Introduction
This book is about
how to obtain super-sensible knowledge, or knowledge of
“higher” worlds. It contains ten lectures on that theme
given by Rudolf Steiner to different audiences in different places,
but arranged here in a certain evolving depth of content.
In a time like the present,
therefore, when so many people are looking for a spiritual
understanding of life — and when many are being led astray by
unscrupulous teachers — it is a matter of no little
importance that such a book should appear now, a book that demands
nothing of the reader but an independent, open-minded judgment of
what it has to say.
As this book is likely to
come to the attention of those who know little or nothing about
Rudolf Steiner, and perhaps even less of super-sensible knowledge, it
may be well to introduce it by saying something about both its author
and his subject. This kind of prospective reader will then be better
able to adapt himself to what it has to say, while those more
familiar with Steiner can plunge straight into the book without
spending any more time with this introduction.
Rudolf Steiner was a
philosopher with a strong scientific background who attracted a
great deal of attention in the first quarter of this century with his
books and lectures on the nature of the super-sensible. He not only
gave detailed descriptions of higher worlds and their beings that are
inaccessible to ordinary sense-perception, but he explained how
knowledge of these worlds could be acquired by anyone willing to
follow a strict and guided development of the ordinary powers of
cognition. Steiner based all that he said on the ability of the human
mind to know. He would have nothing to do with any method that
imposed strange, mystical practices on the aspirant for higher
knowledge, or that demanded implicit obedience to the will of a
teacher or guru. Everything he suggested can be explored only on the
basis of the consciousness that modern man has acquired in the
pursuit of knowledge of nature.
We are accustomed to
calling this knowledge of nature “scientific,” and
though this knowledge was to Steiner merely the outer aspect of a
world of phenomena and beings active “behind the scenes,”
as it were, he was so much in accord with the basic principles of
scientific methodology that he called this higher knowledge
spiritual science. The spiritual scientist directs thinking to
what is given, as does the natural scientist, but does not confine
himself only to that which is given to the senses. He applies
thinking to thought itself as the primary manifestation of
super-sensible reality.
The world that spiritual
science explores, therefore, is the world of creative purposes and
intentions in contrast to the world of sense-perceptible phenomena,
or the “wrought work,” as Steiner called it on one
occasion. Knowledge of these higher worlds is, therefore,
“occult,” hidden from ordinary consciousness, and
hence the term “occultism” used in the opening lines of
this book to distinguish this knowledge from the comprehensive term
“anthroposophy,” which Rudolf Steiner uses to describe
his work as a whole.
Now occultism,
referring as it does to something ordinarily inaccessible to
us, has a strong fascination for some people. Others, of course, are
just as strongly repelled by it. As it is the former who are likely
to be attracted to this book (the others will hardly get beyond the
title), we can proceed at once to offer certain cautionary
remarks to the former, for just because of this strong fascination
one might attempt to embark forthwith upon the discovery of
this extraordinary knowledge without further reflection. It
should be remembered, however, that Steiner had already written a
book on this subject, Knowledge of Higher Worlds and Its
Attainment, and the people who heard the lectures reproduced here
would, for the most part, have been familiar with that book, and with
anthroposophy in general.
To begin with, then, it
needs to be said that as these higher worlds are indeed
“hidden” from ordinary knowledge and consciousness,
the reader would be well advised to get some information about
them before embarking on a quest for higher knowledge. Rudolf
Steiner's two books, Theosophy and Occult Science, an
Outline, are excellent sources of such information.
There are several reasons
for this suggestion. One is that Steiner himself held it as a sine
qua non for the acquisition of higher knowledge that the aspirant
should get some idea beforehand of these worlds from those able
to speak of them from firsthand experience. This is not only
important in light of much that is referred to in the book itself,
but it is also a matter of common sense. Anyone contemplating
traveling to a part of the world that he has never visited will
invariably find out as much about it as he can beforehand from those
who have already been there. He will then not only know what to
expect, but he is likely to understand all the better what he sees
when he gets there. This is even more relevant in the quest for
knowledge of higher worlds, for one is seeking access to worlds that
not only one has never seen, but that are utterly unlike
anything one could see with physical eyes.
There is another and even
more pressing reason. Such a study of the information about the
higher worlds, already existing in what are called the “five
basic books” of anthroposophy, is itself the first step to such
knowledge. A reading of the first chapter of Occult Science, an
Outline will do much to explain this. If the reader finds in such
a preliminary study something to which he can with sound judgment
say, Yes, he will be able to proceed on solid foundations with what
this book has to offer. The reader will discover by such study the
reality of something with which he has long been familiar as a figure
of speech, but which he now recognizes as an inner faculty —
his sense of truth. He will have learned something of the
knowledge-potential of the inner nature of thought, and what can
happen in thinking will take on a new depth of meaning for
him. If he can combine this with a study of Steiner's The
Philosophy of Freedom, he will find his confidence in thinking
enhanced, even in thinking about matters of which he has as yet no
direct experience. This is important, because he will find as he
reads this book that thinking itself is not only a super-sensible
activity, but is the very vehicle by which he finds his way to
experience of these worlds.
There is something else the
reader will have to determine for himself before he takes up a quest
such as this book describes — that is, whether he is both ready
and able to embark upon it. While this might seem to call into
question the statement already made that anyone can take this
path, it does not really. The exercises outlined in this book
are indeed such that anyone can practice them, but they are not
easy. One must be aware of this. They are quite strict, and no one
should embark on them without carefully weighing what that strictness
involves.
We have already touched on
the fact that the occult has a fascination for people. Many would
like to have such knowledge, but it is of the utmost importance to
understand why one wants to obtain this knowledge. The
aspirant must be able to put that question to himself and to answer
it with the utmost honesty and sincerity, for if anything of the
nature of mere curiosity or personal advantage should lie at
the root of that desire, harmless as that might be in itself, it will
become an obstacle in the attainment of higher knowledge.
We touch here on the
moral aspect of the acquisition of higher knowledge, a matter
to which the reader will find Rudolf Steiner calls attention again
and again throughout this book. It is not a matter, however, of
Steiner laying down moral injunctions, but rather of the aspirant
discovering the morality which is implicit in the attainment of
knowledge. Here the strictest scientific integrity, demanding
the exclusion of all personal gratification and desire, is essential.
If the aspirant is not yet ready to accept that morality, then it
would be better for him to continue studying the literature of
spiritual science (which he should be doing in any case) until he is
ready. Here self-knowledge precedes
self-development, and if that knowledge is objective and
thorough enough, it will be found to be essential to
self-development. As Carl Unger, a pupil of Rudolf Steiner, once put
it, “Every knowledge transforms the knower,” and
the path to higher knowledge is primarily a transformation of
the self.
A word or two on what was
meant by being “able” to embark on this quest would not
come amiss here, particularly regarding the “strictness”
already mentioned.
Being “able”
refers primarily to regularity in carrying out the exercises
described by Steiner. Once having embarked on this path there should
be no, but no, “letup.” Whether the reader has the
ability to do that, especially if he is young, is something that
needs careful reflection. “Able” here has nothing to do
with superior intelligence; it is exclusively a matter of the
will. This is why Steiner sets such a modest time limit on the
duration of these exercises: a quarter of an hour, or even five
minutes, is enough if used properly. But the exercises must be done
every day. Regularity is everything; and if one
considers all the eventualities that might upset that regularity, one
might well reflect on whether one will be able to carry this
through. There is nothing quite so discouraging as having to
face having reneged on such work as this, even with the best reason
in the world. It is like dropping from a great height a ball of
string that one has just carefully wound, and having to face the
prospect of winding it all up again.
The reader should also be
aware of what will be happening to him if he decides to follow this
path, and although Steiner makes this abundantly clear, it will not
hurt to underline one thing. One is engaged in transforming the soul
into an organ of perception, and one is doing this largely as the
result of exercises based on thinking. We usually imagine perception
and thinking to be two entirely different activities, but we cannot
really keep them apart. One need only recall how, after a strenuous
bout of thinking, when the concept for which we are searching at last
appears, we invariably say, “Ah! Now I see!” to
realize that perceiving (in this case, perceiving concepts) is
closely interwoven with thinking. One does “see” the
concept that has appeared in consciousness; and it is this seeing
in thinking that the aspirant will be exercising in everything he
does. “As color is to the eye,” says Steiner in Goethe
the Scientist, “and sound to the ear, so are concepts and
ideas to thinking: it [thinking] is an organ of
perception.”
Finally, one must discover
that the satisfaction in doing these exercises should be in the
feeling they engender. There can be no setting a goal for
oneself, such as, “I will do these exercises for a certain
length of time, and then see what happens,” or of drawing an
imaginary chart to plot one's progress, as business executives do to
show whether their profits are going up or down. Paradoxical as
it may seem, although one undertakes these exercises in order to
achieve a certain result, that result should be the last thing with
which one is concerned. For, again paradoxically, that result is not
something one can acquire; it is something that is
given when the higher powers deem that the time is ripe for
enlightenment to be given. And that is something no man can foresee.
It may take months, it may take years. The satisfaction, therefore,
that one can legitimately hope to feel is only that which can be
found in the work itself. It is “love for the action”
that must be discovered. One must come to the point where one would
rather omit anything else in the course of the day than miss the
satisfaction which comes from this work. Then and then only will one
become aware that something is beginning to happen in the soul, a
genuine intercourse between oneself and higher worlds; and although
one may still not be able to “see a thing,” that will not
be important. One will know that such seeing will and must
come, as come it only can, “in God's good time.”
There is just one more
thing that should be said about this book and that should recommend
it regardless of what the reader does about the book otherwise: that
is, the way it reveals what I can only describe as the inner
logic of knowledge. No one who reads this book with an open
mind and the attention it deserves can lay it down without being
convinced not only that such knowledge is possible, but that it is
only really possible in the way the author describes. The reader may
not want to advance to such knowledge himself — there may be
reasons best known to him why he should not attempt it yet —
but there can be no doubt that this knowledge is possible to anyone
who has the determination to see it through. And to know just that
from reading such a book is something unique. Furthermore, the
material in this book is offered by a man who knows from
personal experience what he is talking about, who “lays all his
cards on the table” with regard to what is involved, and yet
never once uses that authority to impose upon the freedom of the
reader as to what he does about it.
There are two things with
which our time has yet to come to grips: one is the extension of
man's knowledge and human consciousness into regions of the
mind hitherto declared forever inaccessible; and the other is
the real nature of human freedom. In this book the author lays out a
plan of approach for the one, and by the way he does so he
acknowledges the indisputable existence of the other.
Alan Howard
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