Biodynamic Alchemy: Old Sun, New Earth

Originally published 2025-10-30. By Stewart Kahn Lundy, JPI Biodynamics.

Visit the Interior of the Earth

“You cannot deal with man through logic alone, but through an understanding that can only be reached when intellect shall see the world as a work of art.” - R Steiner, Man as Symphony of the Creative Word

When you’re enjoying a bright autumnal day with blazing leaves and a cool sinking sun, what comes to your mind? Well, if what this scene brings to mind is the esoteric cosmology articulated by Rudolf Steiner in An Outline of Esoteric Science, you might actually be… me.

As we wrap up our CSA, such an experience isn’t exactly sought out, but often emerges from earlier impressions, like dormant seeds from dark soil. Often, I’d rather just sit and enjoy the dying light, but life frequently has other plans for me. I hadn’t read An Outline of Esoteric Science for years — and I can pretty confidently say I had no idea what I’d read back then. I had tried rereading it, but quickly gave up. What stayed with me was a sense of frustration and a lingering desire to grasp something just beyond my reach. You know when something’s on the tip of your tongue but you can’t quite articulate it? That is what reading Steiner can feel like: fumbling around and sometimes almost understanding. But that’s actually the point. If you imagine a “beach read,” which is a quick, easy, pleasant experience, Steiner is precisely the opposite: slow, difficult, and unrewarding. Who would want to put themselves through that?

An Outline of Esoteric Science was initially intended to be a final section of Steiner’s book Theosophy, but got a bit out of hand, so it was released separately; it should be read as a sort of arthouse “sequel” to Theosophy: sprawling, evocative, and makes you work for it.

Steiner’s introduction to Theosophy says it all:

“This book cannot be read the way people ordinarily read books in this day and age. In some respects, its readers will have to work their way through each page and even each single sentence the hard way. This was done deliberately; it is the only way this book can become what it is intended to be for the reader. Simply reading it through is as good as not reading it at all. The spiritual scientific truths it contains must be experienced; that is the only way they can be of value.”1

There’s no hand-holding with Steiner, particularly in Outline of Esoteric Science. He expects us to put on our big kid pants and try for ourselves. He inverts the standard esoteric programme by not giving you clear syllogisms or definitions but instead provoking an experience and by making you try and by so doing develop the very capacities (“organs”) intended. By merely trying enough, you have already succeeded, even if, cognitively, you still understand little to nothing about the book. For example, if you go to the gym and lift weights, you will build muscles because of the resistance their heaviness offers — and this is true whether or not you understand this fact and whether or not you understand the mechanisms at work in growing muscles!

If you can honestly say you understand An Outline of Esoteric Science, you’ll have to let me know what it means someday! I’d love to share notes. Steiner’s earlier work Theosophy, I thought I understood — somewhat. But what in the world is “Old Saturn” or “Old Sun” or “Old Moon”? Because of these abstruse terms, these weren’t like other tidy concepts that can easily be assimilated based on prior knowledge. I had no idea whatsoever what these terms meant, but their very cumbersome quality caused an “itch” in me — as if some invisible mosquito had bitten me. The “answer” only arrived after long wrestling while in the garden, and I began to see Steiner’s view of recapitulation as a way of “reverse engineering” the past. For me the key was a sprouting plant, which to this day unlocks many doors. In human embryology, we find all the stages of growth encapsulated in the evolution outside us. But as this works on one level, it works on many. It is a short step from here to realize that the seasons themselves recapitulate Steiner’s esoteric cosmology. And it would have to! — if he’s right.

Bear with me, and thank you for exploring this with me. What follows is how I imagine them. What I share is the fruits of more than a decade of wrestling with these ideas while farming — raising cattle, sheep, hogs, and running a small CSA. To me, my work at the Josephine Porter Institute is only as valuable as the insights my agricultural experience gives me. I can only give credit for understanding anything Steiner shares, not to reading it and rereading it — and I sure do that! — but to the epiphanies that almost always occur while in the garden, not at a desk.

What you get to hear from me in this form is the final accretion, a conclusion of long (and emotionally fraught) wrestling. What I finally end up writing down is usually the result of years of suppressing the urge to speak, during which the ideas germinate in darkness, gestate, and one day suddenly burst forth. As light takes years to reach the surface of the Sun, these words have spent long periods within the soul until, by their sheer power, they burst forth and demand to be heard. Right or wrong, this is another attempt, hopefully less fumbling. In another seven years, I am confident some finer points will need improvement. Every vision of the All is, at best, partial and provisional — though not untrue for being incomplete. But none of this is about being perfect, but about the continual striving to know ever more. Please entertain this as much as anything as an exercise or a glimpse “under the hood” at some of my thinking process. I practice thinking A and also not-A, and by thinking one and then the other, one can arrive at something that is neither, but is closer to the truth. As Steiner said, please don’t believe what I say, think what I say. Try to think of the universe in its own terms: in terms of the Sun, in terms of the Moon, in terms of spring and autumn, or, for example, the soul as a plant.

For today’s piece, we have to begin with the esoteric idea that fire and water are the two primary elements, and air and earth are secondary byproducts of of these. Similarly, there are two primary seasons in the year — summer and winter — and two transitional seasons. In summer, we have ripening fire, in winter, we have cold water, in autumn, we find the mineralized earthiness, and in spring, we have the exhalation of flowers, nectar, and steam. “[W]hen spring approaches […] everything begins to thrive in water.”2

Broadly speaking, when daylight is more than twelve hours, we start to feel the beginning of the approaching summer effects. Conversely, when days shorten to less than twelve hours, we begin to feel the approach of winter. Rudolf Steiner, by his own indications, says much the same about the moon: when it is more than half full, it is the “full moon,” and when it is less than half full, it is the “new moon.”3 When the sun lingers near the horizon (or never sets as in the far north), we have a protracted equinoctial influence.

In Steiner’s cosmology, the Earth and Moon were once united as a single primordial planetary body, one he describes as having a texture like “wood,” though for our purposes it is easier to imagine a molten state with grainy striations not unlike wood. One might imagine columns of slow-flowing basalt and come close to what this might have looked like once upon a time.

Much as the Moon once separated from the Earth, the Sun itself once had not fully differentiated from these two planetary bodies either. We can imagine a primordial Sun as a glowing nebula, but not yet warm enough to stimulate warmth from above. We can see an intimation of this in flowers that emerge during winter tend to point downward, attracted to the reflected residual warmth rising from the earth, so we have an image of this ancient union of Sun, Earth, and Moon. “As long as the sun was united with the earth-moon, the plants directed their blossoms toward the center of the globe; when the sun separated off they oriented themselves in accordance with it and directed their flowers heavenward.”4

Furthermore, according to Steiner, the ripening power of the summer sun moves underground. This might sound cryptic, but consider how during winter plants grow their roots in the most pronounced way, while leaves are stunted in most plants by the cold air. As plants live in the dark more than in the light during winter, the part of them naturally suited to the dark grows most: the root. Not only this, but plants accumulate sugars, which help prevent freezing; as a result, winter carrots and beets are much sweeter than summer beets. Steiner’s words merely confirm this natural phenomenon:

“The sun’s influence upon the earth is in fact not only present when the sun is shining directly on to the earth. I have often drawn attention to the fact that in winter peasants put their potatoes into the earth, cover them with earth, because what comes towards the earth during summer as the sun’s warmth and the power of the sunlight, is, just during winter, within the earth. On the surface of the earth potatoes become frosted; they do not become frosted but remain really good potatoes if they are buried in a pit and covered with a layer of earth, because throughout the winter the activity of the sun is inside the earth. Throughout the whole winter we must look for the sun-activity of summer under the earth. In December, for example, at a certain depth within the earth, we have the July-activity of the sun. In July the sun radiates its light and warmth on to the surface. The warmth and light gradually penetrate deeper. And if in December we wish to look for what we experience in July on the surface of the earth, we must dig a pit, and then what was on the surface of the earth in July will be found in December at a certain depth within it. There the potato is buried in the July sun. Thus the sun is not only where crude materialistic understanding looks for it; the sun is actually present in many spheres. Only this is strictly regulated according to the seasons of the year in the cosmos.”5

Eugen and Lily Kolisko’s work in Agriculture of the Tomorrow demonstrated the surprising possibility of growing ripe tomatoes below ground during winter. Perhaps someone will take this up at some point: an untapped biodynamic potential for growing vine-ripened tomatoes in winter within the earth in sunken greenhouses. The ripening effects of the summer Sun really do move inside the Earth in winter.

But it is not only the Sun and Moon that go within the Earth in winter. We must also consider Mercury, who never strays far from the Sun, to have moved into the Earth near the time of the reunion of the Sun with the Earth — sometimes just after the Sun and sometimes just before the Sun. Similarly, Venus, whose orbit is wider but not entirely dissimilar. This is part of why the herbs of Venus and Mercury can be confused, not to mention that Steiner (like Blavatsky before him) describes how in western astrology these planet names got switched at one point, making Venus an “occult Mercury” and vice versa. It is as if Mercury is the prodigal partner of Venus stolen by the greater gravitational force of our Sun.

In Steiner’s seven life processes, Mercury and Venus are the powers of maintenance and growth, respectively. As Steiner describes reproduction (Moon) as an “enhanced form of growth,” it is easy to see how these three inner planetary forces belong together. When reproduction ceases in autumn, the Sun is likely already reuniting with the Earth. When growth and maintenance pause, Venus and Mercury are also rejoining the Earth. When Venus withdraws, we see unveiled her cosmic partner: the fiery colors of Mars in autumn leaves. In autumn, Mars and Venus, so to speak, part ways much as Persephone is drawn back down into Hades every autumntide. Venus may precede the Sun as the morning star, meaning visible growth can emerge before the Sun has managed to separate from the Earth. Other times, growth may lag behind the Sun in a warm autumn, where “Venus” behaves like the evening star.

The direction that flowers face depends on the location of the Sun. Sunflowers are the easiest example, Girasola (lit. sun-turning). The floral or metabolic aspects of a plant are usually the warmest part of the plant. Perhaps it is not without coincidence that Steiner identifies Jupiter as “warming” in his seven life processes. Some plants retain an inner warming atmosphere below ground; for example, with garlic, we deliberately inhibit flowering above by removing scapes that would otherwise flower and produce smaller garlic cloves. When the floral aspect is inhibited, the root (or “head”) is augmented. But this extends to the metabolic-floral impulse as a whole: flowers in each season point towards the present activity of the Sun as they experience it, whether above ground (dandelions), coarsing across the heights of the sky in summer (sunflowers), on the horizon nearing the equinox (daffodils), or within the earth (snowdrops), among many other possible examples. The direction in which flowers point tells you where the plant experiences the presence of the Sun.

Where is Saturn in all this? In Man as Symphony of the Creative Word, Steiner describes “Saturn” as being active in “warm air,” so anywhere the air remains warm and residual growth is possible, even when residual warm air inside the earth is stored up from summer. Jupiter’s activities can be seen much of the year, particularly in budding flowers and the inner atmosphere of fruits which ripen by the sun, and Saturn’s “warm air” dynamics become edible. It’s not a coincidence that evergreens are considered to be “governed” by Saturn: not only do they retain an inner warmth stronger than deciduous trees, but they maintain a warmer microclimate under their canopies in winter. In winter, we can say that the dynamics of Saturn active in “warm air” are not at work above the ground, but are at work below working upwards. In Steiner’s words, “Saturn is not only active when it is shining down on the Earth, it is also active when its rays have to pass from below, as it were, through the Earth.”6

In late winter, we can feel the incremental approach of the summer sun. It is the Sun that first separates out from the Earth-Moon-Sun, so you have the Sun rising overhead, and the Earth-Moon in the form of saturated Earth. In some plants, such as cabbage, when it is cold enough, they only grow horizontal leaves, preferring the reflected warmth on the soil to the chilly air — these too tell you where the Sun’s activity is located at that time. As the Sun’s separation increases, the Moon begins its own separation from the Earth, which we witness as the soil exhaling steam. We must learn to see the rising patterns of fog emerging from the land, stimulated to dancing forms by the Sun, as the growth forces of the Moon. Fog, left to itself, unfolds horizontally, but stimulated by the Sun rises into ephemeral plantlike forms: “Were only the etheric body to work, then the plant would unfold endlessly leaf by leaf; this is brought to a conclusion by the astral body. The etheric body is muted by the astral.”7

All of this is relative to each given region. In the tropics, the Sun remains almost entirely separate from the Earth. In the subtropics, the Sun joins the Earth only briefly during the short winters. And if it is a warm winter, Venus and Mercury may never fully submerge, meaning plants continue to grow, consume organic matter, and exhale water, depleting the soil’s reserves for the rest of the growing season. In polar climes, the Sun remains within the Earth with the Moon for extended periods. One need only imagine some of the tremendously large contest-winning produce that can be grown in places like Alaska to see how much of this reunion force can be built up within the Earth in northern regions.

In each case, when the Sun rises high overhead (“separating” from the Earth), the Earth element then encapsulates this emerging growth power in physical forms of sense-perceptible plants stimulated by the separation of the Sun and the teasing out of the Moon’s moisture. In the tropics, this is always happening; in temperate zones, only periodically. But it is those exceptional plants with downward-facing flowers in the cold months that stand out. These flowers are not typical for our time, but are vestiges of an “out of date” (atavistic) solar system configuration; as such, they tend to be poisonous. By contrast, instead of flowers that droop towards the earth, in the tropics we see vibrant floral colors express themselves prematurely in the leaf and stem — these, too, tend to be poisonous (e.g, poinsettias, as one example among many). But this doesn't mean they should be dismissed entirely. On the contrary, as Paracelsus famously said, “The dose is the poison.” Here we have a polarity, and a wise physician would know how to use these. The knowledge of healing is also the knowledge of poisoning — the only difference is that the practitioner’s goodwill which separates one from the other.

So, where do we find Moon-saturated, earthy humus experiencing the ripening power of the summer sun when maybe we live somewhere that has no winter? The answer is so obvious it's hard to see! A thermophilic hot compost pile. If there is no winter, horns should be buried in a compost pile where Earth-Moon-Sun cohobate there happily. Here, it is worth pausing to realize that the only reason the alchemy of “spagyrics” works is because it is always already happening in nature, and we merely emulate this dynamic for our own purposes. There is nothing new under the Sun. Everything we do in biodynamics merely embodies what already exists in discarnate forms.

What Steiner sees everywhere is a recapitulation of the past, albeit in new versions — always with vestiges of earlier stages, much like we have the vestigial organ of the appendix. The past is never gone; it is only rearranged.

In autumn, we experience a kind of decline, a sinking movement of the sun. In ancient times, what later became Easter rituals were celebrated in autumn as a conscious reminder that the Sun would rise again and not sink forever below the horizon! As with anything that requires forward momentum, it must regress momentarily. In terms of spiritual development, this is a cycle of descending to ascend. Each new gift we receive is a test: will we cling to it, squander it selfishly, or leverage it for the good of others? This is not a metaphorical “regression” but a real regression. When we make 500 horn manure in winter, we have Earthy substance in the manure buried during the Moon-saturated time of the year when the ripening power of the summer Sun moves into the Earth. What happens here? A cow is “all digestion”8 and, as a result, her manure is the photonegative of this, being “all head” or I-forces.

In autumn, the Sun recedes into the Earth. The first thing we notice is leaves turning color in the cooling air. The “moon” has the opportunity to withdraw into the earth as the Sun returns to spend more than half of each day in darkness: growth ceases for most plants, and greenery turns into brilliant autumn colors. Only finally do the colorful leaves, expressive of earthy minerality, return to the ground. In the shortening days and cooling air, we see the Sun rejoining the earth. In the brilliant colors of the fall leaves, we see the Moon receding back into the Earth. And here in these reds and golds, we glimpse the meaning of Steiner’s claim that “The Earth is both Mars and Mercury.”9 Physical forms contain rusty minerality and mercurial juices.

Only finally do these expressed physical forms fall to the ground. During winter, the limited daylight tends to cause the earth to absorb water and humus because evaporation is restricted, and growth that would consume organic matter is significantly inhibited (“chill hours”). When the Sun stays low enough long enough, plants send more of their energy into their roots, including in the “liquid carbon pathway” of which Dr. Christine Jones speaks — sending carbon downward as sugar nectar for the Earth.

Sometimes the recapitulation of the union of the Earth and Moon is excessive, such as “a wet winter followed by a wet spring,”10 where the Moon fails to leave the Earth enough. Other times, there is a dry winter when the “Moon” fails to fully reunite with the Earth, which does not bode well for productivity in the coming year. These may be variations in weather or typical differences of specific bioregions. If we did not have any gifts from the past in the form of organic matter, plants would enter impoverished soil and grow like children without any wisdom imparted from their elders. While plants (and humans) can technically figure many things out themselves the hard way, they tend to perform better with “inherited wisdom” from previous mother plants.

Steiner once said cryptically that “rain is merely the absence of the Sun.” When he speaks of planets, he means their typical activities, not what we see in the sky as physical planets. Rain is when the evaporative power of the Sun is eclipsed, and rain falls back to Earth. The arrival of winter rains or snow is the “absence” of the dynamics of the Summer sun in the sky, and rain is the demonstrable return of cosmically distilled water, or “Moon,” back into the Earth. In alchemy, this is the entire process of distillation and condensation — the separation and reunion of Sun and Moon.

By contrast, 501 horn silica is buried over summer into autumn, when the Sun, Moon, and Earth are at their most separated, most differentiated. 500 horn manure supplies a fertile chaos that can grow into expression, 501 horn silica provides the impetus for the crystallization of distinguished forms.

Part of the purpose of 500 horn manure is to contain and “ripen” humus within the soil during winter while the Earth and Sun and Moon (one could almost as easily say salt, sulfur, and mercury) are together: organic materials from last year in the Earth, growth forces and water held back within the Earth, and the ripening power of the summer Sun at work inside the Earth. In the horn manure, we have Earth-Moon-Sun together in undifferentiated form11, as raw life potential to begin to be actualized as needed by the plant’s original instructions in growth: root, leaf, and flower. By itself, horn manure is not enough (compost is still required for fullest expression). Still, it is enough to ensure the plant receives this special impulse from undifferentiated Earth-Moon-Sun — a memory of the past. Why is this important for plant life? Because evolution is never surgical or mechanical, a vestige of the past must be preserved (or, when needed, restored) for life to thrive.

“When the Earth begins to recapitulate high previous phases of its evolution, there will first be a re-union with the Moon, and then of this Earth-Moon with the Sun. The re-union with the Moon will mark the culminating point of evil on the Earth the re-union with the Sun will signify, on the other hand, the advent of happiness, the reign of the ‘elect.’”12

The “re-union with the Moon” begins during Michaelmas, when the battle of Michael and the dragon is recapitulated. By legend, Satan is cast down from heaven by Michael and falls to earth, landing on a blackberry bush that scorches its leaves, turning them their characteristic burnt red color. Because of this, the feast of Michaelmas is the last date to eat blackberry pie, a hint at the poison working within at that time, the “culminating point of evil.”

What dragons do we summon? And can we compost them beautifully?

“Human souls must be strong enough to bring good out of evil by a process of spiritual alchemy.”13