52. Beyond the Grave – Carvell Wallace
It makes me wonder if we know, in a most fundamental and perhaps cellular sense, that this connection extends beyond the physical and into what might be called the spiritual.
I remember hearing once the results of a poll about death. The question was about how much and under what circumstance people fear the prospects of their own deaths. The poll found that people feared their own death less if they knew that their loved ones and descendants would prosper on after them. But when confronted with the idea that the people they love will suffer and maybe perish in some unfortunate way—say a comet or a global pandemic—then people feared death more, even though they would already be gone by the time the imagined horrifying event took place.
I think about this notion a lot, because for me it suggests that the connection we have to one another extends, in some way, beyond death, or at least beyond the idea of our death. It makes me wonder if we know, in a most fundamental and perhaps cellular sense, that this connection extends beyond the physical and into what might be called the spiritual.
– Carvell Wallace
Prompt:
Imagine you are able to speak to someone in your community, family, or lineage, even after you have passed on from this earthly plane. It is a person who was born after you were gone, so you do not know them personally. But they are able to find the message you have left behind. What would you say to them? What things do you want them to know about you, about this moment we are in, and perhaps about life and time as a whole?
Katie Wesolek
Location: Nashville, TN
About: This is my message in a bottle to future generations. We tried?
Age: 35
Message in a Bottle
Hi there!
If you're reading this message in a bottle, congratulations and I'm sorry. Congratulations are in order to you and your ancestors for surviving whatever calamities I can't foresee, but I just know are coming. And I'm sorry for the ways I and others of my generation failed to turn the ship around.
I'm tossing this bottle into the Atlantic Ocean, this bottle that once contained hand sanitizer produced by a local vodka distillery (don't ask). And I have a feeling this bottle will find you one day on the sunny shores of The Republic of Kansas. If that's the case, there's a lot you might have missed, but the long and short of it is that much of what used to be the United States is now underwater, and I bear some responsibility for that.
I just want you to know that we tried. We tried so hard. We took public transit when it was convenient. We recycled when we remembered. We brought our own bags, until they told us to stop, which was confusing. We composted for a week until it got too stinky. We forwarded the articles, we shared the memes. We clung to what felt normal and tried our hardest not to change at all.
But hey, maybe things still worked out for you, and I can stuff my sorries in a sack. Maybe you're laying on a beach on the East Coast, where it always was, getting just a little sunburned, like we always did. Or maybe, in the intervening years, we got the hang of automation, really did it right, and everyone, truly every human, is living a life of leisure. Maybe this bottle drifted up alongside your yacht. Maybe that's the vibe in the future.
Look, I don't know your life, but if you studied history (Did you? Is that still a thing?), I suspect that you know mine. Not mine, specifically, I'm nobody. Mine collectively. Our life. Our time. And so you know all the ways we screwed up. You also know things I can't know. Ways we've yet to screw up. Ways we still have a chance to get it right.
Listen to me. Learn from our mistakes. Hug your loved ones, if you can. Appreciate the little things. Whether it's the gentle way your robot butler applies SPF 900 sunscreen to your back as you lounge on your yacht, or the joy of finding a non-radioactive jellyfish to roast and share with your apocalypse colony. Cherish those moments, for you are alive and you are trying, and that's the best any of us can ever do.
Shannon Twenter
Location: Alexandria, VA
About: This prompt asked us to write to someone from beyond, and my beyond grew and grew. It is a letter to my granddaughter - that imagines a world where I have a husband, my own daughter who then births this lovely granddaughter. I so enjoyed penning this letter and this world.
Age: 44
Hello to you, my granddaughter,
I am sorry I did not get to meet you but as you know by now, or will know soon enough, I had your mother late in life. And though I am sure we both wish we had the youthful dexterity and action of those in their 20’s as moms, I know she, like me, had the wisdom, gratitude, and bliss of our 40’s to welcome our children in ways that 20-year-olds have more difficulty grasping. See wisdom comes in different ways, not just with age, because sometimes you will learn the most form a child. I know your mom taught me more than I could have ever imagined, and I know you will teach her the same. So yes, wisdom comes in young ages. But it also comes with experience. And it, importantly, comes in knowing yourself and allowing yourself to change to be the most authentic version of your greatest self. And it took me till my 40’s to do that. Your mom had it from day 1, but she, too, had things to learn before you came along, Sweet Caroline. No, I’m not sure that’s your name but I’m hedging my best.
So Sweet Caroline what do I want to tell you besides trusting wisdom you learn at any age? I guess I want to tell you some things about your grandma. I love ice cream, outdoor showers, laughing, dancing, being with friends, learning, experiencing different walks of life, people, art, places. I was a bit of an orienteerer, you might say -exploring cities, worlds, peoples I did not have a part of my circle in KC, MO where I was born and raised. I found homes in eclectic, creative places, and cities that community and art were strong staples. For me, that was Boise and Baltimore. Baltimore for its grit and realness and quirkiness. Boise for its real people, nature, and a place where you could start something. Besides finding dear homes, I found dear friends in my journey. When I got my 1st Masters – in education – a friend gave me a print that said when I go, the thing I’ll be most proud of is being “one of us”. And truer words were never spoken. It is your people – your friends, your partner, your children who you choose to build your life with – that will top any job or achievement. I also explored diverse income groups, races, ways of life and because of this, I understood the world better – our ills and our deepest wonders and strengths. I am forever grateful I chose to leave KC and learn about all of our country. It made me understand when tragic events related to societal ills would appear that often baffled many, I felt so in touch with and did not come as surprises.
So Caroline, leave your comfort zone and bubble and learn new people, worlds, living. You must and you will hold on to your roots. But our world will only thrive when we choose to connect with what and who we did not know. I did this, and it shaped who I became. In my 40’s, I merged my explorer with my roots, my kooky with my ambition, my loving heart with the trust I was worthy of another, and I found your granddad. I was lucky enough to build a beautiful home with him and your mother, and our extended community of love. May you always value this recipe of life: wisdom, community, love, and choosing to connect to other worlds and people. You make me proud. I know it because I sensed you back in 2020.
Love forever,
Your Grandma Wonder