Marks or Ripples?

What Matters in What We Leave Behind Us?

NOTE: This one is a bit of a departure from my usual focus, though it still feels consistent with the theme of The Good We Seek. Let me know what you think.

[Foreword: What sorts of things invite or inspire me to write? This morning it was a song by Nick Drake, a British singer-songwriter who died in 1974. His music frequently pops up among playlists/radio I listen to on Spotify, and when I first heard him about 15 years ago, I thought, “Oh, a cool new musician!” His music felt contemporary. An astute student of mine told me that he had died many years earlier, and at first I didn't believe her… Sadly, his music wasn't widely appreciated until after his death. This morning as one of his songs played, I thought about what he left us with his music. What does it mean — and what does it matter — if we leave things, marks that show we were here? And trust me, I recognize that this is absolutely my own life- stage stuff. But maybe you'll also find it interesting/helpful!]

My first thoughts as I listened to his song today: Sadness that he wasn't around longer to share his gift of music with the world, and that he didn't know how much it would continue to mean to people even 50 years later; and then considering to what extent creative and famous people corner the market on marks left behind. And alongside that, somewhat painfully wondering what crumbs are left for the rest of us?

No one will be listening to my old sermons after I'm gone… pretty sure no one is doing so now, though I imagine some are out there floating in the ether of the World Wide Web (should I check on that?? 🤔). The only long-ish thing I've ever written was my Doctor of Ministry project paper (around 35 pages) that accumulates dust both on my shelf and (presumably) in the Columbia Seminary library. (The only other copy I know of was one I gave to my parents, long-since recycled). At some point I hope to publish some poetry… we'll see… Maybe some kind of book, though I rarely maintain focus on any one thing long enough to produce a book. This Substack will last for ??? But safe to say, it will never be even one of the more popular blogs on this (or any) platform. Our sons are the most significant mark I've helped make on the world. Nothing wrong with that at all, and I'm exceedingly proud of (and awed by) both of them. They are gifts to us and to the world.

The word legacy suggests leaving a mark or a message. Rooted in the Latin word legatus, it originally had connection to diplomacy and messengers. Gradually it took on the meaning we now have of something (a message) handed on or something we leave behind for others.

The word mark made me think of markers, sign-posts, way-posts, rock cairns (of which my brother is a master builder), landmarks, and milestones. What is it about us (I say us, though even as I write I'm wondering to what extent this might be more of a concern for men? I rarely hear/read about women who are concerned with legacy. Surely there is a lesson there…) that wants to leave a mark on the world? I suppose we want to feel that our lives mattered, right? That it made a difference that we existed at all. But what does it take to satisfy that longing? How long is long enough for our mark to remain visible/accessible? (10 years? 100? 1,000?) What would be enough of an impact? (And how would you measure it?) How far-reaching — how many people — would feel sufficient? These are for most of us, I suspect, unanswerable questions.

It feels to me that those driven to leave indelible (and immeasurable?) marks on the world are the cause of much of its suffering. Their seeming-path to immortality relies on their ability to force or impress their image onto the world and/or other people. Driven — as we all are at times — by the inescapability of death, they feverishly spread the virus of their anxiety, hoping to mitigate its effects on them by doing so. Sadly, such anxiety only multiplies — in them and in others. So how else might we think about legacy?

Not that you would have realized this (😉), but I think a lot (almost exhaustively!) in metaphors; I recently had a ministry coaching client who commented (appreciatively 🙂) on my use of metaphors in the coaching process. Considering legacy, while marks/markers/etc. first came to mind, the metaphor that is sticking with me, and that feels (to use coaching language) invitational (that is, like opportunity than obligation) is ripples — as though the impact of our lives is like a drop into a pond which creates ripples that spread out in unpredictable (due to all the other intersecting ripples) ways. Those waves — large or small — dissipate in energy and effect over time. (Or really they transfer their energy into other things… think about that for a minute… the energy is never really gone; it just becomes something else 🤯).¹

I realize it gives me peace to think about legacy in this way — it's kind of zen, I suppose. It removes some kind of pressure I didn't even know I had resting on my shoulders to make sure they were big enough to allow others to stand on them. Ripples on the other hand can be subtle, gentle, composed of multiple small kindnesses and acts of curiosity or courage (are those really that different?).

Among a handful of my all-time favorite poems is this deeply significant gem from Wendell Berry:

Whatever happens,
those who have learned
to love one another
have made their way
to the lasting world
and will not leave,
whatever happens.

This Day: Collected & New Sabbath Poems

So then, friends, perhaps our legacy is already secured.

Peace (and Love), Dana

1. I have a couple of physicist friends, though I don't believe they read these posts; so let me know if my science is way off on this one 🙂.