You Don’t Have to Leave a Legacy

(At Least Not the Kind You’ve Been Told to Chase) Let me set something straight right out of the gate:

I believe in legacy. I believe in what we leave behind—the words, the memories, the imprints of our choices on the people we love. I talk about it all the time. On my podcast. With my clients. In the spaces where death is real and raw.

But let me also be clear: The kind of legacy I’m talking about? It’s not the one you’ve been sold.

Legacy Is Not a Monument

We’ve been taught that legacy is about being remembered by the world. That it’s big. Loud. Permanent. It’s buildings with your name on them. Charities founded in your honor. Quotes printed on Etsy mugs.

But that’s not legacy. That’s marketing.

Real legacy is personal. Intimate. Invisible to anyone who wasn’t close enough to feel it. It’s the recipe you passed down. The way your laugh lives in your daughter’s throat. The voicemail your best friend still keeps. The ritual your partner still does because you taught them how to feel safe.

Stop Chasing Legacy Like It’s a Brand

This culture has twisted the idea of legacy into output. Did you create enough? Earn enough? Change the world?

We’re taught that we need to “make an impact” to justify our existence. That dying without a legacy is somehow tragic. But here’s the truth:

You don’t need to be remembered by everyone. You just need to be known by the right ones.

And that has nothing to do with status or visibility. That has everything to do with being present while you're here.

What You Leave Behind Is Who You Were

If you’ve been with me for any length of time, you’ve heard me say it: Get your shit together. Clean up the mess you don’t want someone else to sort through. Name the people in the photos. Label the recipes. Write the note. Record the video. Make the damn playlist.

Not because you’re trying to be immortal. But because it’s an act of love. Because it’s your way of saying, “I was here, and I cared.”

That’s legacy.

Not ego. Not permanence. Intention.

If You Leave Quietly, That’s Okay Too

Here’s where the nuance lives: You’re allowed to leave quietly. You’re allowed to not curate anything. You’re allowed to be tired, to do the bare minimum, to just let go.

Not everyone wants to craft a memory book. Not everyone has people to leave things to. Not everyone wants to perform presence on the way out.

And guess what? That’s okay.

You still mattered. You were still real. You still changed the shape of the world just by breathing.

Final Word

So yes—think about your legacy. But make it yours. Make it soft. Make it weird. Make it messy and full of meaning. Or don’t.

You don’t have to be remembered by the masses to leave something that echoes. You just have to be honest while you’re here.

That’s the kind of legacy no building can hold.