📿 The Bear and Beyond: Unpacking Legacy

This piece originally appeared on Lodro’s Substack: The Laundry

At the Los Angeles premiere of The Bear, creator of the hit show, Christopher Storer, said this latest season is about legacy.

If you’re familiar with the show, you might argue it’s about creating anxiety in the viewership. If you’re unfamiliar with the show, it’s the story of a family (blood as well as found family) grappling with trauma due to the loss of one of their own, owning and operating a sandwich shop which transforms into a Michelin-star-hopeful fine dining establishment.

There is, in fact, a full episode entitled Legacy. In it, our protagonist Carmy talks about how legacy in a restaurant is like a family tree. He has taken the best knowledge that he’s accrued in previous restaurants and brings it to his restaurant. His staff, in turn, will take the best of what they learned at The Bear and will bring it to the restaurants they will eventually work in or open.

As simple a concept as that is, it got me thinking about legacy. There is the legacy that has come before and the legacy one can hope to leave behind.

The Legacy That Has Come Before

To be simplistic about it, I am the descendent of a long line of Jewish survivors and the recipient of a long line of Buddhist wisdom. My parents became Buddhist in their twenties and thirties, long before I came around, and I was raised Buddhist with an undertone of “when we’re around the rest of the family don’t be surprised if it feels more Jewish.”

Only as an adult, particularly since Adreanna became pregnant with Ruby, did I begin to dig into the long line of Jewish ancestors I have. One interesting part of our history is that in 1900 a handful of Rinzlers were founding members of the Ottynia Young Men’s Benevolent Association, a group dedicated to uplifting their neighbors and “help[ing] one another in every possible way.”

This brings me to the Buddhist side of my ancestors, who also were devoted to helping sentient beings in every possible way. I hold teachings from the Kagyu and Nyingma lineages of Tibetan Buddhism and look back on the forefathers and foremothers of Tilopa, Naropa, Mila, Longchenpa, Jigme Lingpa, Yeshe Tsogyal and others as inspiration for the work that I do today.

Yet, to borrow from Carmy on The Bear, if we think of these things as a family tree, in which every place you spend significant time leaves an indelible mark that you carry with you, I have to also look to Zen master Dogen, Vietnamese Buddhist teacher Thich Nhat Hanh, and the founders of the Insight Meditation Society as past and current influences.

I think about them all daily, hopeful that my efforts allow me to follow in their footsteps.

The Legacy That I Hope to Leave Behind

When my first book, The Buddha Walks into a Bar, came out, I thought to myself that if there was one person who read it and began meditating as a result, then I would have done my part in this world.

That one person would go on to help others — I imagined maybe in a non-profit or maybe Goldman Sachs — but would bring good, compassionate energy into all of their interactions and thus move the needle for this world in a positive direction in a place I would likely never get to experience.

Relatedly, as a good New York City kid, I grew up reading The New York Times. I dreamed of someday being featured in some way in what I viewed as the most prestigious publication out there.

When we founded MNDFL, the network of meditation studios in New York, we were given a very kind write up in The New York Times hailing it as the first of its kind in the city. And then we were featured in a wellness guide and then as a first-person “does meditation work for you” narrative and then they ran an excerpt from one of my books and…I think we were in the newspaper of note six times in as many months.

I mention this because at the time I thought these types of things were legacy. I thought my first book being a best-seller was legacy. I thought building (and expanding) a massive business in the city was legacy. It is — in my personal opinion — somewhat off the mark.

Later on in The Bear, Olivia Coleman’s character (how excellent is she?) makes this point explicitly, talking about the decades of owning a restaurant and how she does not think anyone will remember her making the “perfect” dish; she remembers the people and they will, hopefully, remember her. The people who came into her restaurant and grew up around her, who changed and flourished and brought back families of their own to dine with her — that is the legacy that she cherishes leaving behind — the people she served and grew with.

I mention the above because it was around the time we got our third or fourth big write up in The New York Times that I thought, “Huh. I scratched that itch. Now what?”

The accolade, which initially felt so sexy and cool, had begun to feel a bit shallow.

At the same time, I was seeing people transform around me. I saw stressed-out New Yorkers begin to relax their bodies, become kinder to one another, and bring friends who went through similar transformations. I saw front-desk staff go on to train as mindfulness teachers and become really cool powerhouse leaders themselves. I saw people meet at the studio, fall in love, and get married.

(As you read this piece, Adreanna and I are at the wedding of one of the first hires at MNDFL; it’s such a joy to see the incredible growth this person has had over the last 8 years.)

When I look over my shoulder at Sam and Max Rinzler co-founding the Ottynia Young Men’s Benevolent Association or at these enlightened lineage holders who we still remember as shining beacons of sanity today, it’s not about the structures they built — the homes or schools or monasteries — or the great contribution to the academic or scientific world…it’s the people they helped along the way.

We know of Tilopa because of his profound influence on Naropa. We know of Naropa because of his profound influence on Marpa. We know of Marpa because of his profound influence on Milarepa. We know of Milarepa because of his profound influence on Gampopa. That is not just lineage; that’s legacy.

I continue to contemplate this topic, as I do not yet have any profound answers as to what I may leave behind when I go. I may not know that for many years…or at all. Sometimes I open my inbox and find a thankful email from someone who has been helped by my writing and that means the world to me. Because it’s the people that we serve and grow with that matter; that much is getting more clear to me all the time.

This piece originally appeared on Lodro’s Substack: The Laundry. For more of his recent writing, check out The Laundry today.

P.S. For anyone looking to get into spiritual writing (i.e. writing that feels authentic to who you are), there are 2 remaining seats in The Art of Spiritual Writing starting soon.

There are also a handful of spots still open in my Meditation Teacher Training starting on September 20th.

I hope to see you at one or both.

Lodro Rinzler is the award-winning author of 7 books including The Buddha Walks into a Bar and Take Back Your Mind: Buddhist Advice for Anxious Times. He has taught meditation for 20 years in the Buddhist tradition, is the co-founder of MNDFL meditation studios and travels frequently for his books, having spoken across the world at conferences, universities, and businesses as diverse as Google, Harvard University and the White House. Named one of 50 Innovators Shaping the Future of Wellness by SONIMA, Rinzler’s work has been featured in The New York Times,The Wall Street Journal, The Atlantic, FOX, CBS, and NBC. He lives in upstate New York with his wife Adreanna, daughter Ruby, and a menagerie of small animals. lodrorinzler.com