The death of Professor Stephen William Hawking on Wednesday in Cambridge, England, was met with a collective exclamation of reverence for perhaps the greatest bel-esprit (with apologies to Sir Isaac and Albert) to have ever cerebrated in regard to the cosmos, the issue of a space-time continuum, and, of course, the study of black holes.
While the world is quite aware of – yet generally at a loss to understand – the works of Hawking (e.g., Hawking radiation, entropy of black holes, elaborations on Einstein’s curvature of space-time, etc.), it has been through the permeation of global social media (along with cameo appearances on the Simpsons, Star Trek, The Big Bang Theory, etc.) that his likeness is readily recognizable and familiar.
And it is in fact this very likeness (i.e., a weak, frail, seemingly helpless physical entity scarcely capable of basic survival without direct assistance) that should be even more strongly considered in conjunction with – and in comparison to – his obviously enlightening theoretical perspectives in the realms of cosmology and astral physics.
How is it that a man who, as a result of the onset of amyotrophic lateral sclerosis in his early 20’s that progressively deteriorated his physical abilities to the point where he could control only his voluntary eye movements; some of his cheek muscles; the flexing of a single finger; could literally not even speak without technological supplementation; and was confined to a wheelchair for over 40 years, could somehow empower himself to venture around the world, float with astronauts, collaborate internationally with renowned physicists and mathematicians, and generally exceed even the most extremely optimistic prognostications from medical attendants?
That would be the basis for the “Hawking Paradox”: he simply willed himself into a state of desiderium that allowed for such activities and endeavors, and all with basically no semblance of implementation or application of the most rudimentary elements of physicality that most of us simply take for granted.
Hawking certainly pursued life in a manner that belied any description of him as “handicapped.” He visited every continent (including Antarctica); authored multiple books about his scientific works; was twice married and fathered three children; celebrated his 60th birthday by ascending into the troposphere in a hot-air balloon; fractured his leg when he was “speeding” and crashed his electric-powered wheelchair while rounding a corner; experienced fleeting periods of weightlessness in a specially-equipped Boeing 727 (ostensibly in preparation for a trip into space on Richard Branson’s Virgin Galactic Space Ship Two) at the age of 65; and seldom refused an opportunity to make an appearance on television or radio programs.
It was in these and other ways that Dr. Hawking “wanted to show that people need not be limited by physical handicaps as long as they are not disabled in spirit.”
Perhaps, as great as Hawking was as a physicist and the sheer vastitude of his veritable noetic contributions notwithstanding, it may well be that THIS relatively simplistic, yet axiomatic and aphoristic atticism could be of the greatest benefit to mankind. All we mere mortals need do at this point is just force ourselves to ponder its intrinsic value and perhaps actually facilitate and perpetuate its implementation while simultaneously avoiding any further garboil in relation to such.
