We must examine whether this should be done (praktéon) or not, because I [not only now but always] am a man who allows himself to be persuaded only by the argument [lógos, reason] that, after reflection, appears to me to be the best. I cannot simply throw overboard the arguments I have formulated in the past merely because chance has placed me here. They seem to me to remain intact, as before, and I respect and honor them as I always have. If we are not capable of putting forward something better than those arguments, you may be certain that I will not agree with you, even if the majority frightens us with all manner of specters, threatening us with imprisonment, death, or the loss of our property (Gómez-Lobo, 1989).
Happy holidays. Happy New Year. And, most likely, happy birthday.
It has been some time since the last article, and it may look like abandonment, but it is not. Work in the office has not stopped: changes have been made, things have been discarded, channels have been closed. Not out of caprice, but for a simple reason that many claim to defend and few actually practice: improvement requires renunciation.
The philosophical opening serves as a warning, since the previous article asked, "What are you waiting for?", making it clear that there is no universal answer. Here, the problem is different: the damage caused when we stop questioning ourselves rigorously, or worse, when we confuse questioning with doubting everything without criteria.
Questioning what is taken for granted is necessary. Failing to do so is foolishness. Doing it without measure is paralysis. Both lead to the same place.
It is common, at the beginning or end of cycles, at year’s end, during new stages, breakups, or new jobs, to exchange empty congratulations. We have been trained to believe that a change of date equals a change of essence, as if the calendar had the metaphysical power to absolve mistakes, reset failures, and promise automatic redemption.
From there comes the comfortable and popular fallacy: “New year, new me.”
Who decided that? At what point did we accept that personal improvement depends on a solar convention?
Our best version is not waiting for January first. It never was. And as long as we keep postponing it, it will not appear.
We are, whether we like it or not, a Ship of Theseus.
The journey is long. The sea is unforgiving. Something breaks and is repaired or replaced. A plank today, a mast tomorrow. Nothing remains intact. Upon reaching port, none of the pieces is original. And yet, the ship is still the ship.
So the question is inevitable: is it still the same, or is it a different one?
The same happens to us. We do not die and are not reborn each year. We do not reach solid ground when the calendar changes. We remain the same vessel, repaired, patched, transformed, but continuous.
And this is where popular belief fails: we have been led to think that the time to improve is subject to symbolic dates, that there are "correct" deadlines for reading, learning, changing, healing, as if there were an expiration date for taking responsibility for ourselves and our actions.
The end of a year does not erase our afflictions. The beginning of the next does not save us.
And even if we have repaired ourselves during the crossing, we have not ceased to be who we are.
Here, doubt is indeed necessary, not to destroy everything, but to examine it. To review our own virtues and vices, not first those of others. And then the uncomfortable question returns:
Are we loyal to what we were taught even when we know it is wrong, or are we willing to obey lógos even if it forces us to fall apart temporarily?
Remember how long you have been postponing this, and how many extensions the gods granted you that you did not use. At some point, you must recognize to which world you belong, what power governs it, and from what source you come; that there is a limit to the time assigned to you, and if you do not use it to free yourself, it will be gone and will never return (Aurelius, 2003).
It is not fair to demand that every individual "better themselves" according to a collective, time-stamped expectation. The narrative of wiping the slate clean not only absolves errors; it also erases achievements. And that is a subtle way of denying ourselves.
Let us be fair to ourselves. Let us not erase the history that built us. Everything we were and everything we are coexist within the same structure. There is no "original" part and another "repaired" one: they are the same thing. It is not the wood that defines the ship, but that which holds it together.
That is why one must hurry, not only because each day brings us closer to death, but because our capacity to understand may vanish before we reach it (Aurelius, 2003).
No one else will decide for you when to begin or when to end. If you wait for the perfect sign, you are already too late.
In a world where the dice are loaded, a person must possess iron resolve, armor strong enough to withstand the blows of fate, and the weapons needed to carve a path forward against others. Life is a long battle; we must fight at every step. And, as Voltaire argued, if we prevail, it will be by the edge of the sword, and we die with our weapons in hand (Schopenhauer, 1851).
Satoricha ~
P.S.: Here I am, Gu Shu ^^
References
Aurelius, M. (2003). Meditations (G. Hays, Trans.). Random House Publishing Group.
Gómez-Lobo, A. (1989). La ética de Sócrates. Fondo de Cultura Económica.
Suárez Girard, A.-H. (1997).
Lun Yu, reflexiones y enseñanzas (A.-H. Suárez Girard, Ed.; A.-H. Suárez Girard, Trans.). Editorial Kairós SA.
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