I find it fascinating what works I put on here get traction and what works get less. My last poem, which leans slightly on the sillier side - characteristic of my most popular pieces - gets comparatively little fanfare compared to other recent pieces.
Yet, a darker more brooding piece like It Was No Accident - which admittedly saw a lot less time going into its composition and that I was less satisfied with - becomes one of the most popular pieces on here.
As I’ve come to discover, this isn’t just a phenomena exclusive to me and the creatives of our age, but it extends well into the creatives and figures of the past.
T.S. Elliot - one of the most celebrated poets of the 20th Century - found it curious that most people knew him for his poetry, despite producing relatively little poetry compared to other contemporaries and poets. In a letter to his former Harvard professor, J.H. Woods, he writes:
"My reputation in London is built upon one small volume of verse, and is kept up by printing two or three more poems in a year."
A.A. Milne considered himself a playwright and essayist above everything else - and yet, most people could not name a single play or essay he wrote. Winnie The Pooh, however, has become a household name in the UK and many parts of the world, despite being completely outside the wheelhouse of his previous works.
Meanwhile, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle had the following to say about his Sherlock Holmes work, across various letters to his mother:
“I think of slaying Holmes… and winding him up for good and all. He takes my mind from better things.”
“I must save my mind for better things, even if it means I must bury my pocketbook with him.”
“I have had such an overdose of him that I feel towards him as I do towards pâté de foie gras, of which I once ate too much…”
As well as the following:
“If in 100 years I am only known as the man who invented Sherlock Holmes then I will have considered my life a failure.”
At least now he has passed and will never have the horror of discovering the truth.
All this makes me ask the question of myself: What would I like to be remembered for? In some ways, it’s futile thinking about it: other people will choose to remember me however they see fit, and I can’t make them “remember me” in a certain way. Sure, I can make wills and make my case for what I think is important from my legacy to be carried on - but I have no real guarantee that anyone is truly going to honour that. In other ways, however, it’s an important question. I can still influence how I’m likely to be remembered through the quality of my character and the things I accomplish in my lifetime. My mission is to give myself the best odds possible of a good legacy, and then let history decide what happens.
This has implications beyond me and you as individuals, scaling up to societal and generational levels. If people can’t control how they’ll be remembered, then neither can those influencing the world in more overt ways. The difference is that their legacies are written not just in books or poems, but in policies, conflicts, and the conditions people are forced to live under.
This leads me to wonder: What are those complicit in genocide and crimes against humanity hoping to be remembered for? I struggle to think that poisoning and killing a bunch of people is a “good way” to be remembered - and I would be surprised if they didn’t see that.
And clearly, they’re thinking about their successors through schemes like the WEF’s Young Global Leaders to groom them philosophically (and perhaps sexually, too). In what world do they think the prospect of continuing to create graveyards in the Middle East, or taxing people to death while they suffer increasingly ill health, or continue to strip territory of natural resources for the benefit of globalist corporations, is a good thing to advertise to young people? And in what world do young people think that’s a great legacy to inherit and continue?
Maybe they’re of the opinion that they can’t control how they’ll be remembered - so they’ll indulge in the most immoral behaviours and practises possible. Or maybe they have a very twisted view about who they should be serving, and why. Maybe they believe they can outrun judgement, or reshape it in their favour. I don’t know if I’ll ever have a complete answer. Regardless, if history is anything to go by, legacy has no interest in conforming to those who demand it do so. I can’t see humanity in 1000 years time - or even 100 years time - feeling inclined to see their actions and their results in the same way.
Which leaves the rest of us with a quieter, but arguably more important truth: we are all building something we won’t be around to explain. That can be a frightening prospect - until you realise that it’s not always your job to explain your actions.
Your actions and creations alone will speak and justify themselves, if you let them. Even if Conan Doyle, Milne and Eliot didn’t expect their creations to garner the interest that they did, they were successful precisely because they contained a truth or idea that resonated with people. It doesn’t disregard the other works they completed - in fact, it might even be their experience writing in formats other than what they were famous for that gave them the ability to create something that would truly stand out.
I don’t believe these acts of artistic creation are ever done in vain. The pursuit of finding truth and beauty through poetry, linguistics and language is one I am proud to take on, and one that I know can bring long-lasting benefits for people well after I am gone. The words of Emily Dickinson give me comfort in this regard:
“If I can stop one heart from breaking, I shall not live in vain: If I can ease one life the aching, or cool one pain, or help one fainting robin unto his nest again, I shall not live in vain.”
Maybe they can give you comfort, too.
Your Turn
Thank you for making time to read these reflections. Leave a comment and let me know: how would you like to be remembered?
For a few different reasons, I have sadly had to cancel my appearances at both Confluence and the Cheshire Wellness Festival. For any of you hoping to catch my offerings there, I hope you are able to instead join me for my free presentation tomorrow (Wednesday 8th April, 7pm). It’s all about how language can change physical reality, shape the narratives we tell of ourselves, and why poetry may be the most under-utilised tool in creating the world in which we wish to inhabit. There’s still time to sign up using the button below:
If you’d like to support my work financially, please consider making a one-time donation or getting a copy of my poetry book, Go Forth, Butterfly! - these small things really helps to keep my efforts going, and you can do both of these at the same time as signing up for the webinar, if you so wish.
And finally, if you’re in need of poetic support in dealing with the challenges you’re facing in life, I can help.
I look forward to bringing you more soon.
With gratitude,
Tom
Correction: The original article originally referred to A.A. Milne as a “she”. Not quite sure how I ended up with that despite knowing the opposite is true, and how I missed it when editing and proofing. It has since been fixed here.
You might want to correct this. Being a librarian I have to point out that A. A. Milne was male, not female.