What We Leave Behind

Megan Workmon Larsen
11 min readDec 18, 2024

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When we abandon innovation, what futures do we unknowingly shape? What echoes remain, and what lessons are left unlearned?

Every decision to move forward leaves something behind. Abandonment and legacy are two sides of the same coin, their differences dictated by intention, memory, and design. We build monuments to some things and let others quietly erode. Yet both — the remembered and the forgotten — remain, shaping the world in ways we cannot always foresee.

Why do humans abandon? What drives our choices to preserve or forget, to champion certain legacies and discard others? These questions go beyond nostalgia or pragmatism. They reflect deep psychological forces and cultural values that define how we move through time.

This is a story of how we abandon, what we choose to carry forward, and how these decisions craft the world to come.

The Forces That Drive Abandonment

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Abandonment is rarely accidental. It is an act of pragmatism, a response to pressures we feel deeply but rarely interrogate.

We abandon because progress demands it. A better tool, a faster system, a more efficient process replaces the old, leaving it obsolete. This is how humans innovate — by iterating, refining, and discarding what no longer serves. Progress is linear only in appearance; beneath the surface, it is a churn of creation and abandonment, creation and abandonment, recreation and forgetting.

We abandon because we crave simplicity. Complexity weighs on us. A tool that requires too much effort becomes a burden. Cognitive ease drives adoption, and anything that interrupts the flow of convenience is left behind.

We abandon because imperfection unsettles us. When a system fails to meet expectations — when it stumbles, falls short, or reflects back something uncomfortable — we prefer to start over. We resist the messy work of refinement, opting instead for the clean slate of something new.

And we abandon because forgetting feels like freedom. To leave something behind is to make space for something else.

Yet forgetting carries its own weight. What we erase still lingers, unacknowledged, shaping us in ways we do not always see. These forces are human. They are neither good nor bad. They are the quiet engines of change, moving us forward while leaving the past scattered in our wake.

The Consequences of What We Abandon

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What we abandon does not vanish. It becomes part of the landscape we build on — sometimes as debris, sometimes as foundation, and sometimes as a trace of unfinished potential. In the physical world, abandoned objects accumulate — piling up in corners, landfills, or derelict buildings, marking what once mattered. In the digital world, abandoned creations linger invisibly: forgotten algorithms, unused systems, and obsolete knowledge stored in archives that no one opens. These digital remnants, though unseen, shape us just as powerfully as the visible detritus of the physical world.

Abandonment clears space, but it also leaves behind gaps — voids we may one day regret. These gaps are not merely physical or technological; they are emotional and cultural. Repeated abandonment erodes trust, a quiet but powerful consequence of progress pursued without reflection.

Consider the teacher who adopts an educational tool, only to watch it fade into obsolescence with little warning. How many tools must disappear before that teacher hesitates to invest in the next innovation? Or the worker who masters a new system, only to find it replaced before it has truly taken root. Abandonment does not just leave tools behind — it leaves people behind.

This is the cost of thoughtless innovation: a creeping caution that slows progress, not because of resistance to change, but because of an erosion of faith in its sustainability.

Yet abandonment is not only loss. It is also opportunity. What we leave behind may not be finished; it may only be paused. What seems like failure in one moment can become the foundation for something new in another.

The remnants of old systems hold lessons, if we are willing to learn from them. They teach us not only what works and what fails but also what we misunderstood, what we underestimated, and what we might try again. These remnants — broken tools, unfinished ideas, forgotten knowledge — are fertile ground. In the hands of future creators, they become the raw material for reinvention.

The question is not whether abandonment is necessary. It always will be. The question is how we abandon, what responsibility we take for what remains, and how we ensure that what we leave behind still holds value for the future.

What might grow from what we leave behind, if we design with care?

The Graveyard of Overwhelming Ambition

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Imagine a graveyard, but not one of stone and moss. This is a quieter space, stretching across the conceptual and the forgotten. Here lie systems, ideas, and tools once brimming with promise. Some were built in haste, others with care. Some reached great heights before falling, while others never even left the ground.

In this graveyard, there are no markers, no names. Yet every artifact tells a story: of what we valued, of what we misunderstood, of what we hoped might save us.

The Graveyard as Reflection

The graveyard reveals the values that shaped its contents. Each artifact reflects the priorities of its time: efficiency, precision, convenience, feedback, process. It is a mirror, showing us where we stumbled. Some objects failed because they were poorly designed. Others were abandoned because we misunderstood their potential. Still others were discarded too quickly, victims of our impatience. This graveyard shows us that failure often resides not in the object itself, but in the way we used — or failed to use — it.

The Graveyard as Clutter

This is not just a graveyard of abandoned ambition. It is a graveyard of excess. When we innovate without reflection, we create more than we can sustain. This graveyard swells, cluttered with fragments of brilliance and half-formed ideas. Some creations shine brightly, their potential obvious even now. Others are hazy, their purpose never fully realized. The sheer volume overwhelms.

What happens when there are too many tools, too many choices, too many voices competing for attention? This graveyard is not just a resting place — it is a cautionary tale of saturation. Potential drowns in the noise. What could have mattered is buried, not because it lacked value, but because we could not see it clearly. This is the tragedy of innovation pursued without pause: the things that might have shaped the future become indistinguishable from those that never should have been.

The Graveyard as Opportunity

This graveyard is not static. It is a space where the past can be revisited with fresh eyes, where abandoned artifacts become the foundation for innovation. Opportunity lies in the active process of rediscovery — seeking value in what was left behind.

A discarded learning tool could inspire an entirely new way of teaching, tailored to learners who were once overlooked. An algorithm shelved for inefficiency might, with refinement, serve a completely different purpose in a future context. A framework deemed outdated may evolve into a design philosophy ahead of its time. The graveyard invites action: to repurpose, to refine, to reimagine. Its remnants are not static failures but fragments of a larger, unfinished story, waiting for someone willing to rewrite it.

The Graveyard as Warning

The graveyard also warns us: not everything is abandoned for the right reasons. Carelessness creates its own kind of waste. Tools are left behind before their lessons are learned. Systems are discarded not because they failed, but because we lost interest. Trust is eroded as users are left stranded with technologies no longer supported.

The things we leave behind too easily might have been the things we needed most.

The graveyard forces us to ask hard questions: Did we abandon these things because they failed us — or because we failed them? Were they truly obsolete, or were we too impatient to nurture their potential? What scars have we left behind in the rush to move forward? It challenges us to think critically about how we abandon. Are we careful? Are we thoughtful? Are we leaving behind waste — or building foundations for the future?

The Graveyard as Dormant Potential

But not everything here requires immediate action. Some remnants in the graveyard simply wait — quietly holding value that may only become apparent in another time, another context. Dormant potential speaks to what is not yet realized but still holds promise. It reflects the quiet, reflective side of the graveyard: A failed concept that seemed impractical in its time may resonate with future challenges, a forgotten tradition may resurface, reshaped to meet the needs of an evolving world, or a neglected idea might inspire a generation willing to see it from an entirely new perspective.

Dormant potential is not about doing, but about recognizing the power of what lingers. It asks for patience and curiosity, for the belief that some things need time to find their purpose. Nothing here is truly lost. The graveyard waits, not for mourning, but for reinvention. Its layers contain the seeds of what could be. All it takes is someone with the patience to sift through its history and the courage to imagine its future.

Not Everything Deserves a Second Chance

Not everything abandoned or forgotten deserves a second chance. Not every tool, system, or idea left behind holds value for the future. This is an uncomfortable truth often overlooked in discussions of legacy and reinvention. While rediscovery can spark innovation, romanticizing the past risks burdening the present with things better forgotten.

Legacy is not neutral. What is preserved often reflects power, privilege, and selective memory. Some ideas are elevated not because they are universally valuable, but because they serve the narratives of those in control. Other innovations, equally brilliant, are silenced or erased because they challenge the status quo. To treat everything left behind as inherently meaningful is to ignore this context.

The same is true for abandonment. It is not always careless. Sometimes, we abandon things because they no longer align with who we are or where we want to go. The decision to leave something behind, when made thoughtfully, is a gift to the future — a deliberate act of making space. Recognizing what to preserve and what to abandon requires discernment, humility, and intention. It means asking hard questions: What holds genuine value, and what do we idealize because it feels familiar? What is worth carrying forward, and what belongs to the stories of another time? Designing for both legacy and abandonment requires not only creativity, but the courage to let go of what no longer serves.

Can You Design for Potential Legacy and Graceful Abandonment?

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Yes, and in fact, designing for both is not only possible but essential. Both require us to think beyond the immediate purpose of what we create, imagining its life span, its potential future, and even its eventual end. This is not just an act of responsibility — it is an act of vision.

The Potential of Legacy

Legacy is about endurance, but it is not about permanence. To design for potential legacy is to build something that evolves over time, retaining relevance as the world around it changes. Legacy is not about ensuring that everything lasts forever; it is about creating work that remains meaningful, even in transformation.

To achieve this, we must prioritize adaptability. Tools, systems, processes, and ideas with the potential for legacy are not rigid — they are modular, open to reinterpretation, and capable of being built upon. They invite collaboration, leaving room for others to contribute to their evolution.

Designing for legacy also means embedding stories. A system that carries its history — its purpose, its challenges, its lessons — becomes a living archive. When we understand the context of its creation, we are better equipped to recognize its future potential.

The Graceful Farewell

Not everything can — or should — last. Graceful abandonment acknowledges that obsolescence is inevitable but ensures that it happens responsibly. This is not about simply discarding what no longer serves; it is about designing an exit strategy that minimizes waste, preserves value, and creates pathways for reinvention.

To design for graceful abandonment is to consider the end at the beginning. How will this tool or idea transition when it is no longer useful? Can its components be repurposed? Can its purpose shift to meet new needs? Graceful abandonment means building with an eye toward circularity, creating systems that decay responsibly or transform into something new.

It also requires transparency. Abandonment becomes graceful when those affected — users, stakeholders, communities — are informed and included in the process. By openly addressing obsolescence, we reduce the distrust and disconnection that careless abandonment so often creates.

To design for both is to think holistically, to see creation as part of a larger continuum. It is to recognize that every tool, every idea, every system has a lifespan — and that its impact does not end when its utility fades. By designing with care, we ensure that what we build serves not just the present but also the futures we cannot yet see.

What we create can live on — not in its original form, but in its ability to inspire, to transform, and to teach. That is the power of designing for legacy and graceful abandonment.

The Future Built on What We Leave Behind

The act of moving forward is powerful. What we abandon and what we preserve are choices that shape the world we build. The graveyards we create — whether filled with obsolete systems, forgotten ideas, or discarded tools — are not voids. They are archives. They hold the blueprint for what comes next. If we choose to abandon with care and design with legacy in mind, we will find that the future does not erase the past. It builds upon it.

What will you leave behind? And, who will you inspire to rediscover it?

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References

Greenwood, B. N., Agarwal, R., Agarwal, R., & Gopal, A. (2015). The when and why of abandonment: The role of organizational differences in medical technology lifecycles. Temple University, University of Maryland.

Ravneberg, B. (2012). Usability and abandonment of assistive technology. Journal of Assistive Technologies, 6(4), 259–269.

Dinar, A., & Yaron, D. (1992). Adoption and abandonment of irrigation technologies. Agricultural Economics, 6(4), 315–332.

Wu, B., & David, G. (2021). Information, relative skill, and technology abandonment. Department of Economics, Rutgers University.

Garrison, J. A. (2011). What do we do now? A case for abandoning yesterday and making the future. Reference & User Services Quarterly, 51(1), 12–14.

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Megan Workmon Larsen
Megan Workmon Larsen

Written by Megan Workmon Larsen

Rebellious educational researcher, storyteller, and artist with an operatic flair and human-centered approach. Teaching AI now, because why not?

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