09/02/2026
Last year, in peak silly-season chaos, I went for a mindful walk at Nudgee Beach… partly for spiritual nourishment, partly because my nervous system was hanging on by a thread and my to-do list was judging me.
That’s when I met Legacy.
Standing in the tidal pools. Perfect reflection. Zero interest in my existential crisis.
Timing was awkwardly perfect because I’d been deep in a therapist-style spiral about legacy.
You know…
“What will I leave behind?”
“Did I reach my potential?”
“Have I made meaningful contributions to humanity… or just strong tea and well-timed sarcasm?”
Nature has a funny way of interrupting our overthinking. Many nature-based and shamanic wellness traditions talk about the idea that the natural world mirrors truth back to us — usually without PowerPoint, productivity metrics, or performance reviews.
Legacy is an Arabian endurance horse, bred from desert survival lines and named because he was the final offspring of his sire. I have absolutely no idea whether he’s won races, broken records, or just enjoys being majestic and emotionally regulated on beaches.
What I do know is that seeing him stopped me in my tracks.
Awe. Wonder. Stillness.
The full nervous system reboot.
And it struck me… he will never know he did that.
Maybe legacy isn’t something we get to measure or curate. Maybe it lives in moments we accidentally create.
The flower that blooms for a week.
The butterfly doing its chaotic little sky dance.
The stranger who smiles at exactly the moment your brain is writing dramatic internal monologues.
Striving is beautiful. Progress matters. Humans do amazing things when we aim high.
But the natural world keeps reminding us that showing up — present, connected, imperfect, curious — might be its own kind of sacred work.
Legacy didn’t try to change the world that day.
He just stood there being fully, unapologetically horse.
And honestly… there’s a lesson in that for all of us.
You matter. Probably in ways you’ll never fully see. 🌞