Well, my wife always says to me, and I think it's true, it's very

In the eternal flow of time, there exists a truth about the nature of human perception and the limitations of our understanding. Mark Rylance, in his reflection on the difficulty of understanding the Elizabethan worldview, states, "Well, my wife always says to me, and I think it's true, it's very difficult for us to understand the Elizabethan understanding and enjoyment and perception of form as it is to say... it would be for them to understand computers or going to the moon or something." These words touch upon the boundaries of human comprehension—how what is familiar to one generation may seem incomprehensible to another. What Rylance suggests is that the lens through which we view the world is shaped by the era in which we live, and as we advance, we move further from the understanding of those who came before us, just as the Elizabethans could not have fathomed the intricacies of our modern world.

To grasp the depth of Rylance’s observation, we must look back to the ancient world, where ideas were often shaped by the culture and philosophies of the time. The Greeks, for example, had a profound understanding of form in both art and philosophy. The concept of beauty in the classical world was rooted in the ideal form—a perfect, timeless version of reality that transcended the imperfections of the physical world. Plato, in his dialogues, spoke of the Theory of Forms, suggesting that the material world we perceive is but a shadow of the true essence of things. In this way, the Elizabethans, much like the Greeks, viewed form in terms of an idealized structure that gave meaning and beauty to life. But for us, with our modern understanding of science and technology, these ancient notions can feel distant and difficult to grasp fully.

Consider the example of Archimedes, the ancient Greek mathematician, who was revered for his deep understanding of mathematical form and the natural world. In his time, the study of geometry and mechanics represented an attempt to understand the underlying principles of existence. Today, we stand on the shoulders of such thinkers, with our understanding of physics and computers far beyond their wildest dreams. Yet, the fundamental truth remains: we, like Archimedes, are limited by the perceptions of our own time. Just as Rylance reflects on the difficulty we have in understanding Elizabethan form, we too would struggle to fully comprehend the mindset of those who lived in ages past, for their worldview was shaped by entirely different experiences and assumptions.

The Elizabethans, during the time of Shakespeare, viewed form in a way that was intimately tied to their social structures, their beliefs in the divine, and their cultural rituals. Their understanding of language, art, and theatre was deeply connected to the symbolism of the time, with an emphasis on order, beauty, and the balance of the natural world. The great plays of Shakespeare, for instance, reveal an intricate understanding of human emotion and morality, presented through carefully crafted structures—form—that were deeply resonant with the audience of that time. Yet, if we were to ask an Elizabethan about our modern technologies—computers, space travel, or digital realities—their minds would find these ideas as alien as we find their artistic forms.

In the Renaissance, we begin to see a shift in human understanding, as thinkers like Leonardo da Vinci bridged the gap between the artistic and the scientific. Da Vinci’s sketches of flying machines and anatomical studies reveal that even in an era of great beauty and creativity, the mind was beginning to yearn for a more rational, mechanical understanding of the world. Leonardo sought to understand the world not only through art but through systems and structures—a precursor to our modern, scientific age. However, the full realization of his ideas, just like the Elizabethans’ understanding of form, was limited by the tools and knowledge of his time. Rylance’s statement speaks to this timeless struggle: as we move forward, the tools we possess shape how we view the world, and just as Leonardo could not conceive of the computers of today, we cannot fully grasp the Elizabethan view of art and beauty.

The wisdom embedded in Rylance’s words invites us to reflect on our own era and the limits of our perception. As we look to the future, we may find that the technologies we are now developing—such as artificial intelligence and space exploration—will one day seem as distant and unfathomable to future generations as the Elizabethan age seems to us. Just as the ancients saw form as a fundamental principle of reality, we too are shaping our own ideas of progress, technology, and truth. And yet, just as the Elizabethans could not have fully understood the world of computers, we must come to terms with the reality that we, too, are limited by the boundaries of our time and understanding.

The lesson that Rylance offers is one of humility. As we strive for advancement, we must remember that the tools of today—whether they are computers, AI, or space exploration—are products of their time, just as Shakespeare’s plays were products of his. We are each shaped by the context in which we live, and the knowledge we create today will one day be seen through the lens of future generations, who will shape their own ideas and perceptions. Let us, therefore, honor the wisdom of those who came before us, recognizing that, just as they could not fully understand our world, we must strive to understand theirs. In this mutual recognition of human limitations and potential, we find the true path forward—one that balances progress with respect for the past, and understanding for the ever-changing nature of human knowledge.