Your Legacy - Is it an Obituary?

Non-member article, published Sept 6, 2025. Personal Reflection by Sarah Parkins

It’s Saturday morning, and I’m sat on the sofa with a cup of decaf coffee, sunlight streaming across the room. It’s still hot outside - summer isn’t over yet. In my hands is a newspaper, an actual broadsheet. I rarely read a physical paper anymore, and finding this one took some effort. But this weekend, nostalgia nudged me and I’m reading a copy of the The New York Times from Monday. No flashing ads to dodge, no pings or notifications competing for my attention. Today, the printed page won, and it’s delightful!

Its oversized pages are still awkward to manage, but there’s a comfort to the experience: the soft crinkle as I turn a page, the faint, inky scent, and the tactile pleasure of newsprint beneath my fingertips.

I start, as I always do, by reading the front page closely, then the next, before I begin hopping between sections, skimming and dipping into whatever catches my eye, front to back, back to front, I traverse and devour the paper and it’s stories. As usual, the pages are filled with stories that either feel distant and irrelevant, or so overdone that they create a quiet numbing, or reveal the subtle absurdities of the world unfolding, or spark reflections worth sitting with.

Over the years, I’ve become discerning about how and when I consume news. Most of what’s published I take with a pinch of salt. Headlines are designed to grab attention, stories are written to sell papers, drive clicks, and shape narratives that reflect the interests of institutions and organizations, influencing communities and collective thinking. That doesn’t make them meaningless, but it does mean they’re never entirely neutral.

I first learned this lesson at 17 years old while studying media: the camera always lies. Later, while studying photography at the International Center of Photography in New York, that truth deepened. A single photograph is never truly objective - it’s framed by a human hand, a human eye. It’s a choice: what to include, what to leave out. Writing works the same way. Even this reflection is shaped by me. Everything we read or create carries the fingerprints of its author.

That’s why discernment matters. We need our own wisdom, intelligence, intuition, and even our spiney senses to decide not if something will shape us, but how.

Everything we consume changes us. Life itself shapes and programs us - that’s part of being human. The challenge is finding ways to live together in harmony, because a total collapse serves no one. Most of us want to live fully, enjoy a high quality of life, and see future generations thrive. Many care deeply about their children, grandchildren, great-grandchildren, and the communities around them. Then there are those who care solely for themselves - their personal power, the influence they can wield over others - because for them, power is everything, and greed is king. Beautifully and poetically, you can find all of this in a newspaper!

Maybe that’s why I found myself lingering over the obituary section today. In my reflective state I noticed something: every obituary is a life, condensed into a few paragraphs. Some are sweeping tributes, others just a few quiet lines. Some feel carefully crafted; others, almost incidental.

…Want to explore the rest of this reflection and dive deeper into what your legacy is, and what it means to truly live a full, meaningful life? Become a Birch Cove member to read the full piece and gain access to more insights, personal reflections, and resources designed to help you uncover what matters most.

Disclaimer: The information and services provided by Birch Cove are for educational purposes only and are not a substitute for professional medical advice, diagnosis, or treatment. Birch Cove is not a medical provider and does not treat, cure, or prescribe for any medical conditions unless otherwise stated. Always consult your physician or qualified healthcare provider with any medical concerns. Birch Cove assumes no liability for actions taken based on the provided information or services. Product links may be affiliate links, meaning Birch Cove could receive a small commission on purchases.