, and began to imagine what the beast of prey must experience by putting yourself in its place, thinking: What would such a Kamaloka be like for me? and were then to judge the beast of prey according to what such a Kamaloka might be for you, then certainly you are materialistic, indeed animalistic, for you transpose yourself into animal nature. These things must of course be understood if one is to comprehend the world; but we must not put ourselves into their category, as when the materialistic puts the whole world into the category of lifeless matter.
Now we come to a subject about which I can only speak on a soul level; for anthroposophy should never come forward to agitate for anything, should never advocate either one thing or another, but should only put forward the truth. The consequences which a person attracts to himself by his manner of living, this is his personal affair. Anthroposophy presents no dogmas, but puts forward truths. For this reason I shall never, even for fanatics, lay down any kind of law as to the consequences of what an animal makes of its plant nourishment. No dogmatic rulings shall be given in regard to vegetarianism, meat-eating and so on, for these things must be relegated to the sphere of individual judgment and it is really only in the sphere of individual experience that they have value. I mention this in order to avoid giving rise to the opinion that anthroposophy entails standing for this or that kind of diet, whereas what it actually does is to make every diet comprehensible.
What I really wished to say was that we must work upon the mineral until it becomes warmth-ether in order that it may absorb the spiritual; then, after the mineral has absorbed the spiritual, man can be built up by it. I mentioned that when the human being is still quite young he has not as yet the strength to work upon what is entirely mineral until it becomes warmth-ether. It has already been worked upon for him in that he drinks milk. Milk has already undergone a preliminary change, whereby the process of transformation to warmth-ether has become easier. Hence in a child the milk with its forces flows up quickly into the head, and can there develop the form-building forces in the way in which the child needs them. For the whole organization of the child proceeds from the head.
If at a later age man wishes to receive these form-building forces, it is not good to promote them by the drinking of milk. In the case of the child what ascends into the head, and is able by means of the forces of the head, which are present until the change of teeth, to ray out formatively into the whole body—this is no longer present in an older person. In later age the whole of the rest of the organism must ray out the formative forces. And these formative forces for the whole organism are particularly strengthened in their impulses when one eats something which works in quite another way than is the case with the head.
You see, the head is entirely enclosed. Within this head are the impulses used in childhood for the formation of the body. In the rest of the body we have bones within, and the formative forces outside. Here, then, the form-building forces must be stimulated from outside. While we are children these form-building forces are stimulated when we bring milk into the head. When we are no longer children these forces are no longer there. What should we now do in order that these formative forces may be stimulated more from outside?
It would obviously be a good thing to be able to have in outer form what is accomplished within by the head, enclosed as it is inside skull. It would be good if what the head does inside itself could somehow be accomplished in outer form from outside. The forces which are there within the head are suited to the consumption of milk; when the milk is there in its etheric transformation it provides a good basis for the development of these head forces. We must, therefore, have something which acts like milk, which, however, is not fabricated within the human being, but is fabricated in outer nature.
Well, there is something existing outside in nature which is a head without an enclosing skull, and which therefore activates from outside those very forces which work inside the head in children who need the milk, and must indeed create it anew; for the child must first bring the milk into the warmth-etheric condition and so create it anew.
Now a stock of bees is really a head which is open on all sides. What the bees carry out is actually the same as what the head carries out within itself. The hive we give them is at most a support. The bees activity, however, is not enclosed, but produced from outside. In a stock of bees, under external spiritual influence, we have the same thing as we have under spiritual influence inside the head. The stock of bees produces its honey, and when we eat and enjoy honey it gives us the up-building forces, which must now be provided more from outside, with the same strength and power which milk gives us for our head during the years of childhood.
Thus, while we are still children we strengthen through the consumption of milk the formative forces working from the head outwards; if at a later age we still need formative forces we must eat honey. Nor do we need to eat it in tremendous quantities—it is only a question of absorbing its forces.
Thus one learns from external nature how strengthening forces must be brought into human life, if only this external nature is fully understood. And if we would conceive a land where there are beautiful children and beautiful old people, what kind of a land would this be? It would be “a land flowing with milk and honey”. So you see ancient instinctive vision was in no way wrong when it said about lands of promise that they are such as flow with milk and honey.
Many such simple sayings contain the profoundest wisdom, and there is really no more beautiful experience than first to make every possible effort to experience the truth, and then to find some ancient holy saying abounding in deep wisdom such as “a land flowing with milk and honey”. That is indeed a rare land, for in it there are only beautiful children and beautiful old people.
You see, to understand man presupposes the understanding of nature. To understand nature provides the basis for the understanding of man. And here the lowest spheres of the material always lead up to the highest spheres of the spiritual: the kingdoms of nature—mineral, animal, vegetable—at the one, the lowest pole; above, at the other pole, the hierarchies themselves.


Elfter Vortrag
Aus den bisherigen Darstellungen werden Sie haben entnehmen können, daß die Beziehungen der Weltumgebung des Menschen zu diesem Menschen selbst denn doch andere sind, als man sich nach den heutigen Begriffen oftmals ausmalt. Man denkt ja so leicht: dasjenige, was in der menschlichen Umgebung lebt, was dem mineralischen, dem pflanzlichen, dem tierischen Reiche angehört und dann von dem Menschen aufgenommen wird, das setze gewissermaßen seine Vorgänge, seine äußerlich stofflichen Vorgänge, die der Physiker, der Chemiker und so weiter untersuchen, im Menschen selber fort. Davon kann aber gar nicht die Rede sein, sondern man muß sich klar sein, daß innerhalb der menschlichen Hautvorgänge alles anders ist als außerhalb derselben, daß innerhalb dieser Hautvorgänge eine ganz andere Welt vorliegt als außerhalb. Solange man sich dessen nicht gewahr ist, wird man immer wieder und wiederum darüber nachdenken, wie das oder jenes, das man in der Retorte oder sonst irgendwie untersucht, sich im menschlichen Organismus fortsetzt, und man wird den menschlichen Organismus selber nur wie eine kompliziertere Anordnung von Retortenvorgängen ansehen.
Allein erinnern Sie sich nur an das, was ich in der gestrigen Betrachtung schon sagte: alles Mineralische muß im Menschen umgesetzt werden bis zum Wärmeäther hin. Das heißt, alles, was in den menschlichen Organismus eindringt an Mineralischem, muß so weit metamorphosiert, umgewandelt werden, daß es wenigstens durch eine gewisse Zeit hindurch reine Wärme ist, und zwar eins mit der Wärme, die der Mensch als seine eigene Wärme über die Wärme seiner Umgebung hinaus entwickelt. Ob wir ein Salz, ob wir irgend etwas anderes Mineralisches in unserem Organismus aufnehmen, es muß die wärmeätherische Form irgendwie annehmen, und zwar annehmen, bevor es verwendet wird im menschlichen Organismus selber zu seinem Aufbau, zu seiner Gestaltung.
Wenn wir also irgendein Mineral außerhalb des menschlichen Organismus haben und uns vorstellen, dieses Mineral wandere da einfach hinein und bilde irgendeine Partie seiner Knochen, seiner Zähne und so weiter, so ist das der reine Unsinn; sondern was da in der menschlichen Gestaltung wiedererscheint, muß zunächst in die völlig flüchtig wärmeätherische Form übergegangen sein und dann zurückverwandelt werden in dasjenige, als das es dann in lebendiger Gestaltung im menschlichen Organismus auftritt.
Aber damit ist noch etwas ganz anderes verbunden; damit ist verbunden, daß zum Beispiel etwas, was feste Form hat, was sich schon im Munde in Wässeriges verwandelt, dann weiter verwandelt wird bis zum Wärmeäther hin, daß das allmählich im Menschen, indem es zunächst in die wäßrige Form übergeht, an Schwere verliert, daß es erdenfremder wird; und bis es hinaufkommt in die wärmeätherische Form, ist es völlig bereit, das Geistige, das von oben kommt, das aus den Weltenweiten kommt, in sich aufzunehmen.
Also wenn Sie sich vorstellen wollen, wie ein Mineralisches im Menschen verwendet wird, so müssen Sie sich folgendes sagen: Da ist das Mineralische (weiß); dieses Mineralische geht in den Menschen ein. Im Menschen wird es durch das Flüssige und so weiter bis zum Wärmeäther verwandelt; da ist es Wärmeäther. Dieser Wärmeäther hat die größte Neigung, dasjenige, was aus den Weltenweiten an Kräften hereinstrahlt und hereinströmt, in sich aufzunehmen. Er nimmt also die Kräfte des Weltenalls auf. Diese Kräfte des Weltenalls bilden sich nun als die Geistkräfte, die hier die wärmeätherisierte Erdenmaterie durchgeistigen. Und von da aus dringt dann mit Hilfe der wärmeätherisierten Erdensubstanz dasjenige erst in den Körper, was der Körper nun braucht zu seiner Gestaltung.
Also denken Sie sich, wenn wir im alten Sinne Wärme als Feuer bezeichnen, so können wir sagen: Was mineralisch vom Menschen aufgenommen wird, das wird im Menschen hinaufgetragen bis zur feurigen Natur. Die feurige Natur ist geneigt, die Einflüsse der höheren Hierarchien in sich aufzunehmen, und dieses Feuer erst strömt dann wiederum in alle menschlichen Innenregionen aus und bildet, indem es sich neuerdings verhärtet, dasjenige, was im Menschen die substantielle Grundlage der einzelnen Organe ist. Nichts, was der Mensch in sich aufnimmt, bleibt so, wie es ist; nichts bleibt irdisch. Alles verwandelt sich, namentlich aus dem mineralischen Reiche, so weit, daß es das Geistig-Kosmische in sich aufnehmen kann und mit Hilfe des Geistig-Kosmischen es erst wiederum zurückverhärtet zum Irdischen.
Nehmen Sie also aus einem Knochen irgendein Stück phosphorsauren Kalk, so ist dieser nicht etwa der phosphorsaure Kalk, den Sie draußen in der Natur finden oder den Sie im Laboratorium meinetwillen herstellen, sondern es ist der phosphorsaure Kalk, welcher entstanden ist aus dem, was äußerlich aufgenommen worden ist mit Hilfe der Kräfte, die dann, während das äußerlich Aufgenommene in den wärmeätherischen Zustand übergegangen war, eingedrungen sind und erst in die Menschenbildung eingegriffen haben.
Sehen Sie, daher braucht der Mensch im Laufe seines Lebens die verschiedensten Substanzen, um, je nachdem er nach seinem Lebensalter organisiert ist, das Leblose umwandeln zu können in Wärmeätherisches. Das Kind könnte überhaupt noch nicht Lebloses in Wärmeätherisches umwandeln es hat noch nicht Kraft genug in seinem Organismus. Te muß die noch der menschlichen Organisation selbst so nahestehende Milch aufnehmen, um diese nun bis zum Wärmeätherischen zu bringen und seine Kräfte dazu verwenden zu können, das wirklich ausgebreitete Plastizieren, das notwendig ist während des kindlichen Alters in bezug auf die Körpergestaltung, ausführen zu können. Man sieht erst hinein in die menschliche Natur, wenn man weiß, daß alles, was von außen aufgenommen wird, gründlich umgearbeitet werden muß. Nehmen Sie daher einen äußeren Stoff und wollen Sie ihn auf seinen Wert für das Menschenleben prüfen, so können Sie das zunächst mit der gewöhnlichen Chemie gar nicht tun, weil Sie wissen müssen, wieviel Kraft der menschliche Organismus aufwenden muß, um einen äußerlich mineralischen Stoff bis zu der Flüchtigkeit des Wärmeäthers zu bringen. Kann er das nicht, dann lagert sich dieser äußere mineralische Stoff in ihm ab, wird schwerer Erdenstoff, bevor er in Wärme übergegangen ist, und durchsetzt, als dem menschlichen Organismus fremd gebliebener unorganischer Stoff, die menschlichen Gewebe.
Ein solches kann zum Beispiel eintreten, wenn der Mensch nicht imstande ist, dasjenige, was mineralisiert - es ist ja ursprünglich organisch —, aber mineralisiert als Zucker in ihm auftritt, bis zu der Flüchtigkeit des Wärmeätherischen zu bringen. Dann setzt es sich vor jenem Zustande ab im Organismus, zu dem es kommen muß, wenn der ganze Organismus beteiligt sein soll an alldem, was da in ihm ist, und es entsteht die so schlimme Zuckerruhr, Diabetes mellitus. Man muß also bei jedem Stoff ins Auge fassen, inwiefern der menschliche Organismus imstande sein kann, das Unlebendige, das entweder der Stoff schon bildet, wenn wir zum Beispiel Kochsalz essen, oder das es wird, wie beim Zucker, bis zur Wärmematerie hinzubringen, wo dann der Organismus, der auf der Erde eingewurzelt ist, seinen Anschluß findet an den geistigen Kosmos.
Jede solche Ablagerung im Menschen, die dann unverarbeitet bleibt wie diejenige, die bei Diabetes eintritt, bedeutet, daß der Mensch in sich nicht für die in ihm vorhandenen Stoffe den Anschluß an das Geistige des Kosmos findet. Das ist nur, ich möchte sagen, eine Einzelanwendung des allgemeinen Satzes, daß dasjenige, was äußerlich an den Menschen herantritt, im Inneren vom Menschen ganz durchgearbeitet werden muß. Man muß, wenn man für die Gesundheit eines Menschen sorgen will, vor allem dafür sorgen, daß nichts in den Menschen hineinkommt, was so bleibt, wie es ist, was nicht bis in das geringste Atom hinein vom menschlichen Organismus umgearbeitet werden kann. Das bezieht sich nicht nur auf Stoffe, das bezieht sich zum Beispiel auch auf Kräfte.
Die äußere Wärme, die Wärme, die wir fühlen, wenn wir die Dinge angreifen, die äußere Wärme, die die Luft hat, sie muß, wenn sie vom menschlichen Organismus aufgenommen wird, umgewandelt werden so, daß tatsächlich die Wärme selbst im Menschen, wenn ich mich so ausdrücken darf, auf einem anderen Niveau liegt als außerhalb. Wenn ich das Wärmeniveau, das die äußere Wärme hat, mit diesem bezeichne (es wird gezeichnet), so muß sie, wenn sie von uns aufgenommen wird, innerlich etwas umgewandelt werden, so daß überall in das, worinnen wir nicht sind, in der äußeren Wärme, der Organismus eingreift. Auch in jedes kleinste Wärmequantum muß der Organismus eingreifen.
Nun denken Sie sich, ich gehe durch die Kälte, und weil die Kälte zu groß ist, oder weil die Kälte in bewegter Luft oder im Luftzug flackert, bin ich nicht imstande, so schnell, wie es notwendig wäre, die Weltenwärme in meine eigene Wärme zu verwandeln. Dabei komme ich in die Gefahr, von der Weltenwärme erwärmt zu werden wie ein Stück Holz oder gar wie ein Stein, die von außen erwärmt werden. Das darf nicht sein. Ich darf nicht der Gefahr ausgesetzt werden, die äußere Wärme bloß wie einen Gegenstand in mich überfließen zu lassen. Ich muß in jedem Augenblicke in der Lage sein, von den Stellen meiner Haut an sofort die Wärme zu ergreifen und zu meiner eigenen zu machen. Bin ich das nicht imstande, so tritt die Erkältung ein.
Das ist der innere Vorgang der Erkältung. Die Erkältung ist eine Vergiftung durch äußere Wärme, die nicht vom Organismus in Besitz genommen worden ist.
Sie sehen, alles das, was draußen in der Welt ist, ist Gift für den Menschen, richtiges Gift, und wird erst dadurch etwas für den Menschen Brauchbares, daß der Mensch Besitz von ihm ergreift durch seine eigenen Kräfte. Denn nur vom Menschen gehen die Kräfte dann in menschlicher Weise hinauf zu den höheren Hierarchien, während sie draußen bei den elementarischen Naturwesen, bei den Elementargeistern bleiben. Beim Menschen muß diese wunderbare Umwandelung geschehen, daß die Elementargeister in der menschlichen Organisation ihre Arbeit den höheren Hierarchien übergeben können. Das kann für das Mineralische nur der Fall sein, wenn das Mineralische ganz und gar in Wärmeätherisches umgewandelt wird.
Sehen wir uns die Pflanzenwelt an. Diese Pflanzenwelt hat in der 'Tat etwas für den Menschen in mannigfaltiger Weise Bezauberndes, wenn er beginnt, mit dem Auge des Geistes die Pflanzendecke der Erde zu betrachten. Wir gehen hinaus auf die Wiese oder irgendwohin in den Wald. Wir graben uns meinetwillen eine Pflanze mit der Wurzel aus. Schauen wir das, was wir da ausgegraben haben, mit dem Auge des Geistes an, so haben wir eigentlich eine wunderbare zauberische Zusammenstellung. Die Wurzel erweist sich als etwas, von dem man eigentlich sagen kann: es ist ganz und gar aufgegangen in dem Irdischen. Ach, eine Pflanzenwurzel, je brutaler sie sich vor uns hinstellt, ist eigentlich etwas so furchtbar Irdisches. Denn es erinnert einen eine Pflanzenwurzel, besonders, sagen wir eine Rübenwurzel, eigentlich immer an einen satten Bankier. Ja, es ist so; es ist die Pflanzenwurzel so ungeheuer behäbig, so zufrieden mit sich. Sie hat die Salze der Erde in sich aufgenommen und fühlt sich so wohlig in diesem Gefühl, die Erde in sich aufgesogen zu haben. Es gibt eigentlich unter allem Irdischen nichts Zufriedeneres als solch eine Rübenwurzel, sie ist der Repräsentant des Wurzelhaften.
Schauen wir dagegen die Blüte an. Wir können eigentlich nicht anders, wenn wir ihr gegenüberstehen mit dem Auge des Geistes, als sie zu empfinden wie unsere eigene Seele, wenn diese die zartesten Wünsche hegt. Sehen Sie sich nur einmal so eine richtige Frühlingsblüte an; sie ist ja im Grunde genommen ein Wunschhauch; sie ist die Verkörperung einer Sehnsucht. Und es gießt sich eigentlich, wenn wir dazu zarten Seelensinn genug haben, über die Blütenwelt, die uns umgibt, etwas Wunderbares aus.
Wir sehen im Frühling das Veilchen oder meinetwillen den Märzbecher oder das Maiglöcklein oder manches gelbblühende Pflänzchen, und wir werden ergriffen davon, so wie wenn uns alle diese frühlingsblühenden Pflanzen sagen wollten: Ach, Mensch, wie rein und unschuldig kannst du eigentlich deine Wünsche nach dem Geistigen hin richten! - Die geistige Wunschnatur, ich möchte sagen, die in Frömmigkeit getauchte Wunschnatur sprießt und sproßt aus jeder Frühlingsblüte.
Wenn dann die späteren Blüten kommen - nehmen wir gleich das Extrem, nehmen wir die Herbstzeitlose -, ja, kann man denn mit Seelensinn die Herbstzeitlose anschauen, ohne ein leises Schamgefühl zu haben? Mahnt sie uns denn nicht daran, daß unsere Wünsche unrein werden können, daß unsere Wünsche durchzogen werden können von den mannigfaltigsten Unlauterkeiten? Man möchte sagen, die Herbstzeitlosen sprechen von allen Seiten so zu uns, als wenn sie uns fortwährend zuraunen wollten: Schaue auf deine Wunschwelt hin, o Mensch, wie leicht du ein Sünder werden kannst.
Und so ist eigentlich die Pflanzenwelt der äußere Naturspiegel des menschlichen Gewissens. Man kann sich nichts Poetischeres denken, als diese im Inneren wie aus einem Punkt herauskommende Gewissensstimme verteilt zu denken auf die mannigfaltigsten Pflanzenblütenformen, die uns die Jahreszeiten hindurch so zur Seele reden, in der mannigfaltigsten Weise zur Seele reden. Die Pflanzenwelt ist der ausgebreitete Spiegel des Gewissens, wenn wir nur die Pflanzenwelt in der richtigen Weise anzusehen wissen.
Wenn wir dies ins Auge fassen, dann wird es uns besonders wichtig werden, auf die Pflanzenblüte hinzuschauen, zu vergleichen, wie die Blüte eigentlich die Sehnsucht ist nach den Lichtweiten des Weltenalls, wie die Blüte förmlich hinaufwächst, um die Wünsche der Erde den Lichtweiten des Weltenalls entgegenzuströmen, und wie auf der anderen Seite die behäbige Wurzel die Pflanze erdengefesselt macht; wie die Wurzel es ist, welche fortdauernd der Pflanze abringt ihr Himmelswünschen und es in Erdenbehaglichkeit umgestalten will.
Wir lernen begreifen, warum das so ist, wenn wir in der Evolutionsgeschichte der Erde darauf kommen, daß dasjenige, was in der Wurzel der Pflanze vorliegt, immer veranlagt worden ist in der Zeit, als der Mond noch bei der Erde war. In der Zeit, als der Mond noch bei der Erde war, wirkten die im Monde verankerten Kräfte innerhalb des Erdenkörpers so stark, daß sie die Pflanzen fast nur zur Wurzel werden ließen. Als der Mond noch bei der Erde war und die Erde noch eine ganz andere Substanz hatte, da breitete sich mächtig nach dem Unteren hin das Wurzelhafte aus. Und man kann dies so darstellen, daß man sagt, nach unten hin breitete sich das Pflanzen-Wurzelhafte mächtig aus, und nach oben guckten die Pflanzen nur heraus in das Weltenall (Tafel 19 links, blau). Ich möchte sagen, wie feine Härchen trieben die Pflanzen ihre Triebe nach dem Weltenall hinaus. So daß man das Gefühl hat: während der Mond noch bei der Erde ist, fesselt dieser Mond, fesseln diese Mondenkräfte, die im Erdenkörper selber enthalten sind, das Pflanzliche an das Irdische. Und dasjenige, was dazumal sich in das Pflanzliche hineinversetzt hat, das bleibt dann in der Anlage im Wurzelhaften weiter.
Aber seit jener Zeit, wo der Mond die Erde verlassen hat, da entfaltet sich die Sehnsucht in den früher nur kleinen, winzigen Trieben, die hinauslugten nach dem Weltenall, da entfaltete sich die Sehnsucht nach den Weiten, nach den Lichtweiten des Weltenalls, und es entstand das Blütenhafte. So daß gewissermaßen der Mondenausgang für das Pflanzenreich eine Art von Befreiung war, eine richtige Befreiung.
Aber wir müssen dabei doch ins Auge fassen, wie alles, was irdisch ist, in dem Geiste urständet. Während der alten Saturnzeit - nehmen Sie nur die Beschreibung, die ich in meiner «Geheimwissenschaft im Umriß» gegeben habe- war die Erde völlig geistig, lebte nur im wärmeätherischen Elemente, war ganz geistig. Aus dem Geistigen heraus hat sich ja erst das Irdische gebildet.
Nun schauen wir uns die Pflanze an. Sie trägt in ihrer Gestalt die lebendige Erinnerung an die Evolution mit sich. Sie trägt in ihrem Wurzelhaften mit sich das Erdigwerden, das Physisch-Stofflichwerden. Schauen wir die Pflanzenwurzel an, so finden wir des weiteren, daß sie uns sagt, sie ist nur möglich geworden dadurch, daß sich aus dem Geistigen heraus das Irdisch-Stoffliche entwickelt hat. Kaum ist aber die Erde entlastet vom Mondenhaften, da strebt die Pflanze wiederum zurück zu den Lichtweiten.
Wenn man nun das Pflanzliche als Nahrung genießt, dann gibt man der Pflanze Gelegenheit, das, was sie außen in der Natur schon begonnen hat, richtig fortzusetzen, zurückzustreben nicht nur zu den Lichtweiten des Kosmos, sondern zu den Geistweiten des Kosmos. Daher kommt es, daß wir das Pflanzliche, wie ich gestern gesagt habe, bis zum Luftartigen, bis zum Gasigen treiben müssen, damit das Pflanzliche seiner Sehnsucht nach den Lichtes-Geistesweiten folgen kann.
Ich gehe hinaus auf die Wiese. Ich schaue es der Blumenblüte, der Pflanzenblüte ab, wie sie nach dem Lichte strebt. Der Mensch genießt die Pflanze. Er hat in sich eine ganz andere Welt als draußen in der Umgebung. Er kann das, was die Pflanze draußen als Sehnsucht in der Blüte ausdrückt, in sich zur Erfüllung bringen. Wir sehen die in der Natur ausgebreitete Sehnsuchtswelt der Pflanzen. Wir genießen die Pflanzen. Wir treiben diese Sehnsucht der geistigen Welt in uns entgegen. Wir müssen dazu die Pflanzen ins Luftreich erheben, damit sie im leichteren Luftreiche die Möglichkeit haben, dem Geistigen entgegenzustreben.
Da macht die Pflanze einen sonderbaren Prozeß durch. Da geschieht, wenn der Mensch das Pflanzliche genießt, das Folgende: Wenn wir hier schematisch das Wurzelhafte haben (Tafel 19, Mitte rechts), dann dasjenige, was durch das Blatt zur Blüte strebt, dann haben wir bei diesem Luftartigwerden des Pflanzlichen innerlich ein völliges Umstülpen des Pflanzenwesens zu durchleben. Die Wurzel, die eben dadurch, daß sie in der Erde lebt, erdengefesselt ist, sie strebt hinauf; sie strebt am mächtigsten hinauf nach dem Geistigen und läßt das Blütenstreben hinter sich zurück. Es ist tatsächlich so, wie wenn Sie das Pflanzliche sich vorstellen würden in dieser Weise nach unten entfaltet, und Sie das Untere hier innen durchstecken könnten, so daß das Obere unten und das Untere oben wird [umgekehrtes Taschentuch]. Die Pflanze stülpt sich vollständig um. In sich selber gestaltet sie sich so, daß das Untere oben und das Obere unten ist. Was schon bis zur Blüte gediehen ist, das hat sozusagen im materiellen Streben das Licht genossen, hat die Materie bis zum Licht hinaufgebracht. Dadurch muß es zur Strafe das erleiden, daß es jetzt auch unten bleiben muß. Die Wurzel ist der Sklave des Irdischen gewesen; aber, das sehen Sie schon aus Goethes Pflanzenmetamorphosenlehre, sie trägt zugleich die gesamte Pflanzennatur in sich. Sie strebt nach aufwärts.
Ja, wenn der Mensch einmal ein hartnäckiger Sünder ist, dann will er es auch bleiben. Die Wurzel der Pflanze, die, solange sie erdengefesselt ist, auf einen den Eindruck eines satten Bankiers macht, wird sofort, wenn der Mensch sie ißt, umgewandelt und strebt nach oben, während dasjenige, was die Materie ins Licht gebracht hat, die Blüte, unten bleiben muß. So daß wir an dem, was in der Pflanze wurzelhaft ist, etwas haben, was, wenn es genossen wird, eigentlich durch seine eigene Wesenheit nach dem Kopfe des Menschen hinstrebt, während dasjenige, was gegen die Blüte zu liegt, in den unteren Regionen bleibt; das kommt im Gesamtstoffwechsel nicht bis zur Kopfbildung hinauf.
Und so haben wir das merkwürdige, wunderbare Schauspiel, daß, wenn der Mensch das Pflanzliche genießt - er braucht natürlich nicht die ganze Pflanze zu genießen, denn jedes einzelne Stück der Pflanze enthält die ganze Pflanze; wie gesagt, sehen Sie sich da Goethes Metamorphosenlehre an -, wenn der Mensch die Pflanze genießt, verwandelt sie sich in ihm in Luft, in eine Luft, die von oben nach unten pflanzlich weiterschreitet, die von oben nach unten gewissermaßen blüht.
In Zeiten, in denen man solche Dinge durch das alte instinktive Hellsehen gewußt hat, hat man die Pflanzen nach ihrer äußeren Beschaffenheit darauf angesehen, ob sie so sind, daß sie für den Kopf des Menschen etwas sein können, ob sie stark schon in der Wurzel angezeigt haben, daß sie Sehnsucht haben nach dem Geistigen. Dann wird dasjenige, was wir von ihnen genießen, sich den Kopf des Menschen gewissermaßen bei der vollen Verdauung aufsuchen und bis in den Kopf dringen, um da hinaufzustreben nach dem geistigen Kosmos und mit dem die nötige Verbindung eingehen.
Bei Pflanzen, bei denen schon ein starkes Durchdrungensein mit Astralischem, wie zum Beispiel bei den Hülsenfrüchten, da ist, da wird selbst die Frucht in den unteren Regionen bleiben, nicht hinauf wollen bis zum Kopfe, dadurch aber den Schlaf dumpf und damit den Kopf, wenn der Mensch erwacht, dumpf machen. Die Pythagoreer wollten reine Denker bleiben, nicht die Verdauung zu Hilfe nehmen bei der Kopffunktion; daher haben sie die Bohnen verboten.
In dieser Weise kann man aus dem, was da ist in der Natur, die Beziehung zum Menschlichen und zu dem, was im Menschen geschieht, ahnen. Man weiß eigentlich, wenn man geistige Initiationswissenschaft hat, gar nicht, wie die materialistische Wissenschaft zurechtkommt bei der menschlichen Verdauung — gewiß, bei der Kuhverdauung ist es anders, davon werden wir auch noch sprechen — damit, daß sie meint, das Pflanzliche wird einfach aufgenommen. Es wird nicht aufgenommen bloß, es wird total vergeistigt. Es wird in sich selber so gestaltet, daß das Unterste sich zum Obersten und das Oberste sich zum Untersten kehrt. Man kann sich keine größere Umbildung denken. Und der Mensch wird sofort krank, wenn er auch nur das kleinste Quantum einer Pflanze genießt, bei der nicht das Unterste zuoberst und das Oberste zuunterst gekehrt wird.
Daraus aber ersehen Sie, daß der Mensch nichts in sich trägt, was nicht der Geist macht, denn dasjenige, was der Mensch stofflich aufnimmt, dem muß er erst eine Form geben, so daß der Geist seinen Einfluß darauf haben kann.
Wenn wir ans Tierische herangehen, dann müssen wir uns klar sein, daß das Tierische selbst zunächst die Verdauung hat, daß das Tierische aufnimmt zunächst das Pflanzliche. Sehen wir auf die Pflanzenfresser. Das Tierische nimmt das Pflanzliche in sich auf. Das ist wiederum ein sehr komplizierter Vorgang, denn indem das Tier das Pflanzliche in sich aufnimmt, kann ja das Tier keine menschliche Gestalt dem Pflanzlichen entgegensetzen. Daher kann sich im Tiere das Pflanzliche nicht von unten nach oben und von oben nach unten kehren. Das Tier hat seine Wirbelsäule parallel der Erdoberfläche. Dadurch wird dasjenige, was da geschehen will beim Verdauen, im Tiere ganz in Unordnung gebracht. (Tafel 19, rechts.) Da will das Untere nach oben, und es will das Obere nach unten, und die Sache staut sich, staut sich in sich selber, so daß die tierische Verdauung etwas wesentlich anderes ist als die menschliche Verdauung. Bei der tierischen Verdauung staut sich dasjenige, was in der Pflanze lebt. Die Folge davon ist, daß beim Tier dem Pflanzenwesen das Versprechen gegeben wird: du darfst deiner Sehnsucht nach den Weltenweiten genügen — aber es wird ihm das Versprechen nicht gehalten. Die Pflanze wird wiederum zurück zur Erde geworfen.
Dadurch aber, daß im tierischen Organismus die Pflanze zurück zur Erde geworfen wird, dringen sofort in die Pflanze, statt daß wie beim Menschen, wenn die Umkehr stattfindet, von oben die Weltengeister mit ihren Kräften eindringen, beim Tier gewisse Elementargeister ein. Und diese Elementargeister, die sind Angstgeister, Angstträger. So daß für die geistige Anschauung dieses Merkwürdige zu verfolgen ist: Das Tier selbst genießt die Nahrung, genießt sie in innerer Behaglichkeit; und während der Strom der Nahrung nach der einen Seite geht, geht ein Angststrom von Angst-Elementargeistern nach der anderen Seite. Fortwährend strömt in der Richtung der Verdauung durch den Verdauungskanal des Tieres das Wohlbehagen der Nahrungsaufnahme, und entgegengesetzt der Verdauung strömt eine furchtbare Strömung von Angst-Elementargeistigem.
Das ist auch dasjenige, was die Tiere zurücklassen, wenn sie sterben. Indem die Tiere, die also nicht denjenigen Ordnungen angehören, die ich in anderer Weise schon beschrieben habe, aber auch solche, die zum Beispiel den vierfüßigen Säugetieren angehören, indem diese Tiere sterben, stirbt immer, man könnte eigentlich sagen, lebt auf in ihrem Sterben ein Wesen, das ganz aus Ängstlichkeit zusammengesetzt ist. Mit dem Tier stirbt Angst, das heißt, lebt Angst auf. Bei Raubtieren ist es so, daß sie schon diese Angst mitgenießen. Das Raubtier, das seine Beute zerreißt, genießt mit Wohlbehagen das Fleisch. Und diesem Wohlgefallen am Fleischgenusse strömt entgegen die Angst, die Furcht, die das pflanzenfressende Tier erst beim Tode von sich gibt, die das Raubtier bereits ausströmt während seines Lebens. Daher sind solche Tiere, wie Löwen, Tiger, in ihrem astralischen Leibe von Angst durchsetzt, die sie zunächst nicht spüren während ihres Lebens, die aber nach ihrem "Tode diese Tiere, weil es eben entgegengesetzt dem Wohlbehagen geht, zurücktreiben; so daß die fleischfressenden Tiere sogar noch ein Nachleben haben in ihrer Gruppenseele, ein Nachleben, das ein viel furchtbareres Kamaloka darstellt, könnte man sagen, als es die Menschen jemals durchleben können, einfach dadurch, daß die Raubtiere diese Natur haben, die sie schon einmal haben.
Natürlich müssen Sie sich bei solchen Dingen vorstellen, daß das ja in einem anderen Bewußtsein erlebt wird. Also wenn Sie gleich wiederum materialistisch werden und nun anfangen zu denken, was das Raubtier erleben muß, indem Sie sich an seine Stelle versetzen, und jetzt sich denken: Wie muß solch ein Kamaloka für mich sein? - und dann anfangen, das Raubtier danach zu beurteilen, wie für Sie solch ein Kamaloka sein könnte, dann sind Sie natürlich materialistisch, eigentlich animalistisch; dann versetzen Sie sich in die tierische Natur. Natürlich, man muß diese Dinge verstehen, wenn man die Welt verstehen will, aber man darf nicht sozusagen in diese Dinge sich hineinversetzen, wie sich der Materialist für die ganze Welt in die leblose Materie hineinversetzt.
Hier beginnt ein Kapitel, über das ich ja nicht anders als seelisch spreche, denn Anthroposophie soll niemals agitatorisch auftreten, nicht für das eine und nicht für das andere eintreten, sondern nur eben die Wahrheit hinstellen. Was der Mensch dann für seine Lebensart für Konsequenzen zieht, das ist seine Sache, denn Anthroposophie gibt keine Vorschriften, sondern spricht die Wahrheiten aus. Daher werde ich niemals für die Fanatiker selber nun gewissermaßen Gebote aufstellen, die da folgen aus dem, was ein Tier gestaltet aus der Pflanzennahrung. Ich werde also von diesem Gesichtspunkte aus nicht in gebothafter Weise über Vegetarismus, Fleischessen und dergleichen sprechen, denn diese Dinge müssen schon durchaus in die Sphäre des eigenen Erwägens gelegt werden und haben eigentlich nur einen Wert, wenn sie in die Sphäre des eigenen Erlebens gelegt werden. Ich erwähne das, damit eben nicht die Meinung entsteht, Anthroposophie bedeute, für diese oder jene Ernährungsweise und dergleichen einzutreten, während sie in der Tat nur jede Art von Ernährungsweise begreiflich macht.
Dasjenige aber, was ich eben zeigen wollte, war, daß wir das Mineralische bis zum Wärmeätherischen treiben müssen, damit es das Geistige aufnehmen kann; dann wird vom Mineralischen aus, nach Aufnahme des Geistigen, der Mensch aufgebaut. Wenn der Mensch noch ganz jung ist, sagte ich, so hat er noch nicht die Kraft, das ganz Mineralische zum Wärmeätherischen zu treiben. Es wird ihm vorgearbeitet, indem er die Milch in sich aufzunehmen hat, in der schon eine Verwandlung geschehen ist, wodurch dann dasjenige, was in Wärmeätherisches verwandelt werden muß, leichter verwandelt werden kann, so daß beim Kinde die genossene Milch mit ihren Kräften sich rasch nach dem Haupte ergießt und vom Haupte aus die formbildenden Impulse entwickeln kann, wie sie beim Kinde notwendig sind. Denn die ganze Organisation des Kindes geht vom Haupte aus.
Wenn der Mensch sich diese formbildenden Kräfte in einem späteren Alter erhalten will, so tut er nicht gut, das durch den Milchgenuß zu befördern; denn dasjenige, was beim Kinde nach dem Haupte geht und durch die bis zum Zahnwechsel vorhandenen Kräfte des Hauptes in der Lage ist, gestaltend auszustrahlen in den ganzen Körper, das ist beim späteren, beim älteren Menschen nicht mehr vorhanden. Da muß dann der ganze übrige Organismus die gestaltenden Kräfte ausstrahlen. Und diese gestaltenden Kräfte für den übrigen Organismus, die können ganz besonders dadurch in ihrer Impulsivität gefördert werden, daß man irgend etwas nimmt, was anders wirkt als der Kopf.
Sehen Sie, der Kopf ist ringsherum geschlossen. In diesem Kopfe sind die kindlichen Impulse für die Gestaltung des Körpers. Im übrigen Körper, da haben wir Knochen innen, die gestaltenden Kräfte sind außen. (Tafel 19, links, gelb/weiß.) Da muß dasjenige, was die gestaltenden Kräfte sind, von außen angeregt werden. Wenn wir in den Menschen Milch hineinbringen, so werden diese gestaltenden Kräfte im Kopf angeregt, solange wir Kind sind. Wenn wir nicht mehr Kind sind, sind sie nicht mehr da. Was sollen wir denn da eigentlich dann tun, damit wir diese gestaltenden Kräfte mehr von außen anregen können?
Da wäre offenbar gut, wenn man in der Lage wäre, das, was da der Kopf tut, indem er von der Schädeldecke eingeschlossen ist, was er da ganz im Inneren drinnen tut, wenn man das in der äußeren Form haben könnte; wenn irgendwo von außen das gemacht würde, was der Kopf da im Inneren tut. Die Kräfte, die da drinnen sind, die sind für den Milchgenuß gut; wenn da die Milch in ihrer ätherischen Verwandlung drinnen ist, dann gibt sie eine gute Grundlage ab für diese Entwickelung der Kopfkräfte. Wir müßten zum Beispiel so etwas haben wie die Milch, was aber nicht im Inneren des Menschen fabriziert wird, sondern von außen fabriziert wird.
Da gibt es in der Natur etwas, was ein Kopf ist ohne die Schädeldecke, wo also von außen dieselben Kräfte wirken, die im Kopfe drinnen wirken, wo sie die Milch brauchen, sogar die Milch wieder erzeugen; denn das Kind muß die Milch erst in den wärmeätherischen Zustand überführen und sie dann wieder erzeugen. - Nun, ein Kopf, der nach allen Seiten offen ist, ist der Bienenstock. (Tafel 19, Mitte links.) Dasjenige, was die Bienen treiben, ist eigentlich dasselbe, nur in der äuBeren Welt - wir geben ihnen höchstens als Unterstützung den Bienenkorb -, was der Kopf im Inneren treibt; nur ist es da nicht abgeschlossen, sondern von außen bewirkt. Wir haben dann im Bienenstock drinnen unter dem schon äußeren geistigen Einfluß dasselbe, was wir hier im Kopf unter dem geistigen Einfluß haben. Wir haben da den Honig drinnen im Bienenstock, und wenn wir den Honig nehmen und genieRen ihn als älterer Mensch, dann gibt er uns für das, was jetzt mehr von außen die gestaltenden Kräfte geben muß, dieselbe Macht und Gewalt, die uns die Milch für den Kopf während des kindlichen Alters gibt.
Während wir also Kinder sind, fördern wir vom Kopfe aus die plastischen Kräfte durch den Milchgenuß; brauchen wir im späteren Alter noch plastizierende Kräfte, dann müssen wir Honig essen, und wir brauchen ihn nicht in furchtbaren Quantitäten zu essen, weil es nur darauf ankommt, die Kräfte zu haben von ihm.
Also man sieht der äußeren Natur ab, wie man dem menschlichen Leben Förderungsimpulse zuführen muß, wenn man diese äußere Natur völlig versteht. Und wenn man ein Land ausdenken wollte, wo es schöne Kinder und schöne alte Leute gibt, was müßte das für ein Land sein? Das müßte ein Land sein, wo «Milch und Honig fließt»! Sie sehen also, ein altes instinktives Schauen hat gar nicht mit Unrecht gesagt von solchen Ländern, nach denen man sich sehnte: das sind solche, «wo Milch und Honig fließt».
Manches solches einfache Wort enthält ungeheuer tiefe Weisheiten, und man hat eigentlich keine schöneren Erlebnisse, als zuerst mit aller möglichen Anstrengung die Wahrheit zu erforschen und dann irgendwo ein uralt heiliges Wahrwort zu finden, das von tiefer Weisheit strotzt, wie das von dem Lande, wo «Milch und Honig fließt». Denn das ist wirklich ein seltenes Land: da sind nur schöne Kinder und nur schöne Greise.
Sie sehen, den Menschen verstehen, setzt voraus, die Natur verstehen. Die Natur verstehen, gibt die Grundlage zum Menschenverständnis. Da führt immer das unterste Stoffliche bis hinauf zum höchsten Geistigen: die Reiche der Natur, mineralisches, tierisches, pflanzliches Reich an dem einen, unteren Pol, die Hierarchien an dem anderen, oberen Pol.


Eleventh Lecture
You will have gathered from the previous presentations that the relationship between man's world environment and man himself is different from what is often imagined according to today's concepts. It is so easy to think that what lives in the human environment, what belongs to the mineral, vegetable and animal kingdoms and is then absorbed by the human being, to a certain extent continues its processes, its external material processes, which the physicist, the chemist and so on investigate, in the human being himself. But there can be no question of this; one must realize that everything is different within the human skin processes than outside them, that there is a completely different world within these skin processes than outside them. As long as one is not aware of this, one will think again and again about how this or that which one examines in the test tube or in some other way is continued in the human organism, and one will only see the human organism itself as a more complicated arrangement of test tube processes.
Just remember what I said in yesterday's observation: everything mineral must be converted in the human being up to the heat ether. In other words, everything mineral that enters the human organism must be metamorphosed, transformed, to such an extent that it is pure heat, at least for a certain time, and one with the heat that the human being develops as his own heat over and above the heat of his surroundings. Whether we take in a salt or any other mineral in our organism, it must somehow take on the warmth-etheric form, and that before it is used in the human organism itself for its construction, for its formation.
So if we have any mineral outside the human organism and imagine that this mineral simply wanders in there and forms some part of his bones, his teeth and so on, that is pure nonsense; but what reappears there in the human formation must first have passed over into the completely volatile heat-etheric form and then be transformed back into that as which it then appears in living form in the human organism.
But something quite different is connected with this; it is connected with the fact that, for example, something that has a solid form, that is already transformed in the mouth into something watery, is then further transformed into the warmth ether, that it gradually loses its heaviness in the human being by first passing into the watery form, that it becomes more alien to the earth; and until it comes up into the warmth etheric form, it is completely ready to absorb the spiritual that comes from above, that comes from the world expanses.
So if you want to imagine how a mineral is used in the human being, you must say the following: There is the mineral (white); this mineral enters the human being. In the human being it is transformed through the liquid and so on to the heat ether; there it is heat ether. This warmth ether has the greatest tendency to absorb into itself that which radiates and flows in from the realms of the world. It therefore absorbs the forces of the universe. These forces of the universe are now formed as the spiritual forces that spiritualize the heat-etherized earth matter here. And from there, with the help of the heat-etherized earth substance, that which the body now needs for its formation first penetrates into the body.
So think of it, if we describe warmth as fire in the old sense, then we can say: What is absorbed mineral-wise by the human being is carried up in the human being to the fiery nature. The fiery nature is inclined to absorb the influences of the higher hierarchies into itself, and only then does this fire flow out again into all the inner regions of man and, hardening itself anew, forms that which is the substantial basis of the individual organs in man. Nothing that man takes into himself remains as it is; nothing remains earthly. Everything is transformed, especially from the mineral kingdom, to such an extent that it can absorb the spiritual-cosmic into itself and with the help of the spiritual-cosmic it hardens back into the earthly.
So if you take any piece of phosphoric acid lime from a bone, it is not the phosphoric acid lime that you find outside in nature or that you produce in the laboratory for my sake, but it is the phosphoric acid lime that has arisen from what has been absorbed externally with the help of the forces that then, while the externally absorbed had passed into the thermo-etheric state, penetrated and first intervened in the formation of the human being.
You see, this is why the human being needs the most diverse substances in the course of his life in order to be able to transform the lifeless into the warmth-etheric, depending on how he is organized according to his age. The child could not yet transform the inanimate into the warmth-etheric, it does not yet have enough strength in its organism. It must absorb the milk, which is still so close to the human organization itself, in order to bring it to the warmth-etheric and to be able to use its powers to carry out the truly expanded plasticizing that is necessary during the child's age with regard to body formation. You can only see into human nature when you know that everything that is taken in from outside must be thoroughly reworked. Therefore, if you take an external substance and want to test its value for human life, you cannot do this at first with ordinary chemistry, because you must know how much energy the human organism must expend in order to bring an external mineral substance to the volatility of the heat ether. If it cannot do this, then this external mineral substance is deposited within it, becomes heavier earth material before it has passed into heat, and permeates the human tissues as an inorganic substance that has remained foreign to the human organism.
This can occur, for example, if the human being is not able to bring that which is mineralized - it is originally organic - but mineralized as sugar in him, to the volatility of the heat etheric. Then it settles in the organism before that state to which it must come, if the whole organism is to be involved in all that is in it, and the so terrible sugar dysentery, diabetes mellitus, arises. One must therefore consider with every substance to what extent the human organism can be able to bring the inanimate, which either the substance already forms when we eat table salt, for example, or which it becomes, as with sugar, up to the heat matter, where the organism, which is rooted on earth, then finds its connection to the spiritual cosmos.
Any such deposit in the human being that then remains unprocessed, like that which occurs with diabetes, means that the human being does not find the connection to the spiritual of the cosmos for the substances present in him. This is only, I would like to say, an individual application of the general proposition that that which approaches man externally must be completely worked through by man internally. If you want to take care of a person's health, you must above all ensure that nothing enters the person that remains as it is, that cannot be reworked by the human organism down to the smallest atom. This doesn't just apply to substances, it also applies to forces, for example.
The external heat, the heat that we feel when we touch things, the external heat that the air has, when it is absorbed by the human organism, must be transformed in such a way that the heat itself in the human being, if I may put it that way, is actually at a different level than outside. If I designate the heat level that the external heat has with this (it is drawn), then when it is absorbed by us, it must be transformed somewhat internally, so that everywhere in that which we are not in, in the external heat, the organism intervenes. The organism must also intervene in every smallest quantum of heat.
Now imagine I am walking through the cold, and because the cold is too great, or because the cold flickers in moving air or in a draught, I am not able to transform the world's warmth into my own warmth as quickly as would be necessary. In doing so, I run the risk of being warmed by the world's warmth like a piece of wood or even like a stone that is warmed from the outside. That must not happen. I must not be exposed to the danger of merely allowing the external warmth to flow into me like an object. At every moment I must be able to immediately seize the warmth from the parts of my skin and make it my own. If I am not able to do this, the cold will set in.
This is the inner process of the common cold. The common cold is poisoning from external heat that has not been taken possession of by the organism.
You see, everything that is outside in the world is poison for man, real poison, and only becomes something useful for man when man takes possession of it through his own powers. For it is only from man that the forces then ascend in a human way to the higher hierarchies, while outside they remain with the elemental beings of nature, with the elemental spirits. This wonderful transformation must take place in the human being so that the elemental spirits in the human organization can hand over their work to the higher hierarchies. This can only be the case for the mineral if the mineral is completely transformed into the heat etheric.
Let us look at the plant world. This plant world does indeed have something enchanting for man in many ways when he begins to observe the plant cover of the earth with the eye of the spirit. We go out into the meadow or somewhere in the forest. We dig up a plant by the root for my sake. If we look at what we have dug up with the eye of the spirit, we actually have a wonderful, magical composition. The root proves to be something of which we can actually say: it has completely merged with the earthly. Ah, a plant root, the more brutally it presents itself to us, is actually something so terribly earthly. Because a plant root, especially, let's say, a turnip root, always reminds you of a rich banker. Yes, it is like that; the plant root is so incredibly sedate, so content with itself. It has absorbed the salts of the earth and feels so comfortable in this feeling of having absorbed the earth. There is actually nothing more content among all earthly things than such a turnip root, it is the representative of the root-like.
Let's look at the flower, on the other hand. When we stand before it with the eye of the spirit, we cannot help but feel it like our own soul when it harbors the most tender desires. Just take a look at a real spring blossom; it is basically a breath of desire; it is the embodiment of a longing. And it actually pours out something wonderful over the world of blossoms that surrounds us, if we have a delicate enough soul.
We see the violet in spring, or, for my sake, the March cup or the lily of the valley or many a yellow-flowering plant, and we are moved by it, as if all these spring-flowering plants wanted to say to us: Oh, man, how pure and innocent you can actually direct your desires towards the spiritual! - The spiritual desire nature, I would like to say, the desire nature immersed in piety sprouts and sprouts from every spring blossom.
When the later blossoms come - let's take the extreme, let's take the autumn crocus - can we look at the autumn crocus with a sense of soul without feeling a slight sense of shame? Does it not remind us that our desires can become impure, that our desires can be permeated by the most diverse impurities? One might say that the autumn timeless ones speak to us from all sides as if they wanted to whisper to us continually: Look at your world of desires, O man, how easily you can become a sinner.
And so the plant world is actually the external natural mirror of the human conscience. One can think of nothing more poetic than to imagine this voice of conscience coming from within, as if from a single point, distributed over the most varied forms of plant blossoms, which speak to our souls throughout the seasons, speak to our souls in the most varied ways. The plant world is the expanded mirror of conscience, if only we know how to look at the plant world in the right way.
When we consider this, then it will become particularly important for us to look at the plant flower, to compare how the flower is actually the longing for the light expanses of the universe, how the flower literally grows upwards to stream the wishes of the earth towards the light expanses of the universe, and how, on the other hand, the stolid root makes the plant earthbound; how it is the root that continually wrests the plant's heavenly desires and wants to transform them into earthly comfort.
We learn to understand why this is so when we come to the conclusion in the evolutionary history of the earth that what is present in the root of the plant has always been predisposed in the time when the moon was still with the earth. In the time when the moon was still with the earth, the forces anchored in the moon worked so strongly within the earth's body that they allowed the plants to become almost only roots. When the moon was still with the earth, and the earth still had a completely different substance, the root-like element spread powerfully downwards. And this can be represented in such a way that one says that the plant-rootedness spread mightily downwards, and upwards the plants only looked out into the universe (plate 19 left, blue). I would like to say that the plants pushed their shoots out into the universe like fine hairs. So that one has the feeling: while the moon is still with the earth, this moon, these lunar forces, which are contained in the earthly body itself, bind the vegetable to the earthly. And that which at that time was transferred into the vegetable then remains in the plant in the root-like.
But since that time, when the moon left the earth, the longing unfolded in the formerly only small, tiny shoots that reached out into the universe, the longing unfolded for the vastness, for the light expanses of the universe, and the flower-like emerged. So that to a certain extent the exit of the moon was a kind of liberation for the plant kingdom, a real liberation.
But we must bear in mind how everything that is earthly originates in the spirit. During the old Saturnian period - just take the description I gave in my “Secret Science in Outline” - the earth was completely spiritual, lived only in the warmth-etheric element, was completely spiritual. It was out of the spiritual that the earthly was formed.
Now let us look at the plant. In its form it carries with it the living memory of evolution. In its roots it carries with it the becoming earthy, the becoming physical and material. If we look at the plant root, we also find that it tells us that it has only become possible because the earthly material has developed out of the spiritual. But as soon as the earth is relieved of the moonlike, the plant again strives back to the light expanses.
When one now enjoys the vegetable as food, then one gives the plant the opportunity to continue correctly what it has already begun outside in nature, to strive back not only to the light expanses of the cosmos, but to the spirit expanses of the cosmos. That is why, as I said yesterday, we have to drive the vegetable to the aerial, to the gaseous, so that the vegetable can follow its longing for the light-spirit expanses.
I go out into the meadow. I watch the flower blossom, the plant blossom, as it strives for the light. Man enjoys the plant. They have a completely different world inside them than outside in their surroundings. He can bring to fulfillment within himself what the plant outside expresses as longing in the blossom. We see the world of longing that plants express in nature. We enjoy the plants. We drive this longing towards the spiritual world within us. To do this, we must lift the plants into the realm of air so that they have the opportunity to strive towards the spiritual in the lighter realm of air.
There the plant undergoes a strange process. When man enjoys the plant, the following happens: If we have here schematically the root-like (Plate 19, center right), then that which strives through the leaf to blossom, then we have to experience inwardly a complete inversion of the plant being when the plant becomes aerial. The root, which is earthbound precisely because it lives in the earth, strives upwards; it strives most powerfully upwards towards the spiritual and leaves the flowering striving behind it. It is really as if you were to imagine the plant unfolding downwards in this way, and you could push the lower part through here, so that the upper part becomes the bottom and the lower part the top [inverted handkerchief]. The plant turns completely inside out. It forms itself in such a way that the lower part is at the top and the upper part at the bottom. What has already blossomed has, so to speak, enjoyed the light in its material striving, has brought matter up to the light. Thus it must suffer the punishment that it must now also remain below. The root has been the slave of the earthly; but, as you can already see from Goethe's theory of plant metamorphosis, it also carries the entire plant nature within itself. It strives upwards.
Yes, once man is a stubborn sinner, he wants to remain so. The root of the plant, which, as long as it is bound to the earth, gives the impression of a rich banker, is immediately transformed when man eats it and strives upwards, while that which has brought matter into the light, the blossom, must remain below. So that we have something in what is rooted in the plant which, when it is consumed, actually strives towards the head of man through its own essence, while that which lies towards the blossom remains in the lower regions; this does not come up to the formation of the head in the overall metabolism.
And so we have the strange, wonderful spectacle that when the human being enjoys the plant - of course he does not need to enjoy the whole plant, for each individual part of the plant contains the whole plant; as I said, take a look at Goethe's theory of metamorphosis - when the human being enjoys the plant, it is transformed in him into air, into an air that progresses plant-like from top to bottom, that blossoms, as it were, from top to bottom.
In times when such things were known through the old instinctive clairvoyance, plants were looked at according to their outer constitution to see whether they were such that they could be something for the human head, whether they had already strongly indicated in the root that they had a longing for the spiritual. Then that which we enjoy from them will, as it were, seek out the human head during full digestion and penetrate into the head in order to strive upwards towards the spiritual cosmos and enter into the necessary connection with it.
With plants that are already strongly permeated with the astral, such as legumes, even the fruit will remain in the lower regions, not wanting to ascend to the head, but thereby dulling the sleep and thus dulling the head when the person awakens. The Pythagoreans wanted to remain pure thinkers, not to use digestion to help the head function; that is why they forbade beans.
In this way, one can guess from what is there in nature the relationship to the human and to what happens in man. Actually, if one has spiritual initiation science, one does not know at all how materialistic science gets along with human digestion - of course, it is different with cow digestion, we will also talk about that - by thinking that the vegetable is simply absorbed. It is not merely absorbed, it is totally spiritualized. It is formed in itself in such a way that the lowest turns into the highest and the highest turns into the lowest. No greater transformation can be imagined. And man immediately becomes ill if he enjoys even the smallest quantity of a plant in which the lowest is not turned to the highest and the highest to the lowest.
But from this you can see that man carries nothing within him that is not made by the spirit, for that which man takes in materially must first be given a form so that the spirit can have its influence on it.
When we approach the animal, then we must be clear that the animal itself first has digestion, that the animal first absorbs the vegetable. Let us look at the herbivores. The animal absorbs the vegetable. This is again a very complicated process, for by absorbing the vegetable, the animal cannot oppose the vegetable with a human form. Therefore, the plant cannot turn itself from below to above and from above to below in the animal. The animal has its spinal column parallel to the surface of the earth. Thus what wants to happen during digestion is completely disorganized in the animal. (Plate 19, right.) The lower part wants to go up, and the upper part wants to go down, and the matter accumulates, accumulates in itself, so that animal digestion is something essentially different from human digestion. In animal digestion, that which lives in the plant accumulates. The consequence of this is that in the animal the plant being is given the promise: you may satisfy your longing for the world's vastness - but the promise is not kept. The plant is again thrown back to the earth.
But because in the animal organism the plant is thrown back to earth, instead of the world spirits and their powers entering the plant from above, as they do in humans when the reversal takes place, certain elemental spirits enter the animal. And these elemental spirits are spirits of fear, carriers of fear. So that for the spiritual view this strange thing can be observed: The animal itself enjoys the food, enjoys it in inner comfort; and while the stream of food goes to one side, a stream of fear elemental spirits goes to the other side. Continuously, in the direction of digestion, the comfort of food intake flows through the animal's digestive tract, and in the opposite direction of digestion, a terrible current of fear elemental spirits flows.
This is also what the animals leave behind when they die. When animals that do not belong to the orders that I have already described in another way, but also those that belong to the four-footed mammals, for example, die, a being that is entirely composed of fearfulness always dies, one could actually say, lives on in their death. Fear dies with the animal, that is, fear comes to life. With predators it is the case that they already enjoy this fear. The predator that tears apart its prey enjoys the flesh with pleasure. And this pleasure in the enjoyment of meat is countered by fear, the fear that the herbivorous animal only gives off at death, which the predator already exudes during its life. Therefore, such animals, like lions, tigers, are permeated in their astral body by fear, which they do not feel at first during their life, but which after their "death drives these animals back, because it goes just opposite to the comfort; so that the carnivorous animals even still have an afterlife in their group soul, an afterlife that represents a much more terrible Kamaloka, one could say, than humans can ever live through, simply because the predators have this nature, which they already have once.
Of course, you have to imagine that this is experienced in a different consciousness. So if you immediately become materialistic again and start to think what the predator must experience by putting yourself in its place, and now think to yourself: What must such a Kamaloka be like for me? - and then start to judge the predator according to what such a Kamaloka could be like for you, then of course you are materialistic, actually animalistic; then you are putting yourself in the animal nature. Of course, you have to understand these things if you want to understand the world, but you must not, so to speak, put yourself into these things as the materialist puts himself into inanimate matter for the whole world.
This is where a chapter begins that I cannot speak about in any other way than emotionally, because anthroposophy should never be an agitator, it should not advocate one thing or another, but only present the truth. What consequences a person then draws for his way of life is up to him, for anthroposophy does not prescribe, but speaks the truth. Therefore, I will never lay down commandments for the fanatics themselves that follow from what an animal forms from plant food. From this point of view, therefore, I will not speak in a commanding manner about vegetarianism, meat-eating and the like, for these things must certainly be placed in the sphere of one's own considerations and actually only have value if they are placed in the sphere of one's own experience. I mention this so that the opinion does not arise that anthroposophy means advocating this or that form of nutrition and the like, whereas in fact it only makes every kind of nutrition comprehensible.
But what I just wanted to show was that we must drive the mineral to the warmth etheric so that it can absorb the spiritual; then from the mineral, after absorbing the spiritual, the human being is built up. When the human being is still quite young, I said, he does not yet have the strength to drive the completely mineral to the warmth-etheric. He is prepared for this by absorbing the milk in which a transformation has already taken place, whereby that which must be transformed into warmth-etheric can then be transformed more easily, so that in the child the milk consumed with its forces pours out rapidly towards the head and can develop from the head the formative impulses which are necessary in the child. For the whole organization of the child emanates from the head.
If the human being wants to preserve these formative powers at a later age, he does not do well to promote this through the consumption of milk; for that which in the child goes to the head and is able to radiate formatively into the whole body through the powers of the head present up to the change of teeth, is no longer present in the later, in the older human being. The rest of the organism must then radiate the formative forces. And these formative forces for the rest of the organism can be promoted in their impulsiveness in particular by taking something that has a different effect than the head.
You see, the head is closed all around. In this head are the childish impulses for shaping the body. In the rest of the body we have bones inside, the formative forces are outside. (Plate 19, left, yellow/white.) The formative forces must be stimulated from the outside. When we bring milk into the human being, these formative forces are stimulated in the head as long as we are a child. When we are no longer a child, they are no longer there. What should we actually do then so that we can stimulate these formative forces more from the outside?
It would obviously be good if we were able to do what the head does when it is enclosed by the skullcap, what it does inside, if we could have it in an external form; if somewhere on the outside we could do what the head does on the inside. The forces that are inside are good for the enjoyment of milk; if the milk is inside in its etheric transformation, then it provides a good basis for the development of the head forces. We should have something like milk, for example, which is not produced within the human being but is produced from the outside.
There is something in nature that is a head without the skullcap, where the same forces work from outside that work inside the head, where they need the milk, even produce the milk again; for the child must first transfer the milk into the heat-etheric state and then produce it again. - Now, a head that is open on all sides is the beehive. (Plate 19, center left.) What the bees do is actually the same, only in the outer world - we give them at most the beehive as a support - as what the head does inside; only there it is not closed, but brought about from outside. We then have the same in the beehive under the already external spiritual influence as we have here in the head under the spiritual influence. We have the honey inside the beehive, and when we take the honey and enjoy it as an older person, it gives us the same power and force for that which must now be given more from the outside by the formative forces, as the milk gives us for the head during childhood.
When we are children, we promote the plastic powers from the head through the consumption of milk; if we still need plasticizing powers in later life, then we must eat honey, and we do not need to eat it in terrible quantities, because it is only important to have the powers from it.
So we can see from external nature how we must provide human life with stimulating impulses if we fully understand this external nature. And if you wanted to imagine a country where there are beautiful children and beautiful old people, what kind of country would it have to be? It would have to be a country where “milk and honey flow”! So you see, an old instinctive view has not wrongly said of such countries that one longed for: these are those “where milk and honey flow”.
Many such simple words contain tremendously profound wisdom, and there is actually no more beautiful experience than to first explore the truth with all possible effort and then to find somewhere an ancient sacred word of truth that brims with deep wisdom, like that of the land where “milk and honey flow”. For that really is a rare land: there are only beautiful children and only beautiful old people.
You see, understanding people requires understanding nature. Understanding nature provides the basis for understanding people. The lowest material always leads up to the highest spiritual: the kingdoms of nature, the mineral, animal and plant kingdoms at one, lower pole, the hierarchies at the other, upper pole.

