I haven’t written any pondering for a while. It’s not that I haven’t been pondering—it’s just that I haven’t been organized. Writing, after all, is just organizing thoughts. Even stream-of-consciousness writing follows a path, though sometimes you don’t know where that path is going until you’re halfway down it.

Lately, though, I’ve been reluctant to commit to the process. Maybe it’s health-related. Probably it’s sloth. Writing, for me, has become tied to the idea of work, and I’ve been avoiding work like it’s a chore I don’t want to face.

But here’s the thing: the pressure to ponder builds. It’s like a pot of boiling water—cover it too long, and eventually, it’ll explode.

What’s been simmering for me is the concept of “legacy.” It’s a simple idea, really: the story of you, told by others, after you’re no longer around to screw it up. For most people, this happens when they’re dead—passed on, taken a dirt nap, keeled over. You get the idea.

There are exceptions, of course. People who vanish, go monastic, or just disappear from public view can’t change their legacy either. In either case, the story stops evolving because you’re no longer involved in it.

In a moment of clarity, I realized that legacy isn’t really your story—it’s the story of you as seen and told by others. Sure, you have influence over it—the things you say and do shape the narrative—but you don’t have complete control. And here’s the kicker: one careless moment can destroy the whole thing. That’s why “legacy” only really comes into focus after you’re gone.

Some people, near the end, see their legacy taking shape and try to tweak it—adopting puppies, making grand gestures of redemption, or showing up at family dinners after decades of absence. It rarely works. People cling to the stories they’ve already written about you, and no amount of puppy adoption will change that.

What’s fascinating is this: if you’re not known, you don’t have to worry about a legacy. But if you’re known for one defining moment—good or bad—that moment is your legacy. The reasons behind it, the context, the nuance? Those are usually lost. People will create their own rationale for your actions, and once they do, it’s hard to shake.

Having pondered this, I have turned my focus towards myself. What have I done to create “legacy”, intentional or not?

I have many chapters in my “book”, some overlapping, and some, only for a time (but deeply impactful). I have chapters on backpacking and sailing, which are no longer active. I have chapters on parenting which continues. And then there are chapters of making things, that comes and goes. 

What will be said of that? Curious or peripatetic? A collection of disjointed events, or a meaningful conclusion?

My life is not a three act play, it is not scripted. And only vaguely directional. My blog is titled “A Work Progressing…”. Towards what? And for what reason? I’m not sure I’ve communicated that clearly, certainly not clear enough for other people use as a foundation for the story they may tell.

Am I honest enough about wanting stories to be told about me? Am I satisfied with one or two words? Or do I want volumes? I have thousands of words in this blog… why?

In the end, it is always about meaning and desire, both nearly unknowable without a deep ponder.