The Legend of Theseus’ Ship

In Greek mythology, Theseus is kind of a big deal. Among other things, he is famous for facing and slaying the Minotaur (a half-man, half-bull creature that lived in the Labyrinth).

The story goes that the ship he sailed in was kept in a harbor as a museum piece, but slowly over time the ship began to fall apart. As the parts of the ship wore out, they were replaced by new ones to preserve the state of Theseus’ ship.

But eventually, every part of the ship had been replaced. And at this point, the scholar’s debated: if none of the original parts were still there, was this still Theseus’ ship?

One side would argue that yes, the identity of the ship goes beyond the resources that were used to build it. Others would argue that no, this vessel is now a completely different thing. (Which leads to an obvious but difficult to answer follow-up question: if someone were to collect all the original pieces of wood and refashion them, would THAT be Theseus’ ship?)

It’s an interesting thought experiment. Personally, I lean towards the side that believes identity goes beyond raw materials. But what really fascinates me is that the same thing is happening to us as humans.

The average human cell is between 7 and 10 years old. While the exact lifespan varies depending on the body part, the fact is that our body is constantly replacing itself.

The bottom line: you are not the same person you were last year, or even last week!

As I talked to David Sparks about the decision to leave his law career on a recent Focused episode, he made a comment about how the decision to become a lawyer was made “several Sparkys ago.”

I think this is a pretty brilliant way to gain some perspective. Too often we feel trapped by decisions and commitments that we made a long time ago.

The truth is that who we are and who we were are two very different people.

As I embark on The Year of Recalibration, I find this revelation particularly timely. As I attempt to explore new options I wouldn’t have considered before, I have to remind myself that I am not who I was when I created my current set of assumptions. Though my identity is constant, every cell in my body is in a state of constant change.

As a result, I give myself permission to change my mind about things.

What was right then may not be what is right now. Seasons change. People change. I’ve changed.

And so have you!

Change is a (necessary) fact of life. Recognizing that you’re not the same person you were doesn’t make you disingenuous. Sometimes embracing the season and changing your mind about things is the most authentic thing you can do. Have the courage to reevaluate things and fight for what’s right for future you.

Until next time – keep going, and keep growing.

— Mike Schmitz