The Spirit of Christmas Past
By the time a person gets to the age of 53, you have acquired quite a few Spirits who walk through life with you.
At least that is what I firmly believe.
Some are family and loved ones who are no longer in the physical world. Others are friends and pets whose memories linger on as cherished memories.
And then, if you have the misfortune of having done so, there are those Spirits who you made that way.
But the worst Spirits are those who became that way because you had no other option but to let them go from the material to the ethereal. Often these last kinds have no face to put with the feeling you get when they are around. They are also the ones who usually have the greatest wisdom to impart to you, once you open your heart enough to hear.
I have had one of these last kinds of Spirits in my life since December 1976. And this Spirit has colored every Christmas since then. At least so I have claimed. I have not had many “good” Christmases since 1975 and I’ve had some really rotten ones over the years. Along with the pain and renewed memories of that Christmas that come back every year, there also is the still burning rage I felt back then over what happened that I had NO control over.
That rage never really went away over the rest of the year. It bubbled and glowed off in my heart like an ember, waiting for the winds of downturns in life to fan back into a conflagration. It is just in the last seven years or so that I have managed to gain some measure of control over the rage so that it doesn’t hold the control over me it once did.
Of all the Spirits in my life, this unnamed, faceless one is the one I most wanted to know, with all my heart and soul. But it was not to be, never could be, and that, too, haunted me.
As I have wandered the world the last 35 years, gaining life experiences and gathering Spirits, this little one has been a constant companion, if only just in the back of my mind.
That it has become a part of my life for so long is not because of anything it did to me, or I did or didn’t do for it, but rather because I chained it to my psyche. And after holding this spirit to my heart for so long, the pain that it brought had come to almost define me as a person.
I almost welcomed the seasonal pain and return of the little Spirit, especially in those years like this one when things aren’t exactly going my way.
It was an excuse to feel sorry for myself and the things I didn’t have in my life.
But a funny thing happened this year when the little Spirit came back. This time it brought a message.
“You are so much better than this.”
I realized that I am blessed by those people who have chosen to be part of my life, those I love and love me. I have a healthy daughter and three healthy step-kids. I have a wonderful woman who not only loves me for what I am, but also because she knows what I can be.
All I had to do is let the rage fall from the death grip I have clung to it with all these years.
Once I did, it felt like a million pounds had been lifted from my back. My heart also was able to let go of the hurt that had been locked in there for 35 years.
Does that mean I no longer have anger in my life? Of course not, I have carried that ember of rage with me so long; it will take a while to put it out completely.
But the act of letting go of the rage has made the burden of anger lighter, easier to bear. I do not rage and anger at the entire world, just those things in my life that I can not only control, but make better.
I am, indeed, “so much better than this.”
What happened 35 years ago was partly my fault. But only to a certain point, after that it spiraled rapidly out of my control. I realize that now, the little Spirit had been trying to tell me that all along.
It wasn’t until I was willing to let it go that I could hear it.
Already I am having the best Christmas I’ve had in years because it has been free of the soul pain I have carried all these years. My heart is gladdened by the idea that I will have many more to come.
And, unlike Ebenezer Scrooge, I will welcome the Spirit of Christmas Past because it no longer carries the seeds of sorrow, but those of hope.
At least that is what I firmly believe.
Some are family and loved ones who are no longer in the physical world. Others are friends and pets whose memories linger on as cherished memories.
And then, if you have the misfortune of having done so, there are those Spirits who you made that way.
But the worst Spirits are those who became that way because you had no other option but to let them go from the material to the ethereal. Often these last kinds have no face to put with the feeling you get when they are around. They are also the ones who usually have the greatest wisdom to impart to you, once you open your heart enough to hear.
I have had one of these last kinds of Spirits in my life since December 1976. And this Spirit has colored every Christmas since then. At least so I have claimed. I have not had many “good” Christmases since 1975 and I’ve had some really rotten ones over the years. Along with the pain and renewed memories of that Christmas that come back every year, there also is the still burning rage I felt back then over what happened that I had NO control over.
That rage never really went away over the rest of the year. It bubbled and glowed off in my heart like an ember, waiting for the winds of downturns in life to fan back into a conflagration. It is just in the last seven years or so that I have managed to gain some measure of control over the rage so that it doesn’t hold the control over me it once did.
Of all the Spirits in my life, this unnamed, faceless one is the one I most wanted to know, with all my heart and soul. But it was not to be, never could be, and that, too, haunted me.
As I have wandered the world the last 35 years, gaining life experiences and gathering Spirits, this little one has been a constant companion, if only just in the back of my mind.
That it has become a part of my life for so long is not because of anything it did to me, or I did or didn’t do for it, but rather because I chained it to my psyche. And after holding this spirit to my heart for so long, the pain that it brought had come to almost define me as a person.
I almost welcomed the seasonal pain and return of the little Spirit, especially in those years like this one when things aren’t exactly going my way.
It was an excuse to feel sorry for myself and the things I didn’t have in my life.
But a funny thing happened this year when the little Spirit came back. This time it brought a message.
“You are so much better than this.”
I realized that I am blessed by those people who have chosen to be part of my life, those I love and love me. I have a healthy daughter and three healthy step-kids. I have a wonderful woman who not only loves me for what I am, but also because she knows what I can be.
All I had to do is let the rage fall from the death grip I have clung to it with all these years.
Once I did, it felt like a million pounds had been lifted from my back. My heart also was able to let go of the hurt that had been locked in there for 35 years.
Does that mean I no longer have anger in my life? Of course not, I have carried that ember of rage with me so long; it will take a while to put it out completely.
But the act of letting go of the rage has made the burden of anger lighter, easier to bear. I do not rage and anger at the entire world, just those things in my life that I can not only control, but make better.
I am, indeed, “so much better than this.”
What happened 35 years ago was partly my fault. But only to a certain point, after that it spiraled rapidly out of my control. I realize that now, the little Spirit had been trying to tell me that all along.
It wasn’t until I was willing to let it go that I could hear it.
Already I am having the best Christmas I’ve had in years because it has been free of the soul pain I have carried all these years. My heart is gladdened by the idea that I will have many more to come.
And, unlike Ebenezer Scrooge, I will welcome the Spirit of Christmas Past because it no longer carries the seeds of sorrow, but those of hope.