Walking, Talking Libraries

When my father died some years ago that was the first time I had the visceral realization that when a person dies it’s as if a library of unique experiences and knowledge dies as well. I had that very same feeling when my brother died recently. No one will ever live again (nor has ever lived before) that will have that singular conglomeration of knowledge and experience. We are each a walking, talking library of unique knowledge and experience. Let’s respect and celebrate that.


So much I’d love to talk about on this. It feels “stark” and not to my own lived experience that when a person dies their knowledge dies. Perhaps that is my “defense” against feeling like I gotten “leave a legacy” or do / record / write / build a monument.

Yet, each day my sense of myself (and you and we) is that we’re definitely expressing unique heartistry and creation in each and every micro-now. Also that we’re conspiring with ancestors and aliveness of less matter and more light that are part of the continuity of us, and them, and me.


I like that…I will consider that more…thank you.


I love that expression too… less matter and more light… and the light matters more! :sparkling_heart:

I’ve been tuning into this, too, since my “chosen dad” died last summer, and I wish he’d been able to share more of his stories and Alaskan smoke-jumping adventures with my kiddos… I don’t recall many clearly enough to retell, which makes me sad…

And yet, I do carry his “light” with me and share that with my kids, in that his presence in my life deeply changed who I am and how I move through the world, which continues to impact those I’m in relationship with Now.

I’m tuning into this more, too, as my mom gets older, and she is FULL of amazing stories, of times and places that will never be quite the same… like fly-in-only Alaskan wilderness kayaking adventures before cell phones! I find that I want to make more time for her stories to be shared… yet not at the expense of making new living memories, too!

And, above all, I trust that it’s all perfect, however things play out, and whatever we choose to make of our sacred time together, in these bodies and beyond… There’s beauty in honoring the transience and perfection and humanity of us all.


I’m aware of carrying the light of my father and brother…my mother feels different to me in that regard. She died when I was 19 so I feel like there wasn’t enough years, or maybe not the right years, to really get to know her with the sensibilities and perspectives of an adult. Also she was an alcoholic so it wasn’t an easy relationship.

My original post in this thread still feels ‘true’ to me as well…that when any individual dies it’s like the library of Alexandria burning down in a small sense. There will with out a doubt be unique perspectives and learnings and experiences gone forever.

And that’s not an entirely sad thought for me, it’s also an incredibly potent thought that fills me with awe and wonderment and it humbles me. I used to wonder when I was out in the woods if where I put my foot down was the first time a human foot every stepped in that exact spot…despite all the millions of previous human beings that have walked this planet it seems to me very possible that I was the first to put my foot on the earth in that exact place. That fills me with an indescribable sensation…much like the sensation that ripples through me when I consider that my father and brother were unique footprints of experience and knowledge…as we all are. We are all beautiful mysteries.


Brought tears. Beautiful thread here, all.