We Are Not Yesterday: Identity in Motion
Created at: October 7, 2025
I can't go back to yesterday — I was a different person then. — Lewis Carroll
Wonderland’s Lesson of a Moving Self
At the outset, Carroll’s line, voiced by Alice in Lewis Carroll’s Wonderland tales (1865–1871), distills the shock of rapid growth. After stretching and shrinking and trading riddles with improbable creatures, she senses that time remakes us. The impossible geography of Wonderland externalizes everyday development: experience bends perspective until yesterday’s certainties no longer fit. Therefore her refusal to “go back” is less defiance than realism—there is no static self to return to.
From Flux to Continuity: Philosophical Echoes
From here, philosophy supplies frames. Heraclitus insisted one never steps into the same river twice, because both river and stepper are in motion. Yet early modern thinkers sought criteria for sameness: John Locke argued in An Essay Concerning Human Understanding (1690) that personal identity tracks memory—who remembers an action is the same person. David Hume countered with a bundle theory, seeing the self as a stream of perceptions stitched by habit. Alice’s line slips between these poles: change is constant, but we still narrate a thread.
The Brain That Rewrites Itself
Moreover, modern science sharpens the point. The brain rewires with learning; synapses strengthen and prune across the lifespan. Recalling a memory can even render it malleable and subject to updating, a process called reconsolidation (Nader, Schafe, and LeDoux 2000). Psychologists also describe the “end of history illusion”: adults believe they have changed a lot up to now but will change little henceforth, a bias documented by Quoidbach, Gilbert, and Wilson in Science (2013). Alice resists that illusion; she expects tomorrow’s self to differ again.
Storytelling Selves and Growth
Consequently, identity becomes a story we revise. Dan McAdams argues that people build narrative identities, threading past events into plots of growth, redemption, or caution (The Stories We Live By, 1993). Because new chapters reframe old scenes, yesterday’s “me” cannot be recovered unchanged; it exists only within today’s telling. Yet this is not loss alone. Like a palimpsest, traces remain, giving continuity without freezing the page.
Responsibility Amid Change
Even so, change raises moral questions: if we are different, what binds promises or accountability? Derek Parfit’s Reasons and Persons (1984) proposes that psychological connectedness—not strict identity—grounds what matters for prudence and responsibility. On this view, we owe our past and future selves care in proportion to the links we share, and we owe others honesty about how we have changed. Alice’s insight thus encourages humility: hold commitments firmly, yet update them when growth reveals better reasons.
Living Forward With Yesterday’s Wisdom
Finally, the quote becomes a compass. Since going back is impossible, we can honor yesterday by learning from it: keep a journal to witness change, set “living” goals you revise, and mark transitions with small rituals of closure. Likewise, practice self-compassion when past choices no longer fit; that mismatch signals learning, not failure. In this way, we move forward—curious, responsible, and ready for the next version of ourselves.