One of my favorite center-left political journals published this article about Charles Dickens, I presume because this is the time of year when most people think about him. He wrote (of course) A Christmas Carol, a great story that has suffered the fate of popularity. There are so many versions of it—including one starring Donald Duck <groan>—that one would think it has no real cultural, let alone psychological, value.

But it’s really a great story. For this reader, Dickens captures perfectly the temporal dilemma we humans face: we are haunted by our lived past and imagined future, but also haunted by our incomplete, never-fully-savored present. The ghosts of past, present, and future are beautifully rendered to articulate this insight.

The Ghost of Christmas Past is a timeless, amorphous, mysterious figure, surrounded by light, glittering with a mysterious, shining tunic and belt. Scrooge can’t get a firm handle on what this ghost is, or what he (he?) looks like. Is he a child? Is he an old man? In my reading, this ghost resembles Scrooge’s own faulty memory, clouded by regrets, dreams, and ruminations. Scrooge’s self-centered exploration of the past is fraught with confusion, invention, and fantasy. Faced with the woeful choices he made—choices that left him alone and spiritually impoverished in his old age—Scrooge finally can endure no more of it, and begs the ghost to return him to his bedroom.

The Ghost of Christmas Present is just the guy you want at a party. He implores Scrooge to savor life, even as he scolds him for denying the richness of life (and the benefits of justice) to his clerk. This portion of the story is a hymn to the glories—and ethical implications—of living squarely in the Now.

And the Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come is terror itself, terror personified, terror flinging Scrooge into his own grave. Here Dickens colorfully (and maybe with a bit too much ham) articulates the truth that to dwell on the future (or “future-trip,” to borrow a phrase from our own time) is to live in a world of swirling anxiety.

If you take time this year to watch or read A Christmas Carol, think about looking at it not as a morality play on being good to others, but a morality play on the importance of living in the Now of your life. Can you love the Now? Can you savor what you have? Can you be open to the gifts and challenges of your present moment?

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I hope it’s not too late to wish you a (truly) happy holidays. (It’s already the seventh day of Hanukkah, and You Know What is only one week away!) I touched on this in my Thanksgiving post this year, but haven’t really laid out my thoughts about the holidays.

I have a few.

I want everyone to have the holiday they really, really want. Not the one they really want, but the one they really, really want. Here’s what I mean. Let’s say you really want a holiday where nobody fights, nobody is offended, and nothing in your personal life blows up. Okay. I understand that. So you go to your cousin’s house for Christmas even though you’ve barely spoken to her all year, or you pretend that you didn’t break up because they really liked your partner and would ask all kinds of questions, or you deny that someone important has died because it’s just too painful. Or you just give up and skip the holidays because you see suffering all around you and feel hopeless about it. These kinds of holidays are enjoyed (?) by all kinds of people every year.

But why not go for the gold this year? It would be hard, I know, but it would be worth it. Decline your cousin’s invitation. Let her know you appreciate the offer, but you’re going to go to Hawaii for Christmas like you’ve always wanted, and hope she understands. (She won’t, but go anyway.) It would be even harder to decline her invitation and offer no reason whatsoever, but that is good manners—invitees are not required to divulge the reason for their regrets—and it’s good practice for building a new, healthier relationship with your cousin.

Or tell your family that you broke up with your ex, their beloved friend. Tell them you don’t want to talk about it, you appreciate their concern, and you really want to enjoy the holiday as best you can. When they come up to you later to ask about it, say kindly but firmly that you really don’t want to talk about it, you appreciate their concern, and you really want to enjoy the holiday as best you can. And when they come up to you again to ask about it, say kindly but firmly that…well, you get the idea. You’ll be training yourself and your family to learn healthy ways to handle awkward or upsetting information without ruining a celebration.

Or take the holiday to remember the person who has died. Put up pictures and light candles. Tell stories or (better yet) do a small ritual that acknowledges the painful absence, and also the bright presence of the person’s memory. The holidays will be darker, but also more honest, and celebration can sometimes be like that. Look at it as a more solemn holiday than you’re accustomed to. But it’s not a “downer” or a drag.

Or volunteer to work at a homeless shelter or the humane society over the holidays. Instead of despairing about all the human (and animal) suffering around you, do something about it and use the opportunity to connect with someone you don’t know. And wear a Santa hat, just to be dorky and silly.

I offer all of this because I really love the holidays, and really wince when I see people (including myself) not enjoying them to the fullest. So I mean it deeply and earnestly when I say to you, “Happy Holidays!”

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They’re not just for couples! If you’re interested, click here for more information.

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I often work with people who regret the choices they’ve made. They ruminate about the “road not taken,” the gifts and benefits they might have received if only they had chosen a different path of life. Here’s a simple technique to work through this dilemma.

Imagine that you live in one universe among many, and that there are multiple versions of you existing in other parallel universes. (This sounds like sci-fi, but bear with me!) In this universe, you have chosen (let’s say) to live in Seattle, to pursue a career in one particular field, and to rebuff the advances of several people who wanted to have romantic relationships with you. And…you feel resentful and sad. You wonder what your life would have been like if you had stayed back east, or if you had pursued a very different career, or if you had decided to commit to someone from your past. You wonder if you would be happier if you had taken a different road in your life.

Now, imagine this: someone who looks and sounds like you–someone who really is you–has made different choices in a parallel universe. And you know what? S/he really is happy. The choices really work for him (or her). And yet—and yet—it’s not that simple. Can you imagine that a person in a parallel universe who bears your name and looks and sounds like you might be happy, but also have a few regrets? Here’s what I mean:

Over the past fifteen years, if I had chosen differently, I would be living in Minneapolis, I would most likely be single, and I might even be an adoptive parent of a young child. But my choices have brought me to Seattle, and into a long-term relationship, and into a life and lifestyle that most likely won’t lead to the adoption of children. Should I feel regret? Have I chosen the wrong path? I don’t think so. When I reflect on the “Stephen” who lives in my imaginary parallel universe—the one who stayed in the Midwest and adopted a child—I can see how he might have problems, and worries, and difficulties that don’t trouble me in my own circumstances. I can see that whatever choices I might have made in my life, I would have brought upon myself some combination of pain and joy, suffering and satisfaction.

Bottom line: if you feel regret, angst, or even despair about the current circumstances of your life, it might help to reflect on the probability that no matter what choice you make, that choice will lead to good things, and also a few serious challenges. There is no path of life that can guarantee your contentment and happiness. And—there is no path of life that does not offer you a glimpse of wisdom, insight, and beauty.

So…jump in!

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You’ve heard the made-for-TV therapy question a thousand times, right? Here it is: “How does that make you feel?” This is not a question I ask in my counseling sessions. First of all, it’s such a cliche that I could hardly pull it off with a straight face. But more than that, the wording is troubling—it suggests that a person’s feelings can be directly caused by another person or an upsetting event. This is somewhat true, but not completely true. If I insult you, you might feel hurt or angry, and mostly that’s because I insulted you. But it’s also because you are interpreting my behavior in a certain way, and telling yourself little stories about me, about you, and about our relationship.

Anyway, back to the original point of this post! And the point is, even though I don’t ask, “How does that make you feel?” and even though your feelings are not the only thing we focus on in our work together, getting in touch with your deep feelings can really help. You may have some amount of awareness of how you’re feeling about an upsetting event, but upon reflection you might be surprised at the depth and complexity of your feelings. And if you become aware of this deeper layer of feelings, the feelings will then become more available to you for insight, growth, and change.

So here’s a quick primer on feelings. If you’re feeling uneasy, or irritated, or out of sorts, take some time to sit down with yourself and listen to your deeper layer of feelings. One way to do this is to take a look at this list of feeling words, print it out, and circle the ones that ring true for you. Notice that the feelings are grouped in a way that’s similar to my favorite grouping: mad, sad, glad, and afraid. You know it’s a feeling word when it hits you on a gut level. “I feel you’re not respecting me” is not a feeling. “I’m pissed!” is a feeling.

As you go through the list, you might be surprised at how many feelings you have, and how intense some of them are! The value of this exercise is to look within for sources of reflection. If you’re surprised by your feelings—you didn’t know you were that scared, for example—you can then reflect on them and discern where you might want to go next.

Following that example—you feel scared—you could think about ways to face your fear, or ways to express your fear to someone close to you who only has seen your anger until now. They think you’re pissed at them, but the truth is you’re scared. You’re scared they might break up with you, or you’re scared they might not! Or you’re scared they might be injured or hurt, and you use anger to shield yourself from that future pain by creating an emotional distance.

If this sounds like Pop-psych 101, that’s okay. None of this is particularly new or unusual. But most of us have gotten very skilled at hiding our own deepest feelings from ourselves. I for one am very good at the acting-mad-but-actually-scared routine. But sometimes these simple practices get us started on deeper reflection and the complicated process of recovery and growth.

So … how do you feel??

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