Legacy vs. Living

An existential essay on what makes a life memorable

Anna Sproul-Latimer

wrote a beautiful essay about a line from Jimmy Carter’s Voyager letters in 1977, “We are attempting to survive our time, so we may live into yours.” Her words expound on the depth and intricacies of what that quote means to humanity, especially as it pertains to writers. I won’t reiterate here… her essay is worth the read. However, it did make me think about all the ways we, as people, try to build our own legacy.

I’ve thought over Carter’s words (no doubt written by a spectacular speech writer) every day since reading them. They nudge me into reflection mode. What is my legacy? What do I want to be remembered for?

It brings me back to the reflection exercises I did as part of Merle Bombardieri’s The Baby Decision: How to Make the Most Important Choice of Your Life (no pressure or anything, right?). I journaled about what I wanted to be known and remembered for, what are the things that give my life meaning, what are the things that appeal to me about having children, and if I don’t have any, how I can still have those moments in my life. The whole exercise confused me more than I thought was already possible. But I did end up knowing two things for sure: I wanted to share my knowledge with others and I wanted to bring joy to others’ lives.

That’s it. That’s my purpose. That’s my legacy.

A speaker at a recent writer’s conference I attended suggested the two things that give your life meaning are having children and writing a book. And to that, I propose she go touch grass (lick rust? Drink bleach? – too mean?). There are thousands of ways to live a meaningful life and thousands of ways to be remembered. Not everyone can write. Not everyone will have children. Yet we are all asking to live a life worth remembering or at least memorializing.

But then… does it matter who it is remembered by?

There’s a beautiful quote in Elif Shafak’s There Are Rivers in the Sky, “He wished to conquer death and so he traveled to the ends of the world—but he failed. He did not see that the only way to become immortal is to be remembered after you have gone, and the only way to be remembered is to leave behind a good story.”

A good story.

Aside from the obvious literary connection, I love this. Sharing knowledge and joy are part of my story. Empowering others, too. So is building community.

Knowledge through my business. Community through my Substack, my bookstagram, and my too many book clubs. Joy through my writing and my books. Empowerment through it all.

But it also makes me question, to want a legacy, to live a good story worthwhile of telling others, is it symptomatic of our ego and vanity? Must we be so arrogant to think we are special enough to live on through history or tall tales? Is our ideal life being better-than?

Or is it in the pursuit of living a good story, that we actually live a good life? Nothing will be perfect and wholly original in the first go. We are all inspired and influenced by others… in art and in life. Both art and, again, life need time to incubate. Perfection is never truly reached, but strived for. It’s not the end goal that matters, but the journey. That’s why the goal of reaching the end of the world or writing that best-selling novel isn’t a good story. It’s the how, the in-between, the failures and successes. It’s the living.

I’d love for my legacy to live on beyond me, though the reality is not everyone can be Jimmy Carter. So maybe legacy is enough by sharing purpose and passion with others, inspiring them to do the same. I can only hope doing so is the first fallen tile in a domino effect of goodness, an ever-spreading network of kindness.

Then, maybe, our small, idealistic selves will have made a lasting impression on this planet and a better future for those that survive. In doing that, we live on. There is perfect, wholesome, beautiful intentionality in striving for a good story.

So perhaps I don’t write to leave a legacy (or at least, not just for that). I write to survive. Without a creative outlet, or a journal to pick apart my every thought and feeling, I become numb to it all. It’s putting myself on the Gravitron at the local carnival, watching the world spin by ever faster and powerless to get off. Writing slows it down and makes each day intentional.

Legacy isn’t what you achieved, it’s how you lived. And it’s by writing that I live.

Book & Wine Pairing

I’m grateful to the members of my book club intent on choosing literary fiction for our reads. It’s still a world that is foreign to me and I have to trust trustworthy reader’s opinions… not goodreads, for example. My husband and I usually putz around Northshire Bookstore in Manchester, VT picking books off the shelves and checking their goodreads rating. We put back anything below a 4.

I hate that. And I know… I still do it! My time is a precious commodity and I hate the idea of wasting it on a book that’s painful for me to read. It’s part of the reason I feel so strongly about DNF’ing books. Reading is a hobby and a passion. I never want to make it feel like work, or I’ll start to lose my love for it.

Anyway, in one of my multi-generational book clubs (somehow I am in 3 of those), a woman chose I Cheerfully Refuse by Leif Enger. It reminded me a bit of Shantaram in that the story is meandering and the main character doesn’t quite have purpose. He is thrown into situations that test him and mold him into someone that ultimately knows what they seek. Purpose!

Yet, unlike Shantaram, I really enjoyed this one. Sometimes first-person POV can be a little jarring for me, especially when I don’t relate to the character. But in this instance, it felt like the main character, was an old friend, sitting next to me in the bar, telling me his story. It felt intimate in a way that a lot of books don’t quite manage. It’s a book that I’ll keep with me forever because it feels like an old friend.

And so, we shall have a toast to dear friends, good and bad memories, telling stories that mosey along, somehow making it straight into our hearts. I’ll pair with Belle Ponte Murto 2019, a wine that I loved and cherished sharing with friends, but will no longer be produced. The 2019 is the last vintage made after the Murto family sold their vineyard in 2018. So the bottle is meant to be savored and shared with people you love. But also, it was memorable and one of my favorites.

As an aside, henceforth I shall replace “no” in my vernacular to “I cheerfully refuse.” Thanks for understanding.

Sadly, there are no book updates this week, at least for Susie Sweetheart. Hope to have some for you soon.

I have, however, started writing McMurder in earnest (yay!) and am jumping into another editing project about powerful BAMF women in Wyoming. Stories that aren’t valued aren’t recorded. The author’s mission is to rebuild upon the women’s stories that have been lost.

Onyx Storm by Rebecca Yarros | There Are Rivers in the Sky by Elif Shafak | Silo, Season 2 Apple TV | A Sea of Unspoken Things by Adrienne Young

Until next time :)

xx,
bbcorcs