Inheritance is never about the money. Never has been, never will be. It’s about what our children are inheriting in terms of our “stuff” meaning our singular gifts and our emotional/psychological/ spiritual baggage.
How well we have harvested that which belongs to us as sentient beings on a bountiful planet in a nondescript arm of a regular galaxy in a random part of the universe is the only thing we have to give them.
We redefine inheritance this way because it makes way more sense than trying to reduce our lives to a statement of financial accounts. We are not our money or our acquisitions. Our lives cannot be quantified. We are wild, untamed souls inhabiting the incredible gift of self-healing, self-replicating, self-resourcing bodies that meet one another in the field of being. We have stories to tell of our adventures here. We have encounters that for better or worse lay the groundwork of what our children and their children have to work with in their lives.
When we have a child, we are assuring that they too must face their dying—and the inevitable question of the meaning of life. They, too, will struggle to make sense of the whole damn thing.
Who am I? What does my life mean? What have I done to honor and cherish this one precious life?
Our babies will grow up with wounds they will inevitably acquire just by the mere fact of existing. How will they know what they are? How can we support our children’s continuing the good work of living? How can we help future generations reacquire contact with the earth and all its bounty?
That’s what I want to know about you, fellow human. And it’s what your kids need from you.
Got a plan for that?