Leaving a Legacy

Is that what we should focus on?

“But the effect of her being on those around her was incalculably diffusive; for the growing good of the world is partly dependent on unhistoric acts; and that things are not so ill with you and me as they might have been, is half owing to the number who lived faithfully a hidden life, and rest in unvisited tombs.”
— George Eliot, Middlemarch

A friend was recently discussing retirement with her financial planner, when he asked something that took her by surprise. Didn’t she want to leave a legacy? My friend has no children to provide with an inheritance, or even nieces or nephews, so the legacy in question would presumably go to some kind of charity.

But leaving a financial legacy was the farthest thing from her mind.

At this point, most of us who look ahead to retiring someday are thinking less about leaving anything behind and more about whether we’ll have enough to live on for whatever indeterminate amount of time we have left — especially with the looming specter of the extremely expensive care we might need in our final years. Of course, Rafael and I will designate who or what our remaining dollars will go to if there are any dollars remaining when we die. But that seems unlikely enough that we don’t waste much time thinking about it. That’s true for most of us who don’t have children to consider.

Money, though, is just one aspect of leaving a legacy. It may be a prominent consideration for people with significant amounts of money, but for most of us it’s a fleeting thought — if we consider it at all.

Yet, it’s common for people to feel the need to leave some kind of legacy, whatever form that might take.

What does it mean to leave a legacy?

It can mean so many things. Some feel the need to create a masterful work of art or literature that will be enjoyed by generations to come. Or to create something else tangible, like a building or a road. Even better if it’s something that will help people. It could be a nonprofit that keeps doing good after you’re gone, or a company that grows and employs lots of people. It could be policies that leave a lasting impact. It could be children whom you raise well. It could even be as simple as a life well lived that affects others positively, including those who remain alive after you die.

What all of these have in common is the need to create something that will outlive us. When faced with our mortality, our reaction is to strive for immortality. By leaving something behind, we create the illusion that we’ll keep living forever. Or at least, for a few more years.

The desire to leave a legacy also stems from an oversized idea of our own importance. If you’ve been following Flower Child, you’ll know that a book I read recently, Four Thousand Weeks, has got me thinking about this. With only four thousand weeks to live, on average, we humans are around for a very, very short time. In the larger scheme of things, author Oliver Burkeman reminds us, “your own life will have been a minuscule flicker of near-nothingness.” For some, that awareness adds fuel to the legacy-loving fire. For others, it can “feel like putting down a heavy burden that most of us didn’t realize we were carrying in the first place.”

Acknowledging our insignificance can be freeing. It can free us from worrying so much about daily mishaps and obstacles, which aren’t important in the big scheme of things. And it can free us from an unrealistic sense of our own importance, a sense that drives us to feel we must accomplish great things — and leave a legacy that will remain after we’re gone.

I’m not saying this as someone who’s mastered this perspective; like everyone, I’m a work in progress. With a lot more progress to make than some people.

While I appreciate the perspective of acknowledging my insignificance, I’m only human. I still feel that pull to leave something positive behind — all the more so because I don’t have children.

At the same time, I know I’d be better served by focusing on what I’m creating now. When I’m on my deathbed, will I care more about what I’m leaving behind, or how I lived while I was here? Yes, these are related; in living a good life, you may leave a positive trace that lives on in the people you touched. But focusing on the present, on how we move through the world and treat people now, seems like a fine way to ensure that.

Not everyone thinks about leaving a trace. In fact, my friend with the legacy-focused financial planner hopes to “leave no trace” (no, she does not attend Burning Man). Yet she’s one of the most generous people I know and has a strong drive to help others, both at work and in her personal life. Despite herself, she’s leaving a trace — a positive one. But she’s not motivated by the thought of leaving a legacy.

She might be onto something.

I’m not saying that it’s bad to want to leave a legacy. There’s nothing wrong with wanting to leave a positive mark on the world that will last longer than us.

I’m not saying that we shouldn’t think about future generations. Quite the contrary: I wish that, as a society, we’d adopt the Seventh Generation principle and consider how our activities will affect future generations.

What I’m suggesting is that as individuals, we might be happier worrying less about leaving a legacy and focusing more on living a good life now. What I’m suggesting is that we follow Oliver Burkeman’s advice and relax, knowing that we “almost certainly won’t put a dent in the universe.” For a life to be well lived, he believes, it need not include “deeply impressive accomplishments, or … have a lasting impact on future generations.” Isn’t that a relief?

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Do you feel the pull to leave a lasting legacy? If so, what does that mean to you? Let me know in the comments!