Lecture One
KOBERWITZ,
7th June, 1924.
MY DEAR FRIENDS,
With profound thanks
I look back on the words which Count Keyserlingk has just spoken. For
the feeling of thanks is not only justified on the part of those who
are able to receive from Anthroposophical Science. One can also feel
deeply what I may call the thanks of Anthroposophia itself —
thanks which in these hard times are due to all who share in
anthrosposophical interests.
Out of the spirit of
Anthroposophia, therefore, I would thank you most heartily for the
words you have just spoken. Indeed, it is deeply gratifying that we
are able to hold this Agriculture Course here in the house of Count
and Countess Keyserlingk. I know from my former visits what a
beautiful atmosphere there is in Koberwitz — I mean also the
spiritual atmosphere. I know that the atmosphere of soul and spirit
which is living here is the best possible premiss for what must be
said during this Course.
Count Keyserlingk has
told us that there may be some discomforts for one or another among
us. He was speaking especially of the eurhythmists; though it may be
the “discomforts” are shared by some of our other
visitors from a distance. Yet on the other hand, considering the
purpose of our present gathering, it seems to me we could scarcely be
accommodated better for this Lecture Course than here, in a farm so
excellent and so exemplary.
Whatever comes to
light in the realms of Anthroposophia, we also need to live in it
with our feelings — in the necessary atmosphere. And for our
Course on Farming this condition will most certainly be fulfilled at
Koberwitz. All this impels me to express our deeply felt thanks to
Count Keyserlingk and to his house. In this I am sure Frau Doctor
Steiner will join me. We are thankful that we may spend these festive
days — I trust they will also be days of real good work —
here in this house.
I cannot but believe:
inasmuch as we are gathered here in Koberwitz, there will prevail
throughout these days an agricultural spirit which is already deeply
united with the Anthroposophical Movement. Was it not Count
Keyserlingk who helped us from the very outset with his advice and
his devoted work, in the farming activities we undertook at Stuttgart
under the Kommende Tag Company? His spirit, trained by his deep and
intimate Union with Agriculture, was prevalent in all that we were
able to do in this direction. And I would say, forces were there
prevailing which came from the innermost heart of our Movement and
which drew us hither, quite as a matter of course, the moment the
Count desired us to come to Koberwitz.
Hence I can well
believe that every single one of us has come here gladly for this
Agriculture Course. We who have come here can express our thanks just
as deeply and sincerely, that your House has been ready to receive us
with our intentions for these days. For my part, these thanks are
felt most deeply, and I beg Count Keyserlingk and his whole house to
receive them especially from me. I know what it means to give
hospitality to so many visitors and for so many days, in the way in
which I feel it will be done here. Therefore I think I can also give
the right colouring to these words of thanks, and I beg you to
receive them, understanding that I am well aware of the many
difficulties which such a gathering may involve in a house remote
from the City. Whatever may be the inconveniences of which the Count
has spoken — representing, needless to say, not the “Home
Office” but the “Foreign Office” — whatever
they may be, I am quite sure that every single one of us will go away
fully satisfied with your kind hospitality.
Whether you will go
away equally satisfied with the Lecture-Course itself, is doubtless a
more open question, though we will do our utmost, in the discussions
during the succeeding days, to come to a right understanding on all
that is here said. You must not forget: though the desire for it has
been cherished in many quarters for a long time past, this is the
first time I have been able to undertake such a Course out of the
heart of our anthroposophical striving. It pre-supposes many
things.
The Course itself
will show us how intimately the interests of Agriculture are bound
up, in all directions, with the widest spheres of life. Indeed there
is scarcely a realm of human life which lies outside our subject.
From one aspect or another, all interests of human life belong to
Agriculture. Here, needless to say, we can only touch upon the
central domain of Agriculture itself, albeit this of its own accord
will lead us along many different side tracks — necessarily so,
for the very reason that what is here said will grow out of the soil
of Anthroposophia itself.
In particular, you
must forgive me if my introductory words to-day appear —
inevitably — a little far remote. Not everyone, perhaps, will
see at once what the connection is between this introduction and our
special subject. Nevertheless, we shall have to build upon what is
said to-day, however remote it may seem at first sight. For
Agriculture especially is sadly hit by the whole trend of modern
spiritual life. You see, this modern spiritual life has taken on a
very destructive form especially as regards the economic realm,
though its destructiveness is scarcely yet divined by many.
Our real underlying
intentions, in the economic undertakings which grew out of the
Anthroposophical Movement, were meant to counteract these things.
These undertakings were created by industrialists, business men, but
they were unable to realise in all directions what lay in their
original intentions, if only for the reason that the opposing forces
in our time are all too numerous, preventing one from calling forth a
proper understanding for such efforts. Over against the “powers
that be,” the individual is often powerless. Hitherto, not even
the most original and fundamental aspects of these industrial and
economic efforts, which grew out of the heart of the Anthroposophical
Movement, have been realised. Nay, they have not even reached the
plane of discussion. What was the real, practical point? I will
explain it in the case of Agriculture, so that we may not be speaking
in vague and general, but in concrete terms.
We have all manner of
books and lecture courses on Economics, containing, among other
things, chapters on the economic aspects of Agriculture. Economists
consider, how Agriculture should be carried on in the light of
social-economic principles. There are many books and pamphlets on
this subject: how Agriculture should be shaped, in the light of
social and economic ideas. Yet the whole of this — the giving
of economic lectures an the subject and the writing of such books
— is manifest nonsense. Palpable nonsense, I say, albeit that is
practised nowadays in the widest circles. For it should go without
saying, and every man should recognise the fact: One cannot speak of
Agriculture, not even of the social forms it should assume, unless
one first possesses as a foundation a practical acquaintance with the
farming job itself. That is to say, unless one really knows what it
means to grow mangolds, potatoes and corn! Without this foundation
one cannot even speak of the general economic principles which are
involved. Such things must be determined out of the thing itself,
not by all manner of theoretic considerations.
Nowadays, such a
statement seems absurd to those who have heard University lectures on
the economics of Agriculture. The whole thing seems to them so well
established. But it is not so. No one can judge of Agriculture who
does not derive his judgment from field and forest and the breeding
of cattle. All talk of Economics which is not derived from the job
itself should really cease. So long as people do not recognise that
all talk of Economics — hovering airily over the realities
— is mere empty talk, we shall not reach a hopeful prospect,
neither in Agriculture nor in any other sphere.
Why is it that people
think they can talk of a thing from theoretic points of view, when
they do not understand it? The reason is, that even within their
several domains they are no longer able to go back to the real
foundations. They look at a beetroot as a beetroot. No doubt it has
this or that appearance; it can be cut more or less easily, it has
such and such a colour, such and such constituents. All these things
can no doubt be said. Yet therewithal you are still far from
understanding the beetroot. Above all, you do not yet understand the
living-together of the beetroot with the soil, with the field, the
season of the year in which it ripens, and so forth.
You must be clear as
to the following (I have often used this comparison for other spheres
of life): You see a magnetic needle. You discern that it always
points with one end approximately to the North, and with the other to
the South. You think, why is it so? You look for the cause, not in
the magnetic needle, but in the whole Earth, inasmuch as you assign
to the one end of the Earth the magnetic North Pole, and to the other
the magnetic South.
Anyone who looked in
the magnet-needle itself for the cause of the peculiar position it
takes up, would be talking nonsense. You can only understand the
direction of the magnet-needle if you know how it is related to the
whole Earth. Yet the same nonsense (as applied to the magnetic
needle) is considered good sense by the men of to-day when applied to
other things.
There, for example,
is the beetroot growing in the earth. To take it just for what it is
within its narrow limits, is nonsense if in reality its growth
depends on countless conditions, not even only of the Earth as a
whole, but of the cosmic environment. The men of to-day say and do
many things in life and practice as though they were dealing only
with narrow, limited objects, not with effects and influences from
the whole Universe. The several spheres of modern life have suffered
terribly from this, and the effects would be even more evident were
it not for the fact that in spite of all the modern science a certain
instinct still remains over from the times when men were used to work
by instinct and not by scientific theory.
To take another
sphere of life: I am always glad to think that those whose doctors
have prescribed how many ounces of meat they are to eat, and how much
cabbage (some of them even have a balance beside them at the table
and carefully weigh out everything that comes on to their plate)
— it is all very nice; needless to say, one ought to know such
things — but I am always glad to think how good it is that the
poor fellow still feels hungry, if, after all, he has not had enough
to eat! At least there is still this instinct to tell him so.
Such instincts really
underlay all that men had to do before a “science” of
these things existed. And the instincts frequently worked with great
certainty. Even to-day one is astonished again and again to read the
rules in the old “Peasants' Calendars.” How infinitely
wise and intelligent is that which they express! Moreover, the man of
pure instincts is well able to avoid superstition in these matters:
and in these Calendars, beside the proverbs full of deep meaning for
the sowing and the reaping, we find all manner of quips, intended to
set aside nonsensical pretentions. This for example: —
“Kräht der Hahn auf dem Mist,
So regnet es, oder es bleibt wie es ist.”
“If the cock crows on the dunghill,
It'll rain — or it'll stay still.”
So the needful dose of humour is mingled with the instinctive
wisdom in order to ward off mere superstition.
We, however, speaking
from the point of view of Anthroposophical Science, do not desire to
return to the old instincts. We want to find, out of a deeper
spiritual insight, what the old instincts — as they are growing
insecure — are less and less able to provide. To this end we
must include a far wider horizon in our studies of the life of plant
and animal, and of the Earth itself. We must extend our view to the
whole Cosmos.
From one aspect, no
doubt, it is quite right that we should not superficially connect the
rain with the phases of the Moon. Yet on the other hand there is a
true foundation to the story I have often told in other circles. In
Leipzig there were two professors. One of them, Gustav Theodor
Fechner, often evinced a keen and sure insight into spiritual
matters. Not altogether superstitiously, from pure external
observations he could see that certain periods of rain or of no rain
were connected, after all, with the Moon and with its coursing round
the earth.
He drew this as a
necessary conclusion from the statistical results. That however was a
time when orthodox science already wanted to overlook such matters,
and his colleague, the famous Professor Schleiden, poured scorn on
the idea “for scientific reasons.” Now these two
professors of the University of Leipzig also had wives. Gustav
Theodor Fechner, who was a man not without humour, said: “Well,
let our wives decide.”
In Leipzig at that
time the water they needed for washing clothes was not easy to
obtain, and a certain custom still prevailed. You had to fetch your
water from a long distance. Hence they were wont to put out pails and
barrels to catch the rain water.
This was Frau Prof.
Schleiden's custom as well as Frau Prof. Fechner's. But they had not
room enough to put out their barrels in the yard at the same time. So
Prof. Fechner said: “If my honoured colleague is right, if it
makes no difference, then let Frau Prof. Schleiden put out her barrel
when by my indications, according to the phases of the Moon, there
will be less rain. If it is all nonsense, Frau Prof. Schleiden will
surely be glad to do so.”
But, lo and behold,
Frau Prof. Schleiden rebelled. She preferred the indications of Prof.
Fechner to those of her own husband. And so indeed it is. Science may
be perfectly correct. Real life, however, often cannot afford to take
its cue from the “correctness” of science!
But we do not wish to
speak only in this way. We are in real earnest about it. I only
wanted to point out the need to look a little farther afield than is
customary nowadays. We must do so in studying that which alone makes
possible the physical life of man on Earth — and that, after all,
is Agriculture. I do not know whether the things which can be said at
this stage out of Anthroposophical Science will satisfy you in all
directions, but I will do my best to explain what Anthroposophical
Science can give for Agriculture.
* * *
To-day, by way of
introduction, I will indicate what is most important for Agriculture
in the life of the Earth. Nowadays we are wont to attach the greatest
importance to the physical and chemical constituents. To-day,
however, we will not take our Start from these; we will take our
start from something which lies behind the physical and chemical
constituents and is nevertheless of great importance for the life of
plant and animal.
Studying the life of
man (and to a certain extent it applies to animal life also), we
observe a high degree of emancipation of human and animal life from
the outer Universe. The nearer we come to man, the greater this
emancipation grows. In human and animal life we find phenomena
appearing — to begin with — quite independent not only of
the influences from beyond the Earth, but also of the atmospheric and
other influences of the Earth's immediate environment. Moreover, this
not only appears so; it is to a high degree correct for many things
in human life.
True, it is
well-known that the pains of certain illnesses are intensified by
atmospheric influences. There is, however, another fact of which the
people of to-day are not so well aware. Certain illnesses and other
phenomena of human life take their course in such a way that in their
time-relationships they copy the external processes of Nature. Yet in
their beginning and end they do not coincide with these
Nature-processes. We need only call to mind one of the most important
phenomena of all, that of female menstruation. The periods, in their
temporal course, imitate the course of the lunar phases, but they do
not coincide with the latter in their beginning and ending. And there
are many other, less evident phenomena, both in the male and in the
female organism, representing imitations of rhythms in outer
Nature.
If these things were
studied more intimately, we should for example have a better
understanding of many things that happen in the social life by
observing the periodicity of the Sun-spots. People only fail to
observe these things because that in human life which corresponds to
the periodicity of the Sun-spots does not begin when they begin, nor
does it cease when they cease. It has emancipated itself. It shows
the same periodicity, the identical rhythm, but its phases do not
coincide in time. While inwardly maintaining the rhythm and
periodicity, it makes them independent — it emancipates
itself.
Anyone, of course, to
whom we say that human life is a microcosm and imitates the
macrocosm, is at liberty to reply. That is all nonsense! If we
declare that certain illnesses show a seven day's fever period, one
may object: Why then, when certain outer phenomena appear, does not
the fever too make its appearance and run parallel, and cease with
the external phenomena? It is true that the fever does not; but,
though its temporal beginning and ending do not coincide with the
outer phenomena, it still maintains their inner rhythm. This
emancipation in the Cosmos is almost complete for human life; for
animal life it is less so; plant life, an the other hand, is still to
a high degree immersed in the general life of Nature, including the
outer earthly world.
Hence we shall never
understand plant life unless we bear in mind that everything which
happens on the Earth is but a reflection of what is taking place in
the Cosmos. For man this fact is only masked because he has
emancipated himself; he only bears the inner rhythms in
himself. To the plant world, however, it applies in the highest
degree. That is what I should like to point out in this introductory
lecture.
The Earth is
surrounded in the heavenly spaces, first by the Moon and then by the
other planets of our planetary system. In an old instinctive science
wherein the Sun was reckoned among the planets, they had this
sequence: Moon, Mercury, Venus, Sun, Mars, Jupiter, Saturn. Without
astronomical explanations I will now speak of this planetary life,
and of that in the planetary life which is connected with the earthly
world.
Turning our attention
to the earthly life on a large scale, the first fact for us to take
into account is this. The greatest imaginable part is played in this
earthly life (considered once more on a Large scale, and as a whole)
by all that which we may call the life of the silicious substance
in the world. You will find silicious substance for example, in
the beautiful mineral quartz, enclosed in the form of a prism and
pyramid; you will find the silicious substance, combined with oxygen,
in the crystals of quartz.
Imagine the oxygen
removed (which in the quartz is combined with silicious substance)
and you have so-called silicon. This substance is included by modern
chemistry among the “elements,” oxygen, nitrogen,
hydrogen, sulphur, etc. Silicon therefore, which is here combined
with oxygen, is a “chemical element.”
Now we must not
forget that the silicon which lives thus in the mineral quartz is
spread over the Earth so as to constitute 27-28% of our Earth's
crust. All other substances are present in lesser quantities, save
oxygen, which constitutes 47-48%. Thus an enormous quantity of
silicon is present. Now, it is true this silicon, occurring as it
does in rocks like quartz, appears in such a form that it does not
seem very important when we are considering the outer, material
aspect of the Earth with its plant-growth. (The plant-growth is
frequently forgotten).
Quartz is insoluble
in water — the water trickles through it. It therefore seems
— at first sight — to have very little to do with the
ordinary, obvious conditions of life. But once again, you need only
remember the horse-tail — equisetum — which contains 90%
of silica — the same substance that is in quartz — very
finely distributed.
From all this you can
see what an immense significance silicon must have. Well-nigh half of
what we meet on the Earth consists of silica. But the peculiar thing
is how very little notice is taken of it. It is practically excluded
to-day even from those domains of life where it could work most
beneficially.
In the Medicine that
proceeds from Anthroposophical Science, silicious substances are an
essential constituent of numerous medicaments. A large class of
illnesses are treated with silicic acid taken internally, or
outwardly as baths. In effect, practically everything that shows
itself in abnormal conditions of the senses is influenced in a
peculiar way by silicon. (I do not say what lies in the senses
themselves, but that which shows itself in the senses,
including the inner senses — calling forth pains here or there
in the organs of the body).
Not only so;
throughout the “household of Nature,” as we have grown
accustomed to call it, silicon plays the greatest imaginable part,
for it not only exists where we discover it in quartz or other rocks,
but in an extremely fine state of distribution it is present in the
atmosphere. Indeed, it is everywhere. Half of the Earth that is at
our disposal is of silica.
Now what does this
silicon do? In a hypothetical form, let us ask ourselves this
question. Let us assume that we only had half as much silicon in our
earthly environment. In that case our plants would all have more or
less pyramidal forms. The flowers would all be stunted. Practically
all plants would have the form of the cactus, which strikes us as
abnormal. The cereals would look very queer indeed. Their stems would
grow thick, even fleshy, as you went downward; the ears would be
quite stunted — they would have no full ears at all.
That on the one hand.
On the other hand we find another kind of substance, which must occur
everywhere throughout the Earth, albeit it is not so widespread as
the silicious element. I mean the chalk or limestone substances and
all that is akin to these — limestone, potash, sodium
substances. Once more, if these were present to a less extent, we
should have plants with very thin stems — plants, to a large
extent, with twining stems; they would all become like creepers. The
flowers would expand, it is true, but they would be useless: they
would provide practically no nourishment. Plant-life in the form in
which we see it to-day can only thrive in the equilibrium and
co-operation of the two forces — or, to choose two typical
substances, in the co-operation of the limestone and silicious
substances respectively.
Now we can go still
farther. Everything that lives in the silicious nature contains
forces which comes not from the Earth but from the so-called
distant planets, the planets beyond the Sun — Mars,
Jupiter and Saturn. That which proceeds from these distant plants
influences the life of plants via the silicious and kindred
substances into the plant and also into the animal life of the Earth.
On the other hand, from all that is represented by the planets
near the Earth — Moon, Mercury and Venus — forces
work via the limestone and kindred substances. Thus we may say, for
every tilled field: Therein are working the silicious and the
limestone natures; in the former, Saturn, Jupiter and Mars; and in
the latter, Moon, Venus and Mercury.
In this connection
let us now look at the plants themselves. Two things we must observe
in the plant life. The first thing is that the entire plant-world,
and every single species, is able to maintain itself — that is
to say, it evolves the power of reproduction. The plant is able to
bring forth its kind, and so on. That is the one thing. The other is,
that as a creature of a comparatively lower kingdom of Nature, the
plant can serve as nourishment for those of the higher kingdoms.
At first sight, these
two currents in the life and evolution of the plant have little to do
with one another. For the process of development from the mother
plant to the daughter plant, the granddaughter plant and so on, it
may well seem a matter of complete indifference to the formative
forces of Nature, whether or no we eat the plant and nourish
ourselves thereby. Two very different sets of interests are
manifested here. Yet in the whole nexus of Nature's forces, it works
in this way:—
Everything connected
with the inner forte of reproduction and growth — everything
that contributes to the sequence of generation after generation in
the plants — works through those forces which come down from
the Cosmos to the Earth: from Moon, Venus and Mercury, via the
limestone nature. Suppose we were merely considering what emerges in
plants such as we do not eat — plants that simply renew
themselves again and again. We look at them as though the cosmic
influences from the forces of Venus, Mercury and Moon did not
interest us. For these are the forces involved in all that reproduces
itself in the plant-nature of the Earth.
On the other hand,
when plants become foodstuffs to a large extent — when they
evolve in such a way that the substances in them become foodstuffs
for animal and man, then Mars, Jupiter and Saturn, working via the
silicious nature, are concerned in the process. The silicious nature
opens the plant-being to the wide spaces of the Universe and awakens
the senses of the plant-being in such a way as to receive from all
quarters of the Universe the forces which are moulded by these
distant planets. Whenever this occurs, Mars, Jupiter and Saturn are
playing their part. From the sphere of the Moon, Venus and Mercury,
on the other hand, is received all that which makes the plant capable
of reproduction.
To begin with, no
doubt this appears as a simple piece of information. But truths like
this, derived from a somewhat wider horizon, lead of their own accord
from knowledge into practice. For we must ask ourselves: If forces
come into the Earth from Moon, Venus and Mercury and become effective
in the life of plants, by what means can the process be more or lese
quickened or restrained? By what means can the influences of Moon or
Saturn on the life of plants be hindered, and by what means
assisted?
Observe the course of
the year. It takes its course in such a way that there are days of
rain and days without rain. As to the rain, the modern physicist
investigates practically no more than the mere fact that when it
rains, more water falls upon the Earth than when it does not rain.
For him, the water is an abstract substance composed of hydrogen and
oxygen. True, if you decompose water by electrolysis, it will fall
into two substances, of which the one behaves in such and such a way,
and the other in another way. But that does not yet tell us anything
complete about water itself. Water contains far, far more than what
emerges from it chemically, in this process, as oxygen and
hydrogen.
Water, in effect, is
eminently suited to prepare the ways within the earthly domain for
those forces which come, for instance, from the Moon. Water brings
about the distribution of the lunar forces in the earthly realm. There
is a definite connection between the Moon and the water in the Earth.
Let us therefore assume that there have just been rainy days and that
these are followed by a full Moon. In deed and in truth, with the
forces that come from the Moon on days of the full Moon, something
colossal is taking place on Earth. These forces spring up and shoot
into all the growth of plants, but they are unable to do so unless
rainy days have gone before.
We shall therefore
have to consider the question: Is it not of some significance,
whether we sow the seed in a certain relation to the rainfall and the
subsequent light of the full Moon, or whether we sow it thoughtlessly
at any time? Something, no doubt, will come of it even then.
Nevertheless, we have to raise this question: How should we best
consider the rainfall and the full Moon in choosing the time to sow
the seed? For in certain plants, what the full Moon has to do will
thrive intensely after rainy days and will take place but feebly and
sparingly after days of sunshine. Such things lay hidden in the old
farmers' rules; they quoted a certain verse or proverb and knew what
they must do. The proverbs to-day are outworn superstitions, and a
science of these things does not yet exist; people are not yet
willing enough to set to work and find it.
Furthermore, around
our Earth is the atmosphere. Now the atmosphere above all —
beside the obvious fact that it is airy — has the peculiarity
that it is sometimes warmer, sometimes cooler. At certain times it
shows a considerable accumulation of warmth, which, when the tension
grows too strong, may even find relief in thunderstorms. How
is it then with the warmth? Spiritual observation shows that
whereas the water has no relation to silica, this warmth has
an exceedingly strong relation to it.
The warmth brings out
and makes effective precisely those forces which can work through the
silicious nature, namely, the forces that proceed from Saturn,
Jupiter and Mars. These forces must be regarded in quite a different
way than the forces from the Moon. For we must not forget that Saturn
takes thirty years to revolve round the Sun, whereas the Moon with
its phases takes only thirty or twenty-eight days. Saturn is only
visible for fifteen years. It must therefore be connected with the
growth of plants in quite a different way, albeit, I need hardly say,
it is not only working when it shines down upon the Earth; it is also
effective when its rays have to pass upward through the Earth.
Saturn goes slowly
round, in thirty years. Let us draw it thus (Diagram 1): here is the course of Saturn. Sometimes
it shines directly on to a given spot of the Earth. But it can also
work through the Earth upon this portion of the Earth's
surface. In either case the intensity with which the Saturn-forces
are able to approach the plant life of the Earth is dependent on the
warmth-conditions of the air. When the air is cold, they cannot
approach; when the air is warm, they can.
And where do we see
the working of these forces in the plant's life? We see it, not so
much where annual plants arise, coming and going in a season and only
leaving seeds behind. We see what Saturn does with the help of the
warmth-forces of our Earth, whenever the perennial plants arise. The
effects of these forces, which pass into the plant-nature via the
warmth, are visible to us in the rind and bark of trees, and in all
that makes the plants, perennial. This is due to the simple fact that
the annual life of the plant — its limitation to a short length
of life — is connected with those planets whose period of
revolution is short. That, on the other hand, which frees itself from
the transitory nature — that which surrounds the trees with
bark and rind, and makes them permanent — is connected with the
planetary forces which work via the forces of warmth and cold and
have a long period of revolution, as in the case of Saturn: thirty
years; or Jupiter: twelve years.
If someone wishes to
plant an oak, it is of no little importance whether or no he has a
good knowledge of the periods of Mars; for an oak, rightly planted in
the proper Mars-period, will thrive differently from one that is
planted in the Earth thoughtlessly, just when it happens to suit.
Or, if you wish to
plant coniferous forests, where the Saturn-forces play so great a
part, the result will be different if you plant the forest in a
so-called ascending period of Saturn, or in some other Saturn period.
One who understands can tell precisely, from the things that will
grow or will not grow, whether or no they have been planted with an
understanding of the connections of these forces. That which does not
appear obvious to the external eye, appears very clearly, none the
less, in the more intimate relationships of life.
Assume for instance
that we take, as firewood, wood that is derived from trees which were
planted in the Earth without understanding of the cosmic
rhythms. It will not provide the same health-giving warmth as
firewood from trees that were planted intelligently. These things
enter especially into the more intimate relationships of daily life,
and here they show their great significance. Alas! the life of people
has become almost entirely thoughtless nowadays. They are only too
glad if they do not need to think of such things. They think it must
all go on just like any machine. You have all the necessary
contrivances; turn on the switch, and it goes. So do they conceive,
materialistically, the working of all Nature.
Along these lines we
are eventually led to the most alarming results in practical life.
Then the great riddles arise. Why, for example, is it impossible
to-day to eat such potatoes as I ate in my youth? It is so; I have
tried it everywhere. Not even in the country districts where I ate
them then, can one now eat such potatoes. Many things have declined
in their inherent food-values, notably during the last decades.
The more intimate
influences which are at work in the whole Universe are no longer
understood. These must be looked for again along such lines as I have
hinted at to-day. I have only introduced the subject; I have only
tried to show where the questions arise — questions which go far
beyond the customary points of view. We shall continue and go deeper
in this way, and then apply, what we have found, in practice.
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Figure 1
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