Heraclitus and the River
The only thing that is constant is change.
This piece’s quote, or doctrine rather, is one I haven’t forgotten since the day I heard it. It’s a poetic way to describe how something can be two things at once. Contradictory. Confusing. Beautiful.
I love the complexity of ideas like these. Ones that can be picked apart and interpreted in as many ways as there are readers. Take what you like, and leave the rest.
So many times you can reflect on your life and no two backward glances are the same. As we grow, age, and learn about the world, opinions change and shift. One day a memory might be joyful, the next it’s soiled by some recalled injustice.
Emotions come and go, and this is the perfect time to give a shoutout to the person who inspired me to join Substack, Meghan at
, who follows the belief that all emotions are valuable, both the “good” and the “bad.”Regardless of how you interpret your emotions, you can probably concede that those interpretations shift and change with time.
Ancient Greek philosopher Heraclitus puts it into this lovely metaphor:
“You can never cross the same river twice. For it is not the same river and he is not the same man.”
The original is likely lost to time, as other philosophers have paraphrased his idea over and over. The thought remains the same.
Another famous line attributed to Heraclitus:
“The only thing that is constant is change.”
Paraphrased, of course, but timeless nonetheless. I remember highlighting, circling, and underlining this specific one in my course notes when I first heard it.
No matter how often you cross or revisit something, it will change as you do. Never quite the same.
As any physicist can tell you, all things are energy - constantly vibrating, moving, transforming from one state to another.
Stillness can symbolize death. Dead water. Dead weight.
Like the shark always swimming forward, making moves keeps us alive. It's what proves we're still in control.
And yet we still hold onto identities for ourselves and the things around us. We have people we've known for years, decades, and they've somehow both morphed into entirely new humans and remained exactly the same.
Kind of like like how we say we've “known someone for lifetimes,” we can somehow start to express how they’ve seen us change throughout our eras.
The river is constantly flowing and yet its essence remains.
The name of the river remains. The existence of the thing itself. And yet the water comes and goes.
Think of who you are and who you've become. You've grown. You also have the same beating heart you were born with. Then again, you have freshly regenerated cells, what is it, once every seven years or so?
Meanwhile, your heart is still yours, never ceasing to be yours.
I hold onto these contradictions the way I often do with my feelings. As a comfort. A reminder of who I am and how I shift. Some days they’re a warm tea, others an abrasive spirit when I enjoy the burn.
Thanks for reading the latest on Writing on Writing, I’m grateful you’re here. I feel like these pieces are healing something in me, like a callback to the wisdom of my youth. Subscribe for free to read upcoming pieces on my favourite philosophy concepts and existential questions.