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If my life were a football game, I would be passed halftime and well into the 3rd Quarter. So, I occasionally wonder about my legacy.
Werner Erhard said that when you get that you choose who we are going to be in any moment, then making a difference either big or small becomes your authentic self-expression. That seems to be common sense. That’s soulful sense.
Of my possible legacies, I would hope I will have made a difference on some scale for others. I’m eternally grateful for the profound difference others have been for me like Sensei, John, and Mom. I know I only have a finite amount of time. During that time, I wish to pass on what others have been for me. That I made a difference for others would be the graceful legacy.
I still wonder, “How will I be remembered?” “How do I wish to be remembered?” Legacy is not about me, per se. How will that play out? Funny: by definition, I’ll never know. Others will define my legacy; it’s out of my hands. My surmisings are just that. Nothing significant.
I love Josh Boone’s “The Fault in Our Stars” based on John Green’s Bestselling book. “The Fault in Our Stars” tells the story of two teens with terminal cancer, Hazel Grace played by Shailene Woodley, and Augustus “Gus” played by Ansel Elgort. Theirs is the modern star-crossed love story. They discover their infinity in their finite numbered days.
“The Fault in Our Stars” is both profoundly sad and joyous. Watching the movie reduces me to “a puddle of tears.” Werner said that profound sense of sadness heals, makes us whole. That profound sense of sadness allows us to experience life, and not resist life.
After recovering from his hospital crisis, Gus and Hazel Grace go on a picnic at their favorite park. Gus laments, “I wanted to be remembered as special… I wanted to be a hero.” Angered, Hazel Grace gives Gus his “Come to Jesus” talk.
Hazel Grace Lancaster: You know, this obsession you have, with being remembered?
Augustus Waters: Don’t get mad.
Hazel Grace Lancaster: I am mad! I’m mad because I think you’re special. And isn’t that enough? You think that the only way to lead a meaningful life is for everyone to remember you. For everyone to love you! Guess what, Gus – this is your life! This is all you get! You get me, and you get your family and you get this world, and that’s it! And if that’s not enough for you, then I’m sorry, but it’s not nothing. Because I love you. And I’m going to remember you.
We get what we get. That’s “not nothing”. Cherish those who will remember you, who love you. Not the number. Be grateful for the lives shared. Those I’ve been fortunate enough to make a difference shall define my destiny. Hopefully, they will remember fondly for the most part. That’s not nothing.
How do I wish to be remembered? Perhaps, that I was a good son. I’ve been blessed with many amazing relationships with those I love, who are like family. That’s not nothing.
I’ve distinguished being very good in my career, not great. I did not achieve the kind of greatness that I wished for. Oh, well. Throughout my professional career, I’ve accomplished a great many things working with amazing, talented people. I’ve had awesome mentors. I think I’ve been able to return the favor to others as well.
Surprisingly, I’ve discovered joy as an author self-publishing my first book. I’ve no delusions of it becoming a bestseller on Amazon. I wrote the book for those who might be going through a challenging time: There are always alternative ways to look at life, even in your darkest nights. Maybe, I was able to make a difference for some. That the sun shines radiantly for the new day.
I discover my humanity in talking or corresponding with those for whom my book made a difference on some scale. That was my dream, my purpose.
Of all that I’ve accomplished, I want to be remembered as Aikido Sensei. Many Senseis are greater. Teaching Aikido is my distinct privilege that has filled my soul.
Recently, my Aikido buddy Ron and I had lunch with our late Sensei’s wife Alyce. A wonderful time spent together. Alyce told Ron and me some stories about Sensei, we had no idea. Although Dan passed away about 4 years ago, we still call him “Sensei”. Alyce gets what Sensei meant for Ron and me. He will always be Sensei.
Over the years, I’ve been able to give away what Sensei taught me. Sensei and I taught Jackson when he first started Aikido. Jackson and I were training in an Aikido Seminar. Jackson showed me how to do the technique we were practicing. We’re both the same rank now. He’s now greater than I am; now he teaches me. We had the most fun practicing together giving each other our best throws.
Life comes full circle. When Jackson says, “Thank you” for what I taught him along the way, that gives me my life.
I want to be remembered as the pretty good Sensei. I wish for those I had the privilege to teach to be greater than I am. That has been my life’s gift.
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Photo credit: Pixabay