Day 264: Legacy

I just got done watching Hamilton on Disney Plus, and one of the main themes of the story is about who is going to tell our stories after we are gone. Who will care enough to share our adventures and words? It is about his legacy in a not so perfect life; how hard he tried at everything he did; the mistakes that he made; his heartbreaks; and his redemptions. It all made me think of my legacy and what I once thought of my obligations to myself and the world.

When I was young, older people asked me what I wanted to do as a career. I told them to ask me that question when I’m eighty and I will tell you what I did. I said that to be comical but also to avoid telling everyone that I have no freaking clue and stop asking me! I think that is how a lot of young people feel. And even if we know what we want when we are twenty, odds are that will change by the time we’re thirty. But by that time people are stuck in their careers and feel that there’s no starting over. A large paycheck makes that decision even harder. So, I didn’t want to put myself in a box too soon.

I dabbled in a lot of artistic classes in high school and college and landed on Creative Writing for a bachelor’s degree. I decided one fun night that “I like words.” It was a simple idea, much like inception, that grew into identifying myself as a writer. I was inspired by the great classic writers like George Orwell, Henry Thoreau, and Kurt Vonnegut. And I wanted to inspire millions of other people with my words just like they did. How I would put it after a couple of beers was that, “If I can inspire one person with my words, I’ll die happy. And if I can inspire one after I’m dead, even better.” So, that’s two people. But deciding that I was going “to be a writer” created a lot of identity issues and self-esteem issues.

When I wasn’t writing as much as I thought I should be, I got down on myself. When I wrote something and then didn’t go back to edit it, I got down on myself. When I wrote and thought it was garbage, I got down on myself. If I was going to claim to people that I was a writer then I better damn well write! And get published! And if not, I should shut the hell up. Eventually, I choose the latter. After all, there is that famous quote that goes something like this: “Real writers don’t talk about writing; they write.” So, it became more embarrassing to tell people about my bachelor’s degree than to be proud that I got it.

My twenties were hard to get through mentally, especially with all the drinking. A depressant doesn’t help a depressed mind but for a minute. The rest of the time the mind wants to recoil on itself and figure out how not to be depressed, running in circles of scenarios, and not ever actually taking the right action. It’s like a Chinese finger cuff: pulling and pulling when all I had to do is relax and try another approach.

That approach has brought me here, and I will be forever grateful for it. There's no other way to feel. Regret is like purposefully listening to a scratched record over and over again, hoping that the needle will smooth out the grooves. I am grateful for all the hard times, the good times, the meditations, the self-reflections, and the times when I needed to cry for no reason. They continue to help me realize that I don’t need to identify with anything, that identity is not actually real. Through trying to answer that question about legacy and what I was going to do with my life, I had forgotten that snarky response from my nineteen-year-old self: Ask me when I’m eighty.

Now, I am not so worried about inspiring people. I’m not too worried about anything else other than helping young people with their education. I’m more focused on action rather than words. Words, as an ability to change the world, are hit and miss. But positive actions will have an impact now. And I don’t just mean in the education field. I mean positive actions that are simple: just being kind to others and helping to the best of our abilities. When we fail sometimes: oh well, let’s try again. When we succeed: great, let's try again. The important part of any action is doing it with kindness in your heart. It is easier said than done, I know, but we can try.

Worrying about “who” I am or if I’m doing everything “correctly” has only led to more self-doubt. Although I still feel that way from time to time, I try to be mindful and remember that nothing really matters as long as I am trying. When I am eighty, hopefully my life would have made a difference, and maybe my words will live on through the internet. If not, the Sun will destroy the Earth in a few billion years or so anyway. So, there's the glass half full! Laugh out loud. Jay kay, jay kay. (Kind of.) It is nice not to worry anymore. It’s nice not to cling to an identity or a legacy. It makes life a happier experience.