Our Words Are Our Legacy

Years ago, I toured Orlando's only graveyard, which highlighted the stark contrast between American history and that of other cultures. The tour was hosted by the graveyard's sexton, who also served as Orlando's historian.

Instead of telling ghost stories, the historian shared Orlando's history through the stories contained on the grave markers. Despite living in Orlando nearly my entire life, I didn't know most of the stories he shared. Orlando's history is largely lost to time for most of its residents.

Orlando was formed in 1843 and originally named after a murderer named Jernigan. But in the years since, the history has been torn down and replaced by something more modern. As the historian put it, this tearing down and rebuilding happens about every thirty or so years, so most of Orlando ends up being pretty young.

It wasn't until recently that I realized this lack of history has a bigger implication in American culture. We are focused on ourselves, on our experiences. Some might call this a self-centered worldview. Others might say that's the definition of American individuality. Either way, this understanding is ingrained in American culture. This contrast became even more apparent when I reflected on my experiences in Japan, a country that deeply honors its past.

From what I know of Japanese culture and from my previous experience in the country, Japan embraces the collective whole instead of individuality. History isn't forgotten and paved over but embraced. The historic is merged with the modern without losing the connection to the past.

Tokyo embraces this cultural connection to history. Ancient temples are intermixed with skyscrapers. 130-year-old sushi restaurants are practically next door to supercar showrooms. This dichotomy is very different from the culture here in America, and one that I find fascinating.

When I first visited Japan nearly ten years ago, I unexpectedly found myself at Sensō-ji while the monks were conducting a chanting ceremony. The temple was originally constructed in 645, some 1,379 years ago!

Standing in the light rain, listening to the chants and drum beat, I had a brief moment displaced from time. I imagined a thousand years of people having a similar experience in that place, listening to the same chants and prayers.

I strongly desire to be connected to others in and outside of time — to know that my existence is part of something larger than who I am. This, I believe, is a big part of why I write and share my thoughts and experiences with others. It's the words and ideas that connect us.

For those of us who create — be it writing, painting, photography, or whatever — we know our creations will outlive us. While our creations might not be popular in a sense, they do have the potential to linger and last beyond our lifetime.

Like my experience at Sensō-ji, our creations can live outside of time and become part of our world's collective history. There's also something self-centered about sharing our experiences with others. In a way, this is a way to focus on ourselves while also connecting with others and acknowledging our place in history. Creating and sharing those creations is a truly unique experience.