Tuesday, October 2, 2012


Hmm. What will people remember about me after I'm gone?

Picasso, all those pictures he created -- Rodin. his  sculpture -- is "The Kiss" his legacy?

Shakespeare -- comedies, tragedies, all those plays about Kings.   Beethoven symphonies, concertos, umpteen works of music?

I danced.

Sometimes, in an entranced state of energy, where I was not aware of ME,  but within each moment, the feeling of the movement in relation to the music was out -- out and beyond the stage, in the air, in the theater, in the audience.

How do I know that?    I just know it.

I tried to do a lot of other things with my husband -- off and on Broadway plays, a school, and some  community projects that happened, but went nowhere, except that got me into writing more and more.

Sometimes, when I was writing WOMAN OF THE CENTURY, that thereness, that intense being on the moment at the moment was there.   I wasn't writing about an idea, the idea was writing itself.    How do I know that?  Because I remember those places in my book, where I was in the world I had been creating, and I knew.  I wasn't Emily the writer, I was there at the moment, in the place, in the space, in the mind, and heart of someone who'd gone back in time and was there in the scene.

Occasionally, in relationships with dancers I've worked with, I have had that sense of utter communication  -- that I was saying something to the soul of the person with whom I was sharing a moment in his life and my life.

I've even  had that powerful sense of touching, reaching, being deeply, intensely close to someone, a tech person  I've been working with,  on the phone.

What is this on the moment stuff -- this utter communication -- an idea writing itself, a movement I was doing burning itself into the minds of people who were watching me so they feel as if they're dancing?

These feelings, these remembered moments -- why are they so important?  Because, after I am no longer a living person on the earth, I think I will become part of another person who is still alive, and here in the now, and my moment that's part of them will affect what they see, hear, touch, feel, sense, think.

The legacy of Einstein is strong. The magic sound that Horowitz  created,  the doings of Ghandi, Martin Luther King... FDR,  JFK, RFK -- that's the legacy of famous people who have said or done  something that affected you in your life.

So,  what is my legacy?   I'm thinking  it's what I communicated to some people about themselves.  that I saw them; really saw who they were and gave them that -- "She saw me -- she knew me, she knows me!" --  a very strong sense that they were perceived.

I am not thrilled about that.   But I think that's what will be remembered after I am gone. I gave some people recognition   that makes them like themselves, respect themselves more for what they are, and gives them a legacy to pass onto their children.

Wait a minute. what about our  building ...
Isn't that a legacy?    The building that my mom bought for us is -- isn't that  something our son will inherit?

My rings -- they are real jewels --  they certainly cost enough.

My 80 carat Amethyst ring with it's cluster of Diamonds, my 40 carat Acquamarine covers two fingers,  the cluster of Opals and Diamonds.

Oh my goodness, my 6.5 carat Emerald.

My paintings --  my favorite orange city  -- people have wanted to buy it, and .. gee I have at least 16 other paintings ...

And.  my books ...

If all this stuff my legacy, it's an okay pile.  I just wish there was more --more deeds, more tangible  doings that could be remembered, replayed, and enjoyed, but ...  Well, I danced, and wrote, painted, and oh my, tried all sots of big deal fizzling  projects with my husband, and parented ... our son will enjoy the legacy of  building full of things he can pass on to others with stories about his mom and his dad.  

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