Before 1915, space and time were thought of as a fixed arena in

Hear, O seekers of wisdom, the voice of Stephen Hawking, who gazed into the depths of the cosmos and unveiled mysteries once hidden: “Before 1915, space and time were thought of as a fixed arena in which events took place, but which was not affected by what happened in it. Space and time are now dynamic quantities... space and time not only affect but are also affected by everything that happens in the universe.” In these words lies a revolution of thought, a turning of the heavens themselves, for Hawking recalls the moment when humanity’s understanding of reality was forever changed by Einstein’s theory of relativity.

The meaning of this proclamation is mighty. For ages, men believed space and time to be eternal stages, unchanging backdrops upon which the dramas of stars and mortals were played. They were thought to be passive, unmoved, as the universe unfolded upon them. But then came the revelation of relativity: that space bends, that time stretches, that the fabric of the cosmos itself is not rigid but alive. The universe, Hawking reminds us, is not a theater, but a participant in the great play of existence.

The origin of this wisdom is the year 1915, when Albert Einstein presented his general theory of relativity. With it, the old Newtonian view of absolute space and time crumbled, and a new vision was born: one where gravity was no longer an invisible force pulling at a distance, but the warping of space-time itself by mass and energy. The sun does not simply hold the planets by invisible chains—it bends the very stage they move upon, curving the fabric of space so that the Earth follows its path like a traveler upon a bent road. Thus the cosmos became not static, but dynamic, responsive, alive.

History offers us a story to illuminate this great shift. In 1919, during a solar eclipse, Sir Arthur Eddington led an expedition to measure the bending of starlight around the sun. The results confirmed Einstein’s prediction: space-time itself had curved, and the light of distant stars had bowed in reverence to its weight. In that moment, humanity beheld proof that the very arena of existence could be shaped and altered by what occurred within it. The eternal stage had been shattered; the cosmos was revealed as a fabric, pliant and majestic.

Yet beyond science, there lies a deeper lesson for the soul. If even space and time, once thought unchanging, are malleable, then how much more must our own hearts and destinies be open to transformation. We too are not fixed, but woven into the great fabric of the universe. Just as stars bend light, and black holes warp time itself, so too do our actions ripple outward, affecting not only ourselves but the world around us. Hawking’s vision is more than science—it is a parable: that nothing stands apart, that all is connected, and that change is the law of existence.

The lesson, O listener, is thus: live with the awareness that you are not separate from the universe, but part of its living fabric. Your choices bend the destiny of others, your love or your cruelty shapes the paths of those near you, just as planets bend the paths of stars. Do not think of life as fixed or immovable, but as something dynamic, shifting with every breath, every thought, every act. The cosmos is not rigid—it is responsive, and so is the soul.

Therefore, in practice, let this knowledge inspire humility and wonder. When you look to the heavens, see not a cold machine, but a living, breathing universe that both shapes and is shaped. Let your life reflect the same truth: be open to transformation, be conscious of the ripples you cast into the world, and remember always that the stage upon which you act is not indifferent—it is alive with you. For as Hawking teaches, space and time are not the silence behind the play; they are woven into the drama itself, singing in harmony with the stars.