Blaise Pascal had a toothache. Bad for him; good for math. Suffice it to say that during his short life (1623-1662) dentistry was not the medical science and practice that it is today. When people in the seventeenth century had toothaches, they didn’t have the recourse that we do. They suffered. And that’s what happened to Blaise. The guy had a really bad toothache and no adequate dentist to help him. What’s a genius to do? Well, Blaise, to stop thinking about the pain in his mouth, started to fool around with math, accomplishing much during 1658 and 1659.
Not that Blaise had been blasé about math: He was a prodigy, discovering, for example, his famous Pascal Triangle at age 13 and Pascal’s Theorem by age 17. But Blaise did become blasé about math when his carriage almost fell from a bridge. The near-death experience forced him to think about life and life after death. Blaise devoted himself to matters of religion after that near accident and largely abandoned mathematical studies, except for the two-year period after the toothache. It was during that time that he produced a work that inspired Leibnitz to invent his calculus.
What might have happened if Blaise had good local dentists? What might not have happened if Blaise had fluoride toothpaste and an electric toothbrush to prevent tooth decay? Would Leibnitz never have constructed his calculus? A two-year period of brilliance and an entire mathematical scheme initiated by a toothache!
During the last and the current centuries medical scientists have worked to make us pain free. That’s a gain for us, of course. But maybe a little discomfort now and then might unsettle us and inspire us. Maybe the harshness of life is a catalyst in the presence of which brain and inspiration react, and we become creative, if only to distract us from discomfort. What’s that line the fitness gurus often use? No pain, no gain.
Certainly, seeking pain in no way guarantees creativity, and Pascal seems to have demonstrated that after his two-year period of discovery. As a deeply religious person, he returned to contemplating things theological after 1659, and he became more ascetic. He would punish himself for impiety by wearing a belt with nails that he would push into his skin with his elbows. During that period of self-imposed pain he abandoned math as he had after the near accident.
You don’t have to seek discomfort to be creative, but you also don’t have to think that a period of discomfort is a time for self-absorption and pity. You might enter into your most creative period when harsh circumstances arise. Remember that this is not your practice life. All of it. Even the tough times and painful circumstances. Your period of brilliance is as close as your next toothache, paper cut, or debilitating disease, but your period of brilliance can also last a lifetime. Don’t become blasé like Blaise.
Not that Blaise had been blasé about math: He was a prodigy, discovering, for example, his famous Pascal Triangle at age 13 and Pascal’s Theorem by age 17. But Blaise did become blasé about math when his carriage almost fell from a bridge. The near-death experience forced him to think about life and life after death. Blaise devoted himself to matters of religion after that near accident and largely abandoned mathematical studies, except for the two-year period after the toothache. It was during that time that he produced a work that inspired Leibnitz to invent his calculus.
What might have happened if Blaise had good local dentists? What might not have happened if Blaise had fluoride toothpaste and an electric toothbrush to prevent tooth decay? Would Leibnitz never have constructed his calculus? A two-year period of brilliance and an entire mathematical scheme initiated by a toothache!
During the last and the current centuries medical scientists have worked to make us pain free. That’s a gain for us, of course. But maybe a little discomfort now and then might unsettle us and inspire us. Maybe the harshness of life is a catalyst in the presence of which brain and inspiration react, and we become creative, if only to distract us from discomfort. What’s that line the fitness gurus often use? No pain, no gain.
Certainly, seeking pain in no way guarantees creativity, and Pascal seems to have demonstrated that after his two-year period of discovery. As a deeply religious person, he returned to contemplating things theological after 1659, and he became more ascetic. He would punish himself for impiety by wearing a belt with nails that he would push into his skin with his elbows. During that period of self-imposed pain he abandoned math as he had after the near accident.
You don’t have to seek discomfort to be creative, but you also don’t have to think that a period of discomfort is a time for self-absorption and pity. You might enter into your most creative period when harsh circumstances arise. Remember that this is not your practice life. All of it. Even the tough times and painful circumstances. Your period of brilliance is as close as your next toothache, paper cut, or debilitating disease, but your period of brilliance can also last a lifetime. Don’t become blasé like Blaise.
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