Legacy
Think your life is meaningless? Feel like you’re wasting your time away in your FT role? Watching Kate’s boat trip on Instagram while you’re in a poorly lit cubicle? Same. But maybe legacy isn’t always about the big, glamorous wins. Maybe it’s already being written every day.
I’ve always seen “leave it better than you found it” as more than a catchphrase. It’s generational. Each era did the best with what it had. War as a brutal means to peace, the internet as a solution for slowness and disconnection, even if it created its own monsters. Every generation complains about the next, but beneath the noise, each one pushes something forward. Today, younger people are sharper, more politically aware, and less willing to settle… I admire that. They’re already fighting like hell to make the world better.
For me personally? Legacy is messy. I had the cookie-cutter suburban childhood: cul-de-sac, pool, church on Sundays. Now, I’m in an apartment with my girlfriend, working as a marketing manager at a seafood company. On paper, it’s fine. But deep down, I want more. Fame. Recognition. I want to shift the tides of the world for better. Average scares me to death. Not because there’s anything wrong with average, it’s actually spectacular, but because I can’t shake the hunger to push bigger.
Here’s the thing, though: legacy isn’t only massive. It’s not just fame, wealth, or reshaping history. There’s beauty in the everyday. Every fish photo, label design, and sales asset I put out at work? That’s part of my legacy too. Healthy, premium seafood on the table of a family I’ll never meet. A story told for a brand that might outlast me. It’s small, but it matters.
And yeah, I wrestle with it daily. There are days I ask, “what am I even doing with my life?” I hold myself to impossible standards. If I’m off for a second, I feel behind everyone else. But if I take my own advice, I’d say the “small” work builds the larger legacy. Be happy in the moment but keep building something greater. Even if that’s just stacking small wins until the hunger forces you toward the next big project.
The bigger backdrop, though, is that legacy is fragile. One generation’s innovation can be the next generation’s nightmare. Think about AI. Right now, we’re praising its efficiency, optimization, and scale. But what if Ultron was right? What if, in our hunger to “leave it better,” we accidentally hand the whole game over to the machines? If that happens, maybe the best legacy we can leave behind is the lesson that good intentions don’t guarantee good outcomes. Legacy is built on questioning what you’re building and who it really serves. And sometimes, a little doomsday humor is the only way to process how serious it actually is.
If you’re reading this right now in that cold cubicle wondering if your life matters, here’s my answer: it does. Are you feeding your family? Being there for your partner? Playing with your kids? Showing up for friends? Even at work, are you the one your team can count on? That’s legacy. That’s you leaving something behind that shapes others.
As an entrepreneur once said (quoting his dad): “Life is what happens to you when you’re on your way to doing something else.” Legacy is the story you’re writing right now, not some future chapter you’re waiting for.
So yeah, I still want fame. I still want to move the needle at scale. But the truth? Legacy is already happening everyday. It’s how we love, how we work, how we show up — and how we leave things just a little bit better than when we found them.
See you on TV.
written, Out Loud
