There’s something abstract bubbling to the surface, and I’m attempting to pin it down. I’ve been contemplating the question of if and how to parent. It is a highly existential question, not purely logical. Other intelligence centers must be consulted. And of course, when contemplating birth, we come to the end of the circle and contemplate death, too. I find myself thinking about legacy and purpose.
Legacy is defined as “the long-lasting impact of particular events, actions, etc. that took place in the past, or of a person’s life.” So often, we talk about legacy as a stamp we can leave on the external world. Many of us, in life and in death, are looking for ways to prove we exist and ideally, that we matter. We want to assert ourselves on the world around us, hoping for a certain validation that our time on Earth means something.
But Life is entirely yours to assign meaning, or not. And rarely does legacy outlast us beyond a generation or two. So what if legacy is not about what I can make, or where I can leave behind evidence that I was here? What if legacy could be about receiving the experience?
I wonder if my purpose is to be a witness. To receive the world through my body. It sounds simple, yet something inside me unlocks when I consider it. To be witnessed is a profound experience. A thing or person or place becomes known when it is witnessed, and I think we all long to be understood – even the ocean and the flowers and the mountain. But to be a witness is equally glorious. When a person, place, or thing reveals itself to you, your act of witnessing becomes a mirror for its existence, and you’ve honored it if you can see it for what it really is. The long-lasting impact of my life as a witness would be that Life, in its many forms, was known, and often even loved.
If I am a devoted witness, then my life can be used to deeply see and admire the natural beauty of this planet. No one else has to know. It will still be real. My senses can absorb every experience, and I will remember. I can choose to honor the innate, imperfect beauty in human beings by simply witnessing, even when humanity is hard to watch.
If I’m a witness, then my life can be measured by experiences rather than accomplishments and accreditations. You could measure my life by the number of times I’ve watched a friend overcome by uproarious laughter, throwing their head back reflexively to hold joy as it erupts. You could measure my life by how many smile lines I gather, carved into my cheeks when I’m done, and each line would be evidence of how wide I grinned – how much satisfaction I felt as I responded to Life. My life could be measured by the memories I collect like sand dollars on the shore of a rocky beach, placing them in the bucket of my heart. They’re mine to keep.
Recently, a friend asked me what I would do if I became ill with a certain disease. He didn’t state it, but I immediately assumed that the hypothetical disease was incurable. I went on a long tangent about trusting life’s plan and surrendering when it’s my time. I said that I hope I live so fully that I have no attachments, no regrets, and can let go cleanly.
In hindsight, it sounded kind of lame to roll over like a dog and play dead. Why wouldn’t I fight back? I immediately surrendered. I suppose the melancholy inside of me hasn’t totally been eradicated even after years of dedication to self-improvement. And honestly, I still kind of love it. I still hold that ancient longing to dissolve into the peace of nothingness. I want nothing more than to be reunited with the endless, infinite, vast universe – to be welcomed back into the void and be held by oneness when it’s my time.
But is that how I would actually respond? If anyone else in my life was dying, I would fight for them, and I would want them to fight for themselves. I would do everything I could to prop up their perseverance. But for myself, I laid my fate on Life’s doorstep. I’m afraid of losing my loved ones more than losing myself.
And yet, to be a devoted witness means I cannot look away — not even from the parts of me that would rather disappear. Perhaps the only purpose of life is to experience it fully. We are given the chance – a fleeting moment – to feel everything, even when it’s hard. Especially then. And be changed forever. And then change again, and again.
At this moment, I am feeling so much trust in whatever Life has planned for me. I’m not holding tightly to a strong opinion about what is right or wrong. There is no right or wrong – there is only resonance. I can trace that resonance as it moves through my body, surging in my veins, and follow the call. One day, I will know what I want. Until then, I’m exploring and experimenting with outcomes and treating every option as a real possibility. And on another day still, I’m allowed to want something different.
As a witness, I want to be fully satiated by this experience. It will not last forever. Nothing does. I want to commit to every experience Life offers up while it graces me with its presence.