At the beginning of the seventeenth century Galileo introduced a new way of seeing heavenly bodies, and he also confirmed the Copernican model of the Solar System. About a half century before Galileo constructed a tube with lenses on either end, Gerolamo Fracastro (d. 1553) wrote, “For which reason those things which are seen at the bottom of water appear greater than those which are at the top; and if anyone look through two eye-glasses, one placed upon the other, he will see everything much larger and nearer.”*
How is it possible that Fracastro was blind to the potential of his knowledge? He seemed to have grasped the principle of two lenses acting in unison, but he never explained how to put the two together in a useful form. Didn’t he ever think of using the cylindrical cardboard doot-ta-doot inside a toilet paper or paper towel roll?* Hey, Gerolamo. Duh! Telescope. At least something to hold lenses steady, if not a telescoping tube.
I suspect that Galileo also didn’t have cardboard cylinders from a package of toilet paper rolls he obtained at Costco, and he could not claim to be the first to make a telescope. He developed and improved on the 1608 design by Hans Lippershey. Galileo, however, did something more than invent: He found a practical use that changed the way we see our world—and other worlds.**
It’s interesting how many of us have not seen the significance of our piecemeal insights: Fragments never turned into sentences; thoughts never turned into philosophies; bits of material never turned into inventions. We’ve all missed those opportunities. I guess I can’t fault Gerry Fracastro for failing to see a telescope in its parts.
Those little insights that spring upon you are very much like seeing an object magnified by water or chance alignments of glass. That’s the nature of our brains. Always active but mostly preoccupied, we don’t take time to fashion our insights and observations into some useful philosophy or invention. Then, later on, upon seeing someone’s else’s production, we say woefully, “Shoot! I thought about that, but….”
Maybe your un-invented inventions would exist if you had a mindset to pursue your little insights to their logical conclusion or to the fulfillment of their potential. If you marvel at how Fracastro failed to realize that he was on the verge of a new and useful instrument, you might telescope your amazement inward. Maybe those little insights of yours are also the first stages of a substantial philosophical or physical invention.
Your brain is already equipped with telescoping ability. Use it to magnify your insights, to see what others can’t see, and possibly to put together parts into wholes.
Who can tell? Your next invention might be as close as the nearest doot-ta-doot tube.
*For toddlers, the cardboard cylinder might be as important a musical instrument as an overturned pot and spoon.
**Not everyone, of course could see the value of seeing through a telescope. The Inquisition’s clergymen, blinded by adherence to a tradition, saw only what Ptolemy said they should see.
How is it possible that Fracastro was blind to the potential of his knowledge? He seemed to have grasped the principle of two lenses acting in unison, but he never explained how to put the two together in a useful form. Didn’t he ever think of using the cylindrical cardboard doot-ta-doot inside a toilet paper or paper towel roll?* Hey, Gerolamo. Duh! Telescope. At least something to hold lenses steady, if not a telescoping tube.
I suspect that Galileo also didn’t have cardboard cylinders from a package of toilet paper rolls he obtained at Costco, and he could not claim to be the first to make a telescope. He developed and improved on the 1608 design by Hans Lippershey. Galileo, however, did something more than invent: He found a practical use that changed the way we see our world—and other worlds.**
It’s interesting how many of us have not seen the significance of our piecemeal insights: Fragments never turned into sentences; thoughts never turned into philosophies; bits of material never turned into inventions. We’ve all missed those opportunities. I guess I can’t fault Gerry Fracastro for failing to see a telescope in its parts.
Those little insights that spring upon you are very much like seeing an object magnified by water or chance alignments of glass. That’s the nature of our brains. Always active but mostly preoccupied, we don’t take time to fashion our insights and observations into some useful philosophy or invention. Then, later on, upon seeing someone’s else’s production, we say woefully, “Shoot! I thought about that, but….”
Maybe your un-invented inventions would exist if you had a mindset to pursue your little insights to their logical conclusion or to the fulfillment of their potential. If you marvel at how Fracastro failed to realize that he was on the verge of a new and useful instrument, you might telescope your amazement inward. Maybe those little insights of yours are also the first stages of a substantial philosophical or physical invention.
Your brain is already equipped with telescoping ability. Use it to magnify your insights, to see what others can’t see, and possibly to put together parts into wholes.
Who can tell? Your next invention might be as close as the nearest doot-ta-doot tube.
*For toddlers, the cardboard cylinder might be as important a musical instrument as an overturned pot and spoon.
**Not everyone, of course could see the value of seeing through a telescope. The Inquisition’s clergymen, blinded by adherence to a tradition, saw only what Ptolemy said they should see.
RSS Feed