A Minimalism-Inspired Approach to Achievement
On Leaving a Legacy the Right Way
Legacy is a strange word. It’s an idea that gets tossed around a lot when people start discussing their dreams.
‘I want a leave a legacy. Like Prince. Like Jobs. Like Kobe’
‘I want to be remembered. My work needs to be immortal’
We, humans, are geared towards achievement. Our lives are composed of goals and our individual journeys towards those goals. We feel good when we are productive and of value, and that produces a high is what we call motivation.
In relation, legacy is what we call the effects of a particularly important achievement from a, particularly important person. It’s an achievement at the highest level: what we all aim for with our work, right?
I think it’s that desire for legacy — for achievement on a grandiose scale, for widespread recognition — is what fuels us to keep climbing, keep wanting more. It’s what compels us to gun for top universities all throughout our childhood. It’s what pushes us to go for gold in our competitions. It’s what motivates us to keep grinding upwards on the corporate ladder in hopes of reaching a position of significance and memorability.
In our minds, more achievement is conducive to more happiness.
We have an obsession with legacy and achievement.
Our relationship with legacy perfectly describes our relationship with achievement in today’s age. In fact, a legacy has become less of an ideal and more of a necessity. We feed our kids the dreams of entrepreneurs and the wondrous lifestyles of multimillionaires, expecting the next Steve Jobs out of everybody.
It’s a voice that says: ‘You young people, so full of potential. You guys better go out there and achieve. It would be a waste if you didn’t.’
At my university, I feel a buzz in the masses of people hustling to their important classes and their important meetings and their important events — there’s a palpable feeling of urgency in the air. An urgency to… do more.
The desire to do more is eternally ingrained in our mindsets, further amplified by our education and the media we see on a day to day basis.
Why do we want it?
That is why I urge you to take a step back and ask yourself — why?
Why do you want to achieve what you set out to achieve?
Here’s a sobering thought — nothing we do or can do will be immortal. Take hip-hop music for example, a genre that boasts many classic albums widely regarded by many, including me.
Consider this: classics thought to be evergreen by today’s hip-hop listeners, albums such as Illmatic by Nas or My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy by Kanye West, will become a distant memory in a century. In two or three, they will take up maybe half a sentence in a textbook, skimmed over by the uninvested readers of the future.
My point is, aiming to be the one at the top will not make you immortal, nor will it give you nirvana. In that same vein, perhaps it’s not the amount of people who know your name, but the quality of impact that you have on the people who DO know your name.
My minimalism-inspired approach to legacy & achievement.
Personally, I strive to take a minimalism-inspired approach to achievement. The goal is to not raveningly hunt for more achievement*,* but to mindfully work at meaningful achievement.
My grandmother was a teacher of the Russian language for decades, spending her time as a professor at a small university in China. While it was grueling work, largely unrecognized, she was able to impact her students on a profound level.
The compassion she showed for her students and curiosity she harbored in her past studies is apparent even today. Every time I visit her, we’ll often run into her past students of 20–30 years, each gushing about how memorable their time in her class was and sending along with their best wishes to our family.
As a senior who radiates positivity and youth, my grandma is the prime example of making an impact in a unique and sincere way.
You don’t need MORE achievement, you need meaningful achievement.
These days, I’m a lot more purposeful on what I’m working on.
Recruiting for a prestigious job or aiming for the first place prize in a competition are obvious goals to set your sights upon, but once you have climbed to the peak of that mountain, will you be satisfied with what you have accomplished? Whether the answer is yes or no, I urge you to consider these thoughts whenever you decide to commit to a path.
There is a pleasure to be derived from simple achievements, always. Learning to draw, even if you have no reason to draw, is an achievement. Posting on Youtube, even if you have 200 subscribers, is an achievement. Starting a small nonprofit, even if it doesn’t gain state-wide or even city-wide recognition, is an achievement.
In my free time recently, I’ve taken up the guitar. I don’t plan on doing anything or going anywhere with it — it’s just something that I like to do. Perhaps one day, I’ll play for my kids and teach them some of my favorite songs. Isn’t that leaving a legacy in its own right?
You don’t need a million people to know your name if it is just for the sake of knowing your name and nothing else. You can leave a legacy worth singing about by making a deep and long-lasting impact on just your community, or just your family.
Sometimes, less is more, and that deeper connection you feel through your achievements will bring you more joy and more contentment than the everlasting trek upwards towards a hollow promise of happiness.
That is all.
