The Twelve Senses in the World of Nature

“Further Resources” at the end of the article.  Alternatively, information is readily available by entering an internet search via “12 senses”  – and adding “Rudolf Steiner” can be helpful):

Touch.

The longer I touch the snow and ice here, the number grows this sense.  Then, in turns, it is awakened by prickle of conifer needle, rasped by bark, or caressed by the soft feel of usnea moss.  Whatever the sensate experience of touch, I have to admit that it defines my separation, the self’s bounds, or at least the physical body’s self-bounding. I do touch nature with this sense, but only her outermost surface, a Braille of rebuff, no entry past the outermost edge.  As we continue down this list, we enter, increasingly, into the inner nature of things.  But the sense of touch is the most external.

For example, when the wind gusts across my face, my sense of touch feels the impact of that gust, but my sense of temperature registers how cool or warm it is.

A manatee, with more brain space dedicated to touch than any other mammal, has a long-distance sense of touch.  Whisker like hairs all over its body act as sensors, so that it can, in effect, “touch” from a distance.

Life.

After a long day of snow-shoeing my sense of life feels drained, very low in energy/chi, even despite practicing energy-enhancing Qi-gong along the way (I’m not by any means a master in the art yet).

Overall, as I undertake this trek, my sense of life is both enhanced and exhausted.  My constitutional energy is put to the test, the body forces are working at their limit. However, the etheric energy of the forest is so resplendent that there is a constant

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