You can't help thinking of early scientists, gentle educated people who pursued new schema, building on a way of thought.  Liberal arts, as often said, is about learning how to think and how to learn and how to study.

They don't always have an easy go of it.  Einstein was a clerk, "a certified ink pisser," as he did his math (aided by his wife.)  Bruno, Galileo, Copernicus, Newton...  The same could be applied to the scientists of the literary art sort, Dickens, Hardy, those who map the worthy desires and hidden stuff, the pains and joys, the clarity and confusion of the mind.  A poet can indeed bring a sudden broader understanding to the science of the day, through careful thought, through intuition, through spiritual practice.  Such that the Buddhist can be presented with modern Quantum Theory or the concept of the vastness of the Universe, and nod, "oh, yes, we've understood that for a long time, in our own terms of mind and subtle mind, time, structure, worlds, if you care to listen."

There are hardships, it seems, when you come up with a shift of paradigm as to what might better present reality.  It's a pleasant endurance sport, one that bequeaths great satisfaction, I would imagine.  It would present a dignity of correction.

I suppose as a young scientist of my own sort--using the term quite loosely--it occurred to me, selfishly, one might argue, to find inspiration through the kind of beautiful young woman you'd want to, as a young man, bring flowers to.  That might have seemed to me as good a way as any to explore the deeper reality. You didn't necessarily have to do it in a world falling apart like in Jesus' time.

But it would still call from you a kind of personalization of the study, as if you had to live an experiment, a kind of A Tale of Two Cities sort of a thing if you had to make a rough drawing, maybe more recently Mark Helprin's Winter's Tale, related to the original Shakespeare, acts of literature, in some ways fanciful, created by the mind, but inspired by a deeper truth.

Some people feel they have to make war and conquer stuff to gain love.  To which you might say, they probably were mistreated as a child.  But that's fighting it, when you need to be passive, turning the other cheek.  (Republicans--never got enough love as children.)

As a bartender I've seen a whole long parade of strutting and boasting, a strange vision of people about how they might get what they think they want.    It could be unbearable to watch sometimes, the big ego of an older man, leaning in over a young lady, 'what's your story,' the playing of a numbers game, or a million "How To Pick Up Chicks."  Stomach turning stuff.  Such that I would not even want to write about it.  "Please, please, please be subtle;  please be gentle, please be cool," a voice aching inside would say, while I had to go on with my chores even if I too might want to respond with an overture of friendliness.  I was always, from the start, very professional about my role as bartender.  And sometimes it would hurt, particularly knowing that I would be going home to no one.  And I went through years and years, feeling completely invisible, or taken as a juvenile, patted on the head as a decent person, and even told that I must be gay and dismissed by a female with certainty to her mind.  That is pain, and maybe we all know what I'm talking about.  No way to fight your way out of it, and you just carry on with work, go home, watch TV, beat off to Hairy Erotica to keep the plumbing in order, and really wishing for high Tantric sex with an understanding beautiful soul.

But you may well end up feeling obscure as a scientist, feel the strangeness of holding down a job really in many ways far beneath you given your breadth, wisdom, knowledge, background and stature.

Bad things did happen to some of these scientists, particularly those who went against the enfranchised Church.  More egoless people who might walk through the woods and pick a flower were burnt at the stake for being witches.

Obviously it hurts being treated like an idiot and all the worse things.  But you cannot relent, cannot renounce, cannot ever quit the calling of your own science.