One of my most powerful memories of being a teenager was writing in my journal to myself when I was an "old man." At the time, 58 seemed awfully old, but I think I was focused more on 70s, but the issue arises regardless of age & is totally dependent on circumstances. What I wrote was that I hoped at the end of my life, I could look back with pride on what I'd accomplished--not so much for myself, but left as a legacy.
Yuck. Legacy. That word has probably killed more people than Jesus (as a word.)
How do we evaluate ourselves? What we've done? What mark did we leave? For agnostics, it's particularly difficult, but there's no heaven where the essence of who we are extends for eternity. So, as an agnostic, I realize that, except for a handful of people, virtually every human being's existance is forgotten with a generation or two or three. And even those famous souls whose fame seems to extend to eternity, how much do we really know about Shakespeare, Alexander the Great, Plato, or Bach?
Hell, I just learned that Cleopatra was a Greek!
From one perspective, what we do in the few years granted us is irrelevant. Few of us will turn the tide of history, become Roosevelts or Gandhis or Maos or even Hitlers.
And now that I'm a point where we're trying to sell the house and move somewhere cheaper and less congested so I can retire, I can't help but look back but also forward. What have I done that's made a difference? What will I do in the years left to me to make a difference? My wife and I planned for years for me to be able to retire early...but now I'm obligated to this seventeen year old kid to account for my career. And the stresss of where to live, selling the house, arranging the finances, and a very bizarre sleep disorder that's messed up my brain for the last six months has made each day so much less than it should be.
I don't know what to say to him. I think, I hope mostly because of this brain fog, I can experience life day-to-day the way one must in order to leave something meaningful behind. I do look back with some pride at what I accomplished, and regrets at what I wish I'd accomplished, but you can always say you should have done more. And many of those so-called "regrets" can and will be addressed in my so-called retirement. (Except for being a folk star...I think I'm a little old for that.)
But when your brain is screwed up, it's very hard to find the path that John Spivey, who wrote The Great Western Divide, outlines. I know it's there...sitting, calling to me...asking me to accept and integrate rather than to fight. But I can't find it. I want the inner peace that John too searches for, but, as I lay dying, I want to be able to say, as my father did, "I fought the good fight."
As I lay dying, I know that within a very few years, no one will remember me, but that's not my purpose here. Will I be able to say I left this world a better place than when I found it?
What other criteria can one use to evaluate one's self?
