The Eye of the Storm
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“Is it over yet?”
I’ve been asked that question a dozen times this month, and I’ve asked it myself. This year I’m living the election from the inside: my name is on the ballot for the Franklin Village Council. So believe me, I’m counting the days too. Whether your attention is on our village, the Senate race here in Michigan, or races and headlines around the world, I suspect you’re ready for it to be decided.
There’s a strange calm at the center of a hurricane. The winds are fiercest all around it, but in the eye, the sky clears and you can finally see. Right now, most of us are living in the wind.
Some of this storm is ours to steer, and much of it isn’t. We can get involved, talk with friends and neighbors about what matters to us, and cast our vote. But each of us gets one vote, no matter the election. Our control over the outcome is limited.
What can we control? How we consume the news, how we learn about the issues, how open we stay to people who see things differently. Most of all, we can control ourselves: where we spend our time, which causes we support, and whether we notice the small chances in front of us and bring them front and center.
Earlier this week I found the eye of the storm in an unexpected place. I spent a couple of days at the Life & Legacy conference, where I had the honor of speaking to 300 attendees about (you guessed it) legacy. Outside that room, the news was all polls and predictions. Inside, we were talking about something that outlasts every election.
I shared stories, and I challenged the group to look beyond the top of the donor pyramid. So many people are remarkably generous in aggregate, yet we often fail to see them in their entirety, whether we’re the donor looking at our own giving or the organization looking at its supporters. When we see people whole, we see how much good is already happening, quietly, every day.
That’s what the eye of the storm offers: clarity about what lasts.
I’ve always loved the old Patek Philippe ads (see below for an example). A father and son, or a mother and daughter, sharing a quiet moment, and a line suggesting that you don’t actually own one of their watches; you merely look after it for the next generation. It’s a luxury ad, but it’s also one of the best descriptions of legacy I know. Jewish tradition has a phrase for it: l’dor v’dor, from generation to generation.
We are not the first people to feel that the world is spinning out of control. Our grandparents and great-grandparents lived through storms far fiercer than this one, and still they planted, saved, built, and gave, so that we would have something to inherit. What they handed us was never really theirs to keep. It was theirs to look after for a while and then pass to us.
Now it’s our turn. We can’t change everything. But if we make things better for one person, one day at a time, we’re doing it. And when the winds settle, as they always do, what we’ve cared for and passed along is what will still be standing.
What are you looking after for the next generation? How might I help you secure your legacy through philanthropy?
Shabbat Shalom,
Kari
