We are Star-Stuff #30 #cong24 #legacy

Synopsis:

We can all trace our origins back to the beginning of time. As Dr Carl Sagan suggested, we are made of star-stuff. This might suggest that our ‘legacy’ has roots deep in time, and that this legacy continues long after we are gone. But the present moment is the point where the past and future fuse, and this is where our stardust gets to shine.

Total Words

821

Reading Time in Minutes

3

Key Takeaways:

  1. Our roots run deep, we have a shared legacy with everything that exists.
  2. We originated within a star – we are stardust.
  3. Our legacy runs from the beginning of time and will long after we are gone.
  4. The present moment is therefore a powerful moment because this is where our past and future legacies fuse, each mew moment is an opportunity for our star to shine.

About Bernard Joyce:

Bernard has being journeying through the Cosmos but for the moment living in Mayo in a Log House in a Native Woodland. Set up a company called New Paradigms supporting sustainable rural development.

Dabbles in Acting, Music, Public Speaking and Kayaking

Contacting Bernard Joyce:

You can connect with Bernard by emailLinkedIn or follow him on X

By Bernard Joyce

“We are Stardust, We are Golden”

Joni Mitchell’s lyrics, famously sung by Crosby, Stills, Nash, and Young, remind us that much of what we are made of originated inside the stars. Our very conception is the result of nucleosynthesis, and our births, the result of supernovae. Indeed, the good people at the Natural History Museum suggest that parts of us—the elements of hydrogen and lithium—can be traced back to the “Big Bang” some 13 or 14 billion years ago, give or take a millennium! Those of us of a certain vintage will remember the TV show Cosmos, hosted by Dr. Carl Sagan, who reminded us, “The nitrogen in our DNA, the calcium in our teeth, the iron in our blood, the carbon in our apple pies were made in the interiors of collapsing stars. We are made of star-stuff.”

So, we are all celestial cellular cousins—molecular brothers and sisters of all creatures, animate and inanimate—fused into the unique creations we are today. Whether we make a noticeable impact on the world or not, we leave a legacy. We may pass on our DNA to our children, just as it was passed to us. Even if we don’t, we leave traces of ourselves behind with each hair we shed and every layer of skin renewed. Even the woolly mammoth left enough behind to enable scientists, now or in the future, to bring this iconic creature back to life. Add time to the continuum, and it makes this “present” moment even more remarkable.

When a recruiter asks an interviewee, “Tell us a bit about yourself,” they might not be inviting us to recount the story of the Big Bang, yet our legacy is something we carry around, something that gives others a sense of who we are and what our future might look like. We hint at our legacies in networking events and on first dates, and we seek connection with our family, our friends, our tribes, and even our sports teams. In recent years, we’ve learned to trace connections through our DNA, connecting us with ancestors, deepening our stories, and embedding ourselves in something bigger than our individual lives.

The term roots is often used in this search for connection with who we are. Like a tree with deep roots, being grounded gives us a sense of reaching into the future, of bearing fruit. As we become aware of our legacy, particularly as we age, we begin to wonder about our impact and what we’ll leave behind. Having worked for a time as a monumental mason—the kind who erects headstones—I often wondered about those who lay below, what their legacies were, and why it was important to leave memorials of granite set in concrete. What will be my legacy? How will my obituary read? If I had a visit from Clarence, the angel who reveals to George Bailey what life would have been like had he not existed in It’s a Wonderful Life, what might my life look like?

In every moment, we are legacy: we are past, we are future—we are now. Who we have become over millennia is already written in the stars. Who we are to become, and what our legacy will be, is yet unwritten.

Legacy is the point where past and future collide—a fusion that happens in this moment. Moments come and go, sometimes in silence, sometimes with a big bang. We may make those moments golden or let them pass, but remember: we are stardust and now is our time to shine.

Maybe we’ll leave the last word to Joni:

“We are stardust
We are golden
And we’ve got to get ourselves
Back to the garden.”

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