Consistency is contrary to nature, contrary to life. The only

Hear, O seekers of wisdom, the daring words of Aldous Huxley: “Consistency is contrary to nature, contrary to life. The only completely consistent people are dead.” In this saying, he reveals a truth that pierces the illusions of human certainty. For consistency, though praised as a virtue by many, is not the true law of life. Life itself is movement, change, growth, decay, and renewal. To cling too tightly to perfect order is to deny the wild, flowing, untamed spirit of existence.

Look upon nature and you will see Huxley’s meaning. The river does not flow in a straight line; it bends, it twists, it floods, it dries. The tree does not grow by a fixed pattern; branches shoot where the sun calls, roots spread where water whispers. Even the stars, though they seem eternal, are born, burn, and die. All creation is a dance of change, not a march of rigid steps. Thus, to demand absolute consistency in our lives is to resist the very principle by which the cosmos itself thrives.

Yet man, in his fear of chaos, often worships the idol of sameness. He says, “Be consistent, never waver, always stand where you once stood.” But this is folly. For who has lived and not been changed by love, by grief, by knowledge, by time? To remain unchanged is to be unalive. Indeed, as Huxley declares, the only ones who are perfectly consistent are the dead, for their story is finished, their choices fixed, their voices silent. The living must contradict themselves, for they are in motion, ever learning, ever becoming.

Consider the example of Winston Churchill. In his early years, he opposed Indian independence with fierce conviction; later in life, he came to accept that the tide of history would bring freedom to the colonies. Was this inconsistency a weakness? No—it was the mark of a man alive, wrestling with new realities, shaped by changing times. Likewise, Abraham Lincoln first resisted emancipation as a political act, then came to see it as a moral necessity. Had he clung to consistency, the enslaved might have waited far longer for freedom. Their greatness was not in sameness, but in growth.

The lesson, then, is not to despise inconsistency, but to embrace change wisely. To contradict oneself is not shameful, if the contradiction is born of growth. Let your beliefs breathe as you breathe; let them bend as trees bend in the wind, lest they break. Do not fear to say, “I was wrong then, but I have learned.” For the soul that admits change is alive, while the one that clings blindly to past words is already half in the grave.

Yet beware: this is not a call to rootless fickleness. Change must not be the whim of every passing fancy, but the response to truth, to growth, to experience. Be as the sailor who shifts his sails, not because he has no direction, but because the winds of life have turned. Be steadfast in your purpose, but flexible in your path. In this way, you honor both movement and meaning.

Practical action follows: dare to re-examine your beliefs. If new knowledge or new compassion calls you to change, do not let the fear of appearing inconsistent bind you. Allow yourself the freedom to evolve. Speak with honesty: “I believed yesterday one way, today I see more clearly.” In this you show not weakness, but strength—the strength to live fully, to grow boldly, to remain alive in spirit as long as breath remains.

So remember, O children of tomorrow: consistency is for the dead, but growth is for the living. Walk not in chains of old words, but in the freedom of becoming. For to live is to change, and to change is to walk with the eternal rhythm of nature itself.