Rivers, Greek Philosophers, and 24
12:10 AM I woke up, rather inexplicably, and realized I was officially 24 years old. I think the river just a few feet away woke me up. The water flows so strongly that the river sounds more like a constant belching than a whisper, even when I am inside the cabin. With no Internet or cellphone coverage, I went outside to look for entertainment. The thick fog illuminated the trees like a halo. I could only see gradients of darkness that seemed to stretch endlessly. I could only hear the high-pitched river, relentlessly gushing down. The sound of water A) made me want to pee urgently, and B) made me think of Heraclitus of Ephesus (530-470 BC). He was probably at a mountain, not unlike the ground I stood on, when he said this cryptic sentence:
"Into the same rivers we step and do not step, we are and are not." (B49a)
Heraclitus probably stepped in a river and thought: ‘there is this water, which flows out, and then there is that other, newer water flowing in. And this happens constantly for eternity.’ I was not dedicated enough to step into the icy cold water, but I got the gist of his thought. Is the river I see now the same river from a second ago? What of the water, is the water I chose not to step into the same water when it eventually evaporates into a fog covering Mt Moosilauke? Where exactly lies the boundary between present and a newer, changed present?
I learned about Heraclitus in my last class at college, Ancient Philosophy, a class I had only registered for to fulfill my graduation requirements—I’ve always thought philosophy sounded drab. It was a fortunate accident, as it became one of the most memorable classes I have taken. Now I am reading about some dead Greek guys while I’m at work. One could say I changed.
I changed a lot in college, like the other 21.8 million college students in America. I made some bad choices, which left a couple permanent scars, but I also stumbled onto a few diamonds, which make me the luckiest person alive in other respects. I’ve grown more comfortable with the person that I am, embracing and exploring my identify as a Korean, female, Asian American, Christian, moderately liberal, upper-middle class, educated 1% er (of the world, at least.) I’ve also tried to fight against the skin I was born in, rejecting labels, challenging norms, and desperately trying to tone these thighs I was born with.
Dartmouth also changed a lot in the same 4 ¼ years. Obviously, the president’s house had three tenants in four years, and a couple terrible PR events unrolled, all while even more Dartmouth affiliated people became illustrious world leaders. But there are less noticeable changes too. We used to be more complacent. Sexual assault was rarely talked about my freshman year. I had often heard jokes such as “That exam raped me” and “No means yes, and Yes means…” but never raised a voice. Now, people are feeling something, talking about things, and trying to create change.
Not all changes are noticeable. Everything at Dartmouth feels like exactly where I left it, like coming back home after a short vacation. I keep running into students who dress, walk, and talk exactly like people who I know are not in college anymore, or even me. It’s as if I’m an actress watching my play with an understudy who wears all of my costumes, and says all of my lines perfectly. I feel partly sad that I’ve been replaced so easily, but in some way I am proud because my legacy lives on.
As I studied my shadow from the cabin’s porch light, I realized that I have the same silhouette, 5’5 and curvy with shoulder length black hair, now as an insomniac alumna as I did five years ago when I was last staying at the same Moosilauke Ravine Lodge during my Freshman Trips. But five years ago I did not understand lewd jokes about getting dirty in the great outdoors—tripcest—and was nervous that people would see how greasy my hair gets from not showering for three days and think I’m weird and uncool. I think I have parted ways with some innocence, and welcomed in some confidence since then.
As nostalgic as I am about my younger, less responsible days at Dartmouth, I’m pretty excited about this new chapter of my life. Sometimes rivers change in drastic ways that are impossible to ignore. I heard from another camper that Hurricane Sandy tore down a big wooden bridge going across the river by the cabin and changed the river’s path entirely. Ten or twenty years down the road, I will and will not be the same. But I am certain that wherever I will be, I will change oh-the-places-I’ll-go, as I have at Dartmouth.
andulkaphoto
areudirty
pixelskylines
tangentwithtanner
vaporwave
yousharknotpass
kianamaiart
2087
annaxmalina