I don’t know when it happened, exactly. Whether I flipped a switch, or the lighting changed more gradually, as if a dimmer had slowly illuminated a new space. But I recognize that it happened some time ago, and it feels like a natural process – inhabiting this territory where the focus is off my experience lived intensely, and outside of myself, more diffusely.
It’s not that I don’t want new experiences, or to live intensely any longer. That’s not the case.
But I’m not walled in by the confines of my memories, or my once-upon-a-time ambitions. By an image of what life should be like. It’s as though I scaled those walls and I’m somewhere else, beyond myself. Much of the time, anyway. In a place where I’m concerned with tangible contribution. With legacy.
Do we all reach a stage where our experiences take a back seat to something bigger – or at the very least – share equal footing?
That contribution may be to family, or a specific community, or a cause.
- Is it tied to becoming a parent?
- To some event in which you confront your mortality?
- Is it a common side effect of moving into midlife?
Parenting beyond our children
For many mothers, as soon as we sense that we’re pregnant, we realize we’re part of something more complex than ourselves. We feel it before any home test or doctor confirms what our bodies already announce: we are responsible for another life.
Father or mother – in our parenting pandemonium, we come to understand that our former preoccupations are not as important as we thought – being on time, looking dapper, getting that promotion. Whether we like it or not, we’re forced beyond the singular. We become less selfish, aware of the dependence that others have on our decision making and our actions.
And we begin to worry about the sort of world we’ll leave to our children.
But I don’t think the need to contribute, to do more than make a buck or upgrade the dining room furniture only occurs when parenthood hits. Some of us are late to parenting and feel this need long before. Some of us never take the parental plunge at all. Yet we want more. We want to give, differently. Something flips that switch – an event, a birthday, a realization – or a slow process of lights coming on that we can’t quite pinpoint.
If I had three wishes. . .
We’ve all played that game, haven’t we? And its variations – “If I had a million dollars…” or “If I won the lottery…”
I never dreamed of being wealthy, though I hoped to make enough money to not worry about paying my bills. And write. Always, to write. I dreamed of writing and making art, of traveling and loving, and pouring that back into my writing.
I made art for a time as a child and teen, but writing was the stronger pull, so I guess it’s fitting that for a few years I made my living writing about art. And all my life, I’ve written – all sorts of things – following my passion to do so, incorporating it into every job I’ve ever had, whether it was the job or not.
Long before becoming a mother, I thought about what I would do if I had millions. And yes, there would be money in the bank, a few incredible paintings on my walls, a small flat in Paris, and that freedom to write and not worry about the bills. But I wanted to give away the rest. My friends would laugh. My husband shook his head. I had no interest in the big house, the flashy car, the fingers weighed down by diamonds. I need my fingers light – quick on the keyboard, free to hold a pencil, a pen, anything – so I may write.
History, volunteerism, philanthropy
My great grandparents were immigrants to this country like millions of others. They were merchants and musicians, passing through Ellis Island somewhere around 1905, part of the vast wave of families seeking a better life in America.
I still recall my great grandfather – a formidable man with a shock of white hair – who dispensed silver dollars to each of his great grandchildren at the holidays. He had come to this country with his wife, raised a family of eight children (to the best of my recollection), built himself a number of businesses, and considerable wealth. Part of his legacy was his family, and part of his legacy was philanthropy – a foundation bearing his name, and doing good work.
When my children were little I donated money to their public school, like many other parents. I gave for programs in the arts, specifically, as the budget was much too small, and both musical instruments and art supplies were insufficient. I also cleared it with my employer to have ample time to volunteer – generally running art projects. I did it for my sons, and I did it for me. My need to see those faces, excited and learning, and the pleasure they took in creating. It felt incredible. What the kids got out of it other than a few hours of fun, I’ll never know. What I got out of it was enormous satisfaction.
Real world changes
I am no longer in a position to give my time, or money. My world changed significantly some years back. The lights dimmed.
Yet I will not say that they have been switched off. And certainly not when it comes to leaving my mark. A legacy, however small and whatever that may mean. Raising two good men – and I’m not quite done yet – that’s a contribution, and one I take pride in. But I want more. I sense there’s more to do.
Perhaps writing will be involved. I don’t know. But that switch that was flipped on – whenever and however that happened – it seems to be on to stay. At least, for now.
Do you think about your legacy? Do you focus on contributions beyond your immediate family? Do you worry about the world we’ll leave to our children, and if so, what do you do about it?
I imagine someday I’ll feel that switch flipping too.
For now, what feels most relevant to me in this post is this idea of lightness in what we own. After a decade of moving about once a year, I’ve learned to appreciate having only what I absolutely need. Now that we’re settled in one place for (hopefully) the next few years, we’ve had room to unpack a little more, but I still find myself wanting to donate, sell off, get rid of what doesn’t have use or historical significance. I think better without all that stuff, strange as that may be, even if it’s packed away out of sight.
This makes good sense to me, CT. For many reasons, I’m in “streamlining” mode. I want less stuff. I believe it will make thinking easier. I believe it will make writing easier. And living easier.
This post really struck a chord with me. There’s so much I agree with that’s it hard to pull one strand out from the others.
Like you, having children made me more aware of the world around me and around them. It became something I wanted to be sure would still be around for them, even if I wasn’t. It’s made me take more action regarding my community and outside my community, but I’m not really a true activist in that it’s a calling.
Writing is my more my calling. It’s my soul-mate and friend. I noted that writing seems to have been one of your friends for most of your life, as well. While my daughters don’t really enjoy my writing at this time in their lives, I do hope that someday they will.
I’ve never been a good seamstress, but I think of my writing as a form of word quilting or tapestry. I tell stories and take pictures…I suppose that someday, they may become my legacy. Who knows?
Thanks for this post. It’s a very thoughtful subject. I enjoyed my visit to your site very much:~)
Sara –
Welcome, and thank you for joining the conversation. “Word quilting or tapestry.” I love that. I think it’s a wonderful image. Yes, writing can be the constant soul mate. I couldn’t agree more.
Please come back and visit soon.
The strings that pull at my desires have always waxed and waned. However, I am noticing that I am noticing more waning than waxing. I once wanted to be a professional pool player and when I couldn’t devote the time to it, I was frustrated, angry and disappointed. Now, even though I still have a desire to play well, and have disappointment when I don’t, I no longer have that anger, that fire and I am glad about that. I think it’s about me accepting where I am. One thing that I notice is that it’s about me, not my children. Maybe that’s not a good thing, I don’t know.
As for philanthropy, I’ve never been in much of a position to contribute financially, but I’ll give to the schools. However, my family (and I) have a deep history of volunteerism. My time is short these days though so I cannot contribute as much as I’d like. But I do like doing just for the sake of doing.
In my view writing, painting, music, commerce, parenting and everything else are media through which spirit can flow. Any particular medium is of less interest, in and of itself, compared with what is flowing through it at any given time. The legacy I would aspire to is one that helps us all get past the very future orientation required for a legacy to unfold.
When the living spirit takes up residence, be it in words or paint or a parenting moment, time itself melts into the eternal moment.
Here’s to wishing you good flow of current, and a feeling of trust in, and harmony with, your own switches.
I think it’s because you have faced (and written about) all your fears, your anger, your frustration. As I’ve said about 10,000 times, one HAS to face that before they can find an authentic, more positive place. And I love your imagery of the dimmer switch.
This post spoke to me – my desire to help, to make a difference, to touch lives… and I do give my time both to my daughter’s ballet school and to a school/business partnership. I give to the arts as well… and I hope that in giving my daughter is exposed to the importance of community and her place in that community… just as I hope that through exposing her to the different defnitions of community, she will see how everything ebbs and flows and works together. As a parent I felt that I was now a part of something bigger – my role being to be the care giver to a child that would touch lives in ways that I couldn’t. I felt the smallness of the community and the connectedness. I like giving what I can and how I can – and for now that is by being the best mom I can be, being aware of those around me, and by lending a hand when possible.
My legacy? Big enough for me. I’ve raised two children, both teachers who will leave their marks on the children they teach because they are very good at what they do, they are caring, they are generous souls. I worry about the world we are leaving my grandchldren, so I have gone as green as I can realistically. I cannot leave a mark that is larger than my life, which really is quite small. But I am content with that. Now. In my youth, I would not have been. In my youth, I thought I could change the world, Now I think I can make a very small contribution, but every little bit matters. I was not meant to be remembered by many. I am not Gandhi, or Einstein, or Mother Teresa. But I matter. to a small portion of the world, and that matters.
This is lovely Carol. I think raising two good children who are teachers – who will touch so many lives – that’s quite a legacy. I hope I will be able to say the same.
I, too, have always loved to write. And apparently I also have a lot to say. I think my switch was flipped when I found blogging. I can’t even begin to express what my little blog means to me but part of why that is, is because what I write speaks to so many others too. I have some feeling, or maybe it’s just a hope, that somehow this blogging thing is part of my legacy.
I love this post, BLW. I have always had a strong activist side (as much as I dislike that word, I can’t think of a more appropriate one at the moment) and I feel lucky that I am able to feed it. I started volunteering in junior high and have done some form of it since then.
I first learned the concept of “leaving a legacy” back then but it was about 10 years ago when it shifted for me. I left the corporate world and got a little non-profit job focusing on women’s issues after I volunteered at a women’s shelter. the shift went from “leaving a legacy” to “leaving the world a little better than I found it”. (I honestly don’t know which one is more ambitious.) I followed a national candidate around through various states a few years ago and saw how much she gave, how sincere she was in her desire to serve, how much of an impact she had already made at that point without getting proper credit. I always heard her say those words and, I don’t know, they resonated with me then and still do now.
And hearing you say that you’re keeping that light on gives me a very warm glow.
I enjoyed this piece and the wonderful conversation here.
I need to think of the small ways I impact my world, because it is small these days. Full, but very intensely focused. I would like to feel like I left behind something of worth. But really, the best you can do is affect people.
Art, writing, music, theater – these are lasting and important because they do impact lives, often in ways that are inexplicable.
I feel my light dim right now, but that doesn’t mean I won’t turn it up later…
Enjoyable read and it also got me thinking about my legacy. As a mother I would like to believe that my two children will be confident in what they do and become and that will be through some impact that I have had on them. As a teacher I would hope that my students feel that they have learnt something (even if small) that they can take with them throughout life.
As for myself, my mum reminded me the other day, how much I loved to read and write, and how much my niece does exactly the same now and how my brother is in awe of how much she is just like me, I quote ‘her head constantly in a book’. My light switch went on then, time and life sometimes dims it but at that moment it flip bright. Thank you for this post.
A beautiful post. And I love the light metaphor. I do think about legacy. Perhaps not often enough. I was raised in a family of philanthropists and hope to continue the trend of giving back. I do think so much of our legacy is about raising good people, thoughtful creatures who ask big questions about self and other and world.
To me this read like a foreshadowing. Someplace I’m not quite to yet, but can sense in my future. I’m taking small steps in that direction – volunteering, donating, contributing – but I hadn’t thought about any of it in the terms of legacy. Big stuff for me to ponder today. Thank you.
I agree 100% with the giving part. it feels great – whether we give our time, our love, our money… It’s about giving to people and to causes that make the world a better place.
I used to think that legacy was the most important thing, but I realized over time that legacy is meaningless if that’s the motivation for the giving. Someone who gives in order to have a building named after their family is doing so to appease their ego. Someone who gives to make the world a better place doesn’t need that ego boost.
In my BC years (before children), I had dreams of Creative Director positions in exciting ad agencies. Hours of brainstorming with amazing creative minds, developing unique campaigns. It would be fun, fulfilling, exciting. It didn’t materialize. I married right out of college and while I did my best at establishing my career, Entrepreneur moved a lot with the companies he worked for. So I moved too; never being anywhere long enough to move up the creative ladder. When we did settle, it was time for a family and, well, we women can have it all…just not all at the same time. I chose mommyhood and although I freelanced a bit, I dropped off the industry radar. When I re-emerged, it was another time and I had to play catch up with my skills and knowledge.
Legacy? It won’t be anything related to career achievements. And that’s okay with me now. I leave this world with one wish; that I made a positive difference in someone’s life. A child, husband, friend or stranger. I’ve come to realize that my job here is to be the best person I can be, in whatever situation presents itself.