I will not die an unlived life.

I will not live in fear of falling or catching fire.

I choose to inhabit my days,

to allow my living to open me,

to make me less afraid, more accessible,

to loosen my heart until it becomes a wing, a torch, a promise.

I choose to risk my significance,

to live so that which came to me as seed goes to the next as blossom,

and that which came to me as blossom, goes on as fruit.

~Dawna Markove

A couple of years ago, on a college trip for my middlest, I found myself at The Metropolitan Museum of Art, perusing rows and rows and rows of furniture and family portraits encased in glass. Rooms full of physical evidence of someone who once lived. I imagine that the archives held even more.

I noticed the way that these items, collected over the course of a lifetime, or generations, failed to convey the story, the essence, of those lives. I wondered what those owners would think about the fate of these personal items. Empty monuments.

I have felt the same way when I have walked through estate sales. Noticing the tension … these items so carefully accumulated by the person deceased, only to be sold on a decreasing price tag as the sale goes on.

I recently read a book about the Vanderbilts. About the colossal mansions they built, many of which were torn down within decades of when they were finished. These mansions were symbols of prominence, place and wealth. And yet the ones that still remain are no longer occupied by their descendants.

This is not a statement about the very real impact that the transfer of generational wealth (or lack thereof) has on the generations that follow. There is no question that policies that limited this wealth transfer over the course of our history still reverberate; giving blind credence to the idea that we live in a “meritocracy” and if you just are willing to work hard enough, you too can achieve “the American dream.”

And still, money and things come and go. In many ways, they are just as impermanent as our corporeal bodies.

I have left two careers with a broken heart, for different reasons. Each time I knew it was time to go. And each time I was faced with the question of what remained of my time as a leader there; watching as the strategies and teams I built were disassembled, restructured and reorganized with someone else’s imprint.

It was then that I realized that the only thing you “take with you” when you leave a place is the impact you had on the people, but even that is no longer yours.

People will forget what you said, people will forget what you did. But people will never forget how you made them feel. ~Maya Angelou

I had the opportunity to speak on a panel about legacy at the last session for Let Her Speak’s graduating cohort in the Let Her Lead program a few weeks ago. And I shared my assessment that your legacy is the nervous system imprint you leave on other people.

Your nervous system is constantly scanning the horizon for signs of threat or safety. And everyone else’s is too. My nervous system is perceiving your nervous system before you say a word. And vice versa. You are leaving a nervous system impression every where you go.

Sometimes legacy begins with “not this.” I was a cycle-breaker before I knew the term. Hell bent on writing a new story for my children, even before I understood what trauma does to the nervous system, and how those imprints weave their way through the generations until someone turns and says “this line ends with me.” I could not have anticipated the journey that would unfold from this heartfelt desire to carve a new path.

What is the legacy you are leaving behind?

What is the imprint you are making on your children, your partner, your peers, your team, your friends?

What will they remember about you?

Will you pass down the nervous system blueprints you inherited?

Will you allow the perpetrators of purposeful dysregulation to hijack you
presence, peace and personal power?

Or do you feel called to write a new story … for yourself, for your family, or the collective?

And if you do envision a more beautiful future, what do you imagine?

As always, I would love to hear from you in response to these prompts. Feel free to respond to this email.

Love,

Booth

p.p.s. I am looking for four individuals to join a six-month small group experience in which we will work with your unique nervous system blueprint to help you step more fully into your own power, voice and agency. If you are interested, reply to this email.

p.s. If you desire 1:1 support in reclaiming or stepping more fully into your own light, customized to your unique nervous system blueprint, somatic coaching might be for you. Check out my current coaching offerings or schedule a Discovery Call.