Looking through photos of relatives that have passed brings so many questions to mind; what did she dream of? Who did he love most? What sacrifices did she make? What tragedies shaped his life? In what ways did this unknown ancestor influence my present life?
If no one remembers who you were and what you were inside, does this mean that your thoughts and dreams evaporate when your time on Earth is over?
Is this why I blog? To be remembered? To adamantly declare that "I will NOT be forgotten! I will not be reduced to a half-dozen, unlabeled, fuzzy photographs in a box in someone's attic. My presence on this planet will have an impact because I write these words in this little box, from my little office." Like Independence Day, "We will not go quietly into the night!"
I suppose I am no better than the very people I (internally) mock. The ones who desperately purchase anti-aging creams and Botox in an attempt to retain their youth. The people who say "IF they die..." instead of "WHEN I die..." People who cannot accept that our bodies are temporary (so incredibly temporary) modes of transportation for our spirit's stream of consciousness.
I suppose that in writing my little escapades on my little blog in my little fraction of the internet, I am desperately carving my name on the wall and screaming "I WAS HERE!" No matter how I sugar-coat my reasons for blogging (making friends! recording our lives for my children! parental camaraderie!) I must honestly admit that it all boils down to the same need we all have which is to know that we MATTERED.
Don't you... Forget about me...
Yes, yes. I know. I MATTER. I matter to my family. I matter to my friends. I love them all, and they love me. I am blessed in knowing this fact so confidently. That is not in question. But, the older I get, the more I feel the need to make a more permanent mark upon the outside world. A painting, an article, an accomplishment of some sort that causes me to stand out from the rest. Something that proclaims "She was here! She was fabulous and ordinary and flawed and HUMAN. She dreamed and loved. Her heart expanded and fractured. And there will never be another exactly like her!"
I don't want to go quietly into the night...
Posts
Poetry Month in our Homeschool
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Sure, you *can *force a kid to read a book. Any book, actually. But you
*can't* force a child to love to read. You can't push and push literature
on them a...
11 years ago
24 comments:
I get that.
I have realized, over the past few years, that I am starting to get old. I still FEEL 18, but I'm not anymore. My hips ache and it's getting harder to shed the extra pounds I seem to pack on and on and on.
I wonder why there is such a firm divide between mind and body. Why can't I feel my age, instead of being shocked at who I see in the mirror? Who the heck IS this person?
So, I blog...because my words are still 18. My imagination, my outlook.
This is how I want to be remembered.
There's this song I keep hearing on the radio (I don't even know who sings it), and the chorus goes: "it’s not who you knew and it’s not what you did. It’s how you lived."
It gets me every time. And blogging is a way to capture just how we lived. To proclaim (as you mentioned), "I was here, and the ride was fabulous!"
Something I think every single person on earth can identify with. Or, "I am, I cried, to no one there ..." XO.
Oh I loved this post!!! So real and so true for so many of us. I think you need to check out my sister's blog Theological Musings, you think a lot like my sister and I do.
You can find her at http://bevthinksthis.blogspot.com
Love this post! Woke me up for a sec!
I don't care that I know Im getting older I'm still buying the anti aging crap just to make me feel better ;)]
Hope your having an awesome weekend!
It's not the creams that I mock, it's the names "anti-aging" and "youth serums" and such. As though you can "anti-age"...
Yeah. I totally get that. Totally.
Thank you for visiting my blog today -- I so look forward to reading yours!
I get it. I feel exactly the same. Perhaps a bit more so - I have more time in, than you do - and therefore, likely a lot less time left. And I want to make my mark before I, too, am reduced to a fading memory.
I've been thinking a lot about mortality lately like . . . will I be around when my baby graduates college or gets married. But then again, I could be gone tomorrow. You just never know.
i so love this post.
i love this post and often wonder about such things. i have too much to say, (dammit! *shakes fist*)to not blog, really. i do it for me, as an accomplishment, and i love to share.
(nice to meet you!)
I read a book a while back and the premise was that there was a place your soul went after you died. Sort of a holding tank between earth and beyond, whatever that was. People stayed in this place as long as they were still remembered by someone on earth. It was a very interesting concept. I can't recommend the book, because it wasn't especially well realized, but it really got me to thinking.
How long would I last? What mark have I left. It's a tough one.
PS - I can totally hear Bill Pullman saying that line.
This reminds me of a poem I once heard called "The Dash" by Linda Ellis. It's about what you want the dash (the little line in between your birth to death date) to stand for. Very inspiring!
i'm counting on my children's keeping my memory alive. either that, or never dying.
I understand this completely.
I think I blog so that my kids will have a "log" of what I thought about, struggled with, tried to do and did with/for them. It's not a perfect roadmap but maybe some insite into why they are who they are. And to have some laughs.
Thanks for the post.
DiggyDaddy
Yep:)
Oh tracey, now I'm gonna be singing that damned song all day. *uhhh*
Anyhow...you are very nostalgic with this one! I blog not that others will remember me, but that I can remember. lol.
But I just loved this post. Especially the If/When I die part. Very thought provoking. I always say WHEN. And I enjoy every wrinkle and every line. Most of them were caused by laughing so I think that means I'm a happy wrinkled lady. lol.
Beautiful post Tracey!
I tell people I blog because I don't scrapbook. There are so many things I want to remember and be able to share with the girls when they are older. I'm a writer by nature and profession. I know the memory fades, but words remain.
I feel the same way.
http://bit.ly/9TWtdh
I think you hit the nail on the head. I think that is why I blog. I wonder if my words will matter to my kids...grandkids even should I be so lucky...but I already know that they matter to my husband and parents. So that's enough for me. For now :)
Excellent insight Tracey! Amen.
Oooo I like it. But ummm, now I have that song stuck in my head. boo! :)
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