We wouldn't be quoting Paul Buchheit or talking about Dave Sandberg if they hadn't sacrificed some of those relationships, or health for the products and platforms that we know them for. And that's the real point - legacy. Someone's legacy is not the relationships they had personally, just look at the miserable relationship failures of Steve Jobs, but their impact on bringing their vision and impact on groups outside of their circle.Hmm... legacy. That's the bit that's tricky.
You suggest that "telling junk from non-junk is an exercise in futility," and in many ways that's quite an agreeable sentiment. So much speculating and lots of people mostly get it wrong.
But if it's futile to tell the junk from the not-, what's the argument for sacrificing your joy and happiness while "chasing the rabbit?" If we can't generally tell the difference between fantastic and flotsam, what's the argument for removing ourselves from the lives of people that care for us and love us?
If it's legacy, I think we're missing the point of it all. Because legacy is a personal goal, is a self-effecting goal. Legacy isn't about helping other people, it's about some lasting kind of immortality.
We have to be more whole than the people we're trying to help. If we deficit of our joy and happiness, if we don't know how to give that to ourselves and our loved ones, how can we possibly hope to give it to others?
There's that parable about dealing with the plank in your own eye, so that you can see clearly enough to deal with the speck of sawdust in your brother's. I think this is a time we might find some wisdom in that story.
It sounds like a lasting impact of Dave Goldberg was the love he helped grow in his family and their friends. There's a heartbreaking outpouring of love in Sandberg's essay. I don't wonder if it was their achievement in being whole in their love, his commitment to his inner circle, that allowed him to bring passion to those outside of it.
I think we'd all be so lucky.