Living History

I scanned over an article this morning as Queen Elizabeth II has now surpassed the previously recorded oldest monarch and it reminded me that we are literally living history everyday. I guess we would be even if the monarchy didn’t exist (or if our media wasn’t obsessed with it, including the wee Princess Charlotte whom I am unapolegetically obsessed with) but it just seems to fascinating to me that hundreds of years from now people, history students in a classroom, will have purchased a textbook with dates like 2015 printed in them on a timeline and we will be nothing but mere legends.

And it reminds me, that even though not everything was recorded there were unrecorded imprints of history everywhere.

Someone who is quickly becoming one of the most interesting people to talk to in my life recently mentioned that walking through a graveyard and noticing the tombstones would be an interesting/enjoyable activity. I didn’t agree immediately, but after watching a youtube video this past weekend of a young family taking their TODDLER to a cemetery in the rain and carefully expressing how brilliant it was to reflect on the lives and personalities of those who were buried there had.

When it comes to living a life that is worth living, what is there to aim for? To be remembered? To make a lasting impression? To write the next Friends or XFiles? Or is it to be remembered by those who you have made an impact on? Or to be remembered at all?

I can confidently say that I will not be much in history books, maybe if they ever archive the internet (ha!) this blog will live on, or my facebook profile, or my Google searches , browser history….Is there any meaning in what we choose to write down in the history books? We remember what we want to remember, and in two hundred years, nine hundred years, we will be nothing but imprints.

So existing in a media-driven part of the world where history is being made before our eyes can make us–sorry, can make me think all kinds of things about my own life. Am I existing? Should I open my eyes more? Should I walk slower and notice the people on the street? “Smell the roses” as they say? I’m frequently plagued with the thought that there is no guarantee that I will live well into my mid-eighties, retired from a full-lived life with grandchildren visiting and bread baking and knitting with Coronation Street on the tv…but life is (impending doom of a cliche approaching) fleeting. It sickens me to say but it is so true.

I’m not sure how to end this, as I’d rather not give advice, so let’s just say that I will never be the Queen of England, and will definitely not invent some world-altering technology that will change billions of peoples’ lives. I can continue to passionately make an imprint, everywhere, and that’s my cure for a fleeting life.

xx Jess

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