Legacy. The grandiose word with which I’ve led my decision making for the majority of my adult life. I’m not supremely talented, or noteworthy in a way to be remembered millennia from now. But I wanted to leave my mark. To have SOMETHING that would last beyond my last breath, beyond the memories that slowly fade with my loved ones.
I wanted to be a coach, to mold young people on the field and off. Then, to run a business, a restaurant that would be written about and critiqued by the most notable culinary voices. Most recently, to write a book. Not just a novel, but a tangled web of an elaborate world that captured minds like Brandon Sanderson. And not just a book, but a series, one that would (hopefully) render JK Rowling obsolete, only to leave her own legacy forgotten and buried, as deserves.
In the last year, I’ve done a LOT of self reflection, trying to understand why I’m here. I thought I had everything figured out a year ago, and then the universe kindly sat my ass down and threw a mirror in my face. And while I realized what my purpose was a few months ago, I didn’t fully understand it until recently.
I saw a video of someone asking people what they wish more people could know and accept. And, while this man’s answer wasn’t the first time I had heard it, it finally stuck. His advice to us all: that all of this is going to end, so do your best, etc. Most likely, this isn’t the first time you’re hearing this either, so let me explain my “ah ha!” moment more specifically.
When I’ve thought about the context around this kind of quote before, it was always framed as “WE are all going to die, so do your best, etc.” Which is enough to realize that we all have a finite amount of time to leave our legacy, to shape minds, influence taste buds or write our epics. But that’s not the point.
No, what struck me this time was one small change in phrasing. “ALL of THIS will end…” Everything. Sure, generations will live on, reveling on their own successes and swapping stories of their ancestors. But eventually, it will all end. With any luck, the Earth will reclaim the scars humans have placed upon its skin, heal itself, and eventually, with an uninhabitable climate, just…exist. No sentience. Just peace. And when that happens, who’s left to read your scribe? To taste your ideas? It’s all gone. WE’RE all gone. So what’s the point?
Which circles me back to what I learned my purpose was. And, if I may be so bold, I believe it should be the purpose of everyone, from first breath to last. The goal should be to live joyously, love and be loved. Because what else could possibly satisfy our most immediate needs, and the needs of our loved ones?
The money will wilt and become meaningless. I don’t think it means much now, but I acknowledge it’s what is needed to feed, clothe and house ourselves. The books will fade, the buildings with their names covered by moss and growth. No one will be here to share about the person that turned their life around by demonstrating positive behaviors. It’ll all just be…gone.