Pär Ahlbom He is a Swedish educator, musician, and long-time researcher of the connection between education, creativity, and inner development. He is the founder of Solvikskolan in Järna, Sweden, and the creator of the “Intuitive Pedagogy” approach, which emphasizes conscious presence, free play, and human connection as sources of learning. Over the past decades, Almbom has given lectures and trainings in various countries, inspiring educators and parents to rediscover the inner meaning of education.
We present a translation of one of his lectures, available online here
“Becoming a teacher is something very difficult and at the same time extremely important.
Becoming a teacher is something very difficult and at the same time extremely important.
Gathering insights is already difficult enough, and accepting and building upon them is even harder.
Today we are talking about a world that we usually do not know, do not see, and many people do not even hear. How could we truly understand it?
If I am already filled with my own thoughts, ideas, passions, memories, and images, then my soul, my inner space, is already full—perhaps even overflowing.
And when it is full, there is no room for anything new, spiritual, or entirely different.
Nothing new can enter what is already occupied.
The true other world can appear only when I make space, when I am able to let go and become empty inside.
It is like with a balloon: when the air inside expands, the pressure beneath it decreases, and it rises.
The same principle makes an airplane fly, because its wings are shaped so that air flows differently above and below them, creating lift.
In the same way, something within us can rise only when space is created and tension is released.
If silence arises within us and not much is happening inside, then something new can be born.
When Christ says, “You must become like children,” He means exactly this.
The Sermon on the Mount is full of such hints.
“Blessed are the poor in spirit” does not mean poor or lazy, but inwardly free and unburdened—those who are not full of themselves.
Only then can help, inspiration, or grace arrive.
If a person tries to live in this way, something may begin to come to them from the other side—though rarely and often unnoticed.
This is not communication in the usual sense, but rather a feeling that something else is beginning to enter.
This is what we call inspiration.
It is connected with “hearing the Word”.
Someone or something speaks, and suddenly I hear and understand.
But even this understanding must be let go again.
If I cling to it, I lose the possibility of receiving something new.
I must learn to lose what I have gained and become empty again.
In literature, this process is often described as trials of the soul.
There are many such examples in stories and operas, for instance in “The Magic Flute”, where these trials symbolize the inner path.
In the end, they mean learning to let go even of the most beautiful and elevated experiences, to release the highest insights we have reached.
This is extremely difficult.
It is not necessary for everyone, but it is a path that some choose.
Kierkegaard, whom I deeply respect, once said:
Ideals are dangerous, fragile things.
And this must be understood.
Everything human has two sides—one good and one limiting.
This is the essence of freedom.
Nothing is entirely good.
If we believe that something is only good, we are mistaken.
To free ourselves even from what is beautiful and exalted is a profound challenge.
The next level is intuition.
This is the state in which we become one with what we perceive, feel, or think—a complete merging.
And yet, this too is a kind of loss, because we dissolve into the experience.
This is often misunderstood.
Eastern philosophies speak beautifully about such unity, but in anthroposophy we strive to preserve the “I, the self” within it.
We must be careful not to suffocate this fragile “I,” which still has much future within us.
It is young, gentle, and vitally important.
By contrast, the body is ancient and the oldest part within us.
It carries something heavenly in its origin.
Just think—the heart has been beating, the breathing has been continuing for 82 years (in my case), without us controlling it.
There are people who can consciously control their heart, but they are usually seriously ill.
That is not health, but something that belongs to another world.
True inner work does not mean manipulating the body, but learning to listen and to be open.
When we receive inspiration, it already contains the message that we must not cling to it.
We pray, but often we do not understand what we are saying.
“I pray,” says the soul, “but I do not know what I want.”
My mouth speaks, and I feel that something else is speaking through me.
This is the mystery of inspiration.
Intuition goes even further.
It can manifest through a small gesture, a movement of the hand, a glance, or a silent action that later leads to something significant somewhere far away.
Intuition is always connected to the whole — to history, humanity, and the world.
It is never just personal.
When children play freely and innocently, they live in an intuitive world.
Not when they play by rules, but when they simply play.
Then they act from intuition naturally and effortlessly.
They shouldn’t be interrupted with “Not like that, do it differently,” because then it disappears.
The younger they are, the more strongly this intuitiveness shines.
We adults plan, label, and organize, which is useful, but often covers up intuition.
We need to learn to step back and create inner space.
Трябва да помним, че тялото е най-древното и носи живота, душата носи човешкото и емоционалното, а духът – мислещата и съзнателна част – все още е толкова малък, почти нищо, но именно той може да расте.
We must remember that the body is the oldest and carries life, the soul carries the human and emotional aspects, and the spirit—the thinking and conscious part—is still so small, almost nothing, yet it is precisely what can grow.
Life goes on, and the soul continues to strive.
There are also invisible, humble forces in the world—people who work quietly and selflessly, whose deeds may seem insignificant to history, yet it is they who sustain humanity.
They are a secret world power.
It’s not only Goethe or Einstein who have shaped the world—there are countless nameless souls who carry out quiet yet powerful work.
Intuition connects us with them as well.
It sparkles in our joy, in play, and in our openness.
That is why it is fully justified to say that a true school must also be a school of intuition.
We must develop this awareness not as something mystical, but as something deeply human.
