My obituary guardrails. What?!
No, no, please don’t stop reading because I used the word “obituary!” I’m writing about my obituary teachers who’ve shed light beyond common measure in my life.
Not kidding. Really.
Uh oh, you want an explanation? Okey-doke.
I’m a fallible human; no surprises there. I try to adhere to strong values. Nonetheless, I often fall off my values buggy. (Oh, come on. Admit it, you do, too.) My smoldering emotional wiring is, suddenly, on display for all to see, sometimes sparking pain in others (and to be honest, in me, too.) Soooo embarrassing….I need help. Guardrails to help me hold fast to my values behavior (well, for the most part.)
Guardrails? Obituaries.
But…but…obits?? Kind of morbid, don’t you think?
No, not really. Talk about a particular roadmap that increasingly gave me permission to be, of all people, myself. I love obituaries for folks who’ve been in intentional relationship with the world on small, caring, and often minuscule scales.
Excuse me??
A sample of my favorite obituary teachers. Feast your eyes.
“Barbara Denver made the world’s best fudge. Yes, she accomplished many other things, but the quality of her fudge cannot be overstated.”
“Susan is remembered for her generous hospitality, quick wit, and ability to order fondue in English, French, German and Swiss German.”
“With his gifted hands and love of machinery, Pete continued to fix cars, vacuums, clocks, lawnmowers, washing machines and dryers just to name a few. His backyard was the junk yard of Sanford and Son, and many people passing through his life benefited, as a result.”
Can we judge the presence of sheer aliveness by how small or big something is? Can we gauge the light someone has shed in our universe by the scale of their accomplishments? My obituary teachers show me that our presence in the world, no matter the scale, spreads light. Do any of us laugh off summer fireflies because the light they shed is so small? No way! They’re magical! Just like the unique light, small or large, each of us sheds in the world.
Oh, wait, wait! I was so overcome by admiration for my obituary teachers that I completely forgot about the guardrails they provide. When I consider a possible future obituary for myself, it’s cringing to even consider something like the following:
“Jan was known for shaming people.” “Jan‘s tongue had a cutting edge, which left its mark on people.” “She was a stellar keyboard warrior who excelled at taking others down in social media.”
Nope, nope, nope. See what I mean about preventative behavioral guardrails? And, damn, they work! I just love my obituary teachers!