Hawking: An “Inside” View
“Through our eyes, the universe is perceiving itself. Through our ears, the universe is listening to its harmonies. We are the witnesses through which the universe becomes conscious of its glory, of its magnificence.” — Alan Watts
Didn’t know Stephen Hawking any better than most of you. But he fascinated me more for who he apparently was than all the things he discovered.
He became, for me, an example of the magnificence of which Watt speaks. Having been forced to transcend a body that refused to obey or more than marginally support him physically, he lived, nonetheless, a life far richer and more significant than anyone could have imagined when the illness initially struck.
Held still, he could see and hear and ponder the whole of the universe, I think, more intensely than the rest of us. And he had to trust it, too, more than we do.
And held there in that body — not imprisoned, held — he watched and pondered and then came back and told us how everything “worked.”
Yes, he was surrounded by help and revered by millions. But even that, I suppose, was probably fascinating to him on levels we could never understand as well. “Who are these people?” is another question he would ask and answer in ways that we might not have the time or intellect to get to.
I would love to have heard him explain us on all those wonderful levels. Himself, included, though a miracle like Hawking himself might defy explanation even by Hawking himself.
Of course, he would not care for that last sentence. It was math. All math, to him.
To me, however, it was more than math. For me, he became miraculous just by living as he did. And doing what he did. Explaining the universe as most could not perhaps precisely because of the singular way he, himself, experienced it. Using the prodigious gift he was given as a key to unlock it.
It is as if he’d been chosen to take that particular journey, via that particular and peculiar “vehicle” in which he was encapsulated for so long.
There is a song about him, written and performed — with great passion, usually — by Todd Rundgren, that always seemed to say everything I wanted to say about him. Which are:
Whenever I
I close my eyes
Then I don’t mind being the way I am
But whenever I try
Explaining why
I know I never can
Now that it’s
Gone, paths I used to travel
Gone, things I used to handle
Gone, once I had a choice what to be
But then god kissed me
And I lost it when I fainted in his arms
Have pity on me brother
I’m trapped behind the mirror
I’m out here on the border
Wondering why
Why was it I?
Maybe my mind wouldn’t have come this way
If I’d taken my time
Answers only unwind
When you can’t look away
Maybe ‘cause
I want the secret broken
I want the casket open
I need to see what no eyes can see
And when god kissed me
Then I dreamed them when I fainted in her arms
Now I’ve got to go on sleeping
Lean in a little closer
And I’ll tell you what I’m dreaming
I’ll tell you what I’m dreaming
I see time without beginning
Space without an ending
I see bodies strong and running
With minds not comprehending
Have pity on your brother
Please have pity on your sister
Take pity on each other
And on every living creature
Whenever I
Open my eyes
I can’t believe it’s real
It’s a jungle outside
People just survive
They can’t reach the high ideal
But I
Know if I can’t recover, at least I
Know, I know the book from cover to cover, and who
Knows, I might dream forever
Since I’ve met the world’s greatest lover
When god kissed me
And I knew it when I fainted in his arms
Let’s dream together people…”
There it is:
Maybe my mind wouldn’t have come this way
If I’d taken my time
Answers only unwind
When you can’t look away
Yes. I think that, too.
I also really do think God kissed him. And a few hours ago, he fell into Her arms once and for all.
From there, he will see some of the things he calculated in actual action. I imagine him smiling as he did the time he got a chance to float up out of that chair in one of those “zero gravity” planes a few years ago.
Pure joy, on that face.
Float on, Stephen.
