Legacy is an operative word and one that is apt to be glossed over.
We choose to be blind to the reality of our own mortality – choosing to live life at a leisurely pace instead of being governed by a pressing sense of urgency which would inform us to treat it as the borrowed commodity that it is.
We will inhabit the confines of death far longer than that of the living.
We stand on the shoulders of those who have come before us and that collective memory should serve as a guiding principle of sorts.
Being a parent is a role that any human being who is fortunate enough to do so – steps into without the benefit of an owner’s manual and admittedly I faltered many times in my tenure, but I always felt compelled to pick up and shoulder on.
I’ve learned that there is power in the ability to bask in my shortcomings, failures and contradictions.
Serving as a proverbial lighthouse so that what I am and what I am not, can be improved upon rather than duplicated – this is the foundation of legacy.
Speaking truth to ourselves so that our children can be empowered by it is essential.
When we do it selflessly in their name we can ensure that our future is bright and that our foundation (legacy) can maintain the weight of what will be rendered.
That being said.
There is a trifecta of spirit that we are at war with.
An unholy trinity of –
haughtiness, ignorance and slothfulness prove to be formidable foes, but instead of staring these spirits down we choose to abdicate our power to them in the form of derelict parenting.
If we don’t instruct our children with a sense of duty to give back more than what they extract from the world that they inhabit and to take responsibility for their actions instead of deflecting the blame.
If we fail in compelling them to be inspired, contagiously influential and purpose driven – even though we may struggle in the application of it in our own lives.
That makes us criminals of the highest order.
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