Time travel was once considered scientific heresy, and I used to

The words of Stephen Hawking, the great mind who gazed into the fabric of the cosmos, carry both humility and daring: “Time travel was once considered scientific heresy, and I used to avoid talking about it for fear of being labelled a ‘crank.’” In this confession lies a truth that spans the ages—that every great leap forward in thought first appears as madness, that the most daring visions are often branded as folly before they are crowned as wisdom.

From the ancient days, bold thinkers have always walked a narrow road between genius and ridicule. The philosopher Socrates was condemned for corrupting the youth of Athens, though he was only teaching them to question. The astronomer Galileo was branded a heretic for declaring that the Earth moved around the Sun, a truth we now accept as simple fact. In the same way, Hawking recalls that to speak of time travel was once to risk exile from the fellowship of reason, to be dismissed as a dreamer chasing shadows.

The meaning of the quote is therefore not confined to science alone, but reveals the eternal struggle of innovation. That which is unimagined is always feared. To suggest that time—the very river upon which all existence flows—might be bent or traversed was to shatter the rigid beliefs of the scientific order. And yet, it is precisely those who dare to ask such questions who extend the boundaries of human knowledge. Hawking himself became one of those daring few, moving from silence to courage, from fear of mockery to bold proclamation.

Consider the tale of Christopher Columbus, who declared that one could sail westward to reach the East. Many dismissed him, some mocked him, others feared he would fall off the edge of the world. And though his journey brought consequences both noble and tragic, it proved that daring visions, once dismissed, could reshape the entire destiny of nations. So too with Hawking: by daring to speak of time travel, he opened the imagination of millions, and inspired both scientists and dreamers to look beyond the limits of the present.

Yet the lesson goes deeper still. Hawking reminds us that even the greatest minds feel the weight of judgment, that even those destined to change the world must sometimes endure silence out of caution. But in time, silence must give way to voice. The seed of truth cannot remain buried forever—it presses upward, breaking the soil of convention, seeking the light. What was once called heresy becomes revelation, and what was once called foolishness becomes foundation.

The teaching for us is clear: do not fear being called a crank when your vision is honest, when your pursuit is rooted in curiosity and truth. Every new path begins in shadow, every new discovery begins as an outcast. If you silence yourself for fear of ridicule, the world may never inherit the gifts only you can bring. Speak, question, explore—even if others laugh—for laughter fades, but truth endures.

Thus, let Hawking’s words be remembered as both warning and encouragement. The greatest revolutions of thought were once whispers in the dark, mocked as impossible. Stand firm in the face of doubt, for today’s heresy may be tomorrow’s wisdom. And above all, let your courage outlast your fear, so that you may, like Hawking, lead humanity one step closer to the eternal mysteries of the universe.