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  • Past, Present, and Future: Lessons from A Christmas Carol

    Past, Present, and Future: Lessons from A Christmas Carol

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    From ‘Bah, humbug!’ to redemption: Charles Dickens’ ‘A Christmas Carol’ unfolds as more than just a festive fable, offering profound insights into self-discovery, kindness, and rewriting one’s life story.


    Charles Dickens’ timeless classic, “A Christmas Carol,” isn’t just a heartwarming tale of holiday spirit; it’s a profound exploration of human psychology and the power of personal transformation.

    Many of us have heard the story before through countless movie and TV adaptations, especially the infamous Scrooge, whose name has now become a common insult toward those who fight against the holiday spirit of joy, kindness, and charity.

    If you’re interested, you can read the original 1843 novella A Christmas Carol for free at Project Gutenberg. There are also many free audiobooks you can find and listen to.

    The story opens the day before Christmas with Ebenezer Scrooge at work, a strict businessman who is described as miserable, lonely, and greedy, without any close friends or companions. His nephew visits, wishes him a cheerily “Merry Christmas!” and invites him to spend dinner with his family, but Scrooge rudely brushes off the kind gesture and responds with his trademark phrase “Bah humbug!”

    Scrooge’s cynical and negative attitude is on full display in the opening chapter. “He carried his own low temperature always about with him.” In one instance where he is asked to donate money to help the poor, the wealthy Scrooge asks, “Aren’t there prisons? Aren’t there workhouses?” and then complains about the “surplus population.”

    It’s clear that Scrooge’s only concerns and core values in life are money and wealth. If it doesn’t help his profits or bottom line then he doesn’t care about it, especially the well-being of others which he claims is “none of his business.”

    The archetype of Scrooge is more relevant today than ever, especially in our corporatized world where rich elites isolate themselves from the rest of society while income inequality, crime, and economic woes continue to rise for the average person. Dickens observed early signs of increased materialism, narcissism, and greed almost two hundred years ago, but these unhealthy instincts have only grown rapidly since then. Social media has particularly warped people’s perceptions of wealth, status, and fame, which has in turn blinded us to many other important values in life.

    In many cases people like Scrooge live lonely and miserable lives until they die, clinging to their money as they are lowered into their graves. However the story of “A Christmas Carol” provides hope and inspiration that people can change their paths in life if they are given the necessary insight and wisdom.

    As the well-known tale goes, Scrooge is haunted by 3 benevolent spirits on consecutive nights (The Ghosts of Christmas Past, Present, and Future), each teaching him an essential lesson on what really matters in life.

    This breakdown of past, present, and future creates a complete picture of one’s life. It’s a powerful framework to spark self-growth in any person. Once we reevaluate where we’ve been, where we are, and where we want to go, we have a much clearer idea on what the right path forward is.

    Keep in mind you don’t need to be religious to reap the benefits of this story. Its lessons are universal. While there are supernatural and spiritual elements, the wisdom is real and tangible.

    Introduction: The Ghost of Marley

    Before Scrooge is visited by the three spirits, he encounters the ghost of his former business partner Marley who had died seven years ago.

    The ghost of Marley is shown to be in a type of purgatory, aimlessly roaming the town, entangled in many heavy chains with cash-boxes, keys, padlocks, ledgers, deeds, and heavy purses made out of steel, representing a lifetime of greed and selfishness:

      “I wear the chain I forged in life,” replied the Ghost. “I made it link by link, and yard by yard; I girded it on of my own free will, and of my own free will I wore it. Is its pattern strange to you?”

      “Or would you know,” pursued the Ghost, “the weight and length of the strong coil you bear yourself? It was full as heavy and as long as this, seven Christmas Eves ago. You have laboured on it, since. It is a ponderous chain!”

    The ghost lets Scrooge know that his actions have far-reaching consequences too. He will suffer a similar fate if he doesn’t change his ways, but there’s still hope for redemption! He then leaves, announcing to Scrooge that he will soon be visited by three spirits that will guide him to a better path.

    Marley’s ghost serves as a warning, but also a sign of hope.

    The Ghosts of the Past: Forgiving Your Former Self

    Scrooge’s first encounter is with the “Ghost of Christmas Past,” who serves as a poignant reminder that we must confront our history to understand our present.

    The Ghost of Christmas Past transports Scrooge through various memories he had as a child and young adult, showing his psychological development over time.

    The first scene brings Scrooge back to his childhood town, where he is immediately rushed with feelings of nostalgia, cheerfulness, and joy. These positive memories depict a very different Scrooge from present, revealing his once optimistic and hopeful disposition. What happened to him since?

    The memories begin to grow darker. Multiple scenes show Scrooge spending Christmas alone as a young child, one time being left by himself at boarding school while his friends were celebrating the holidays with family, and another time sitting solitarily by the fire reading. Scrooge begins to shed tears and show sympathy toward his former, abandoned self.

    One of the most pivotal memories is when young adult Scrooge is speaking with his past lover. She notices a fundamental change in him that has become a dealbreaker in their relationship.

      “You fear the world too much,” she answered, gently…”I have seen your nobler aspirations fall off one-by-one, until the master-passion, Gain, engrosses you…”

    She sees that money has become Scrooge’s God which he puts above all other values, including love. The young woman continues…

      “Our contract is an old one. It was made when we were both poor and content to be so, until, in good season, we could improve our worldly fortune by our patient industry. You are changed. When it was made, you were another man.”

    Here we begin to see Scrooge’s hardening into the man he is in the present.

    His pursuit of wealth as his main source of comfort and satisfaction has damaged his relationship beyond repair. The lover sees no other option but for them to go their separate ways. The memory deeply pains Scrooge and he cries out for the ghost to show him no more.

    In truth we are all a product of our past, including our environment and the choices we make in life. Scrooge has clearly gone through hardships and taken wrong turns that have influenced where he finds himself today; but it’s not too late.

    The Ghost of Christmas Past forced Scrooge to remember events that he had long forgotten, neglected, or ignored because they were too painful to think about. While these old memories cannot be altered, you have to accept your past, be honest with yourself, and forgive yourself if you want to learn, grow, and change for the better.

    One of the main lessons here is that you need to take responsibility for the past before you can take power over the future. Scrooge is suffering, but he’s learning.

    Making the Most of the Present: Opportunities for Joy and Kindness

    Scrooge’s next encounter is with the “Ghost of Christmas Present,” who teaches Scrooge all the opportunities for good that cross his path every single day.

    The spirit is colorfully dressed with holly, mistletoe, berries, turkeys, sausages, oysters, pies, puddings, fruit, and punch surrounding him, a representation of the simple pleasures in life we can all learn to appreciate, savor, and be grateful for.

    First, the Ghost of Christmas Present takes Scrooge for a walk outside in the town during Christmas Day, observing all the happiness, zest, and cheer overflowing through the streets. Everyone from all backgrounds is enjoying the festivities.

    When two people bump into each other and start a small fight, the ghost sprinkles a magical substance on them which instantly ends the argument and brings both back to a more joyful demeanor.

      “Once or twice when there were angry words between some dinner-carriers who had jostled each other, he shed a few drops of water on them, and their good humour was restored directly. For they said, it was a shame to quarrel upon Christmas Day. And so it was! God love it, so it was!”

    On Christmas, all fights are optional.

    The ghost then leads Scrooge to the home of Bob Cratchit, his current employee who he often treats poorly. Here Scrooge is introduced to Bob’s sick and disabled son Tiny Tim, who despite his illness is still excited to spend holiday time with the family. The poor family makes the most of the limited food and time they have together, including a fake “goose” dinner made out of apple sauce and mashed potatoes.

    Scrooge looks on in sympathy and wishes he could do more to help them. He asks the spirit about the current state of Tiny Tim’s health:

      “Spirit,” said Scrooge, with an interest he never felt before, “tell me if Tiny Tim will live.”

      “I see a vacant seat,” replied the Ghost, “in the poor chimney-corner, and a crutch without an owner, carefully preserved. If these shadows remain unaltered by the Future, the child will die.”

    In another scene, Scrooge is transported to the home of his sister’s family, the same party his nephew invited him to the previous day. Everyone in the household is enjoying the Christmas holiday while singing, dancing, and playing games. Several times Scrooge is brought up in conversation and everyone can only laugh and shrug at Scrooge’s relentless misery and gloom.

      “A Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year to the old man, whatever he is!” said Scrooge’s nephew. “He wouldn’t take it from me, but may he have it nonetheless. Uncle Scrooge!”

    Scrooge knows that these events and perceptions by others are part of his own doing.

    At every turn, Scrooge denies taking advantage of daily opportunities for happiness, including rejecting a group of children singing carols, responding rudely to acquaintances (“Bah humbug!”), and refusing to give to charities or help others when it’s fully in his power.

    These events are small, but they build up over time. Whenever Scrooge is given a choice between kindness vs. coldness, he chooses to be cold. After enough tiny social interactions, Scrooge has cemented his reputation around town as being the miserable miser.

    Can he still change it?

    The Shadows of the Future: Shaping Tomorrow Today

    The final spirit Scrooge meets is the “Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come” or the “Ghost of Christmas Future.” This ghost blends in with the darkness of the night, wearing a long black robe that covers their entire face and body, except for a boney hand it uses to silently point.

    The ghost begins by showing men on the streets joking and laughing about someone who has just passed away. At a pawn shop, robbers are selling stolen property they recently seized from the dead man’s estate, saying it’s for the best since the items will no longer serve any use to him. Scrooge, perplexed by the meaning of these scenes, intently watches on. Another man jokes:

      “It’s likely to be a very cheap funeral, for upon my life I don’t know of anybody to go to it.”

    Scene by scene, people show ambivalence toward the death. Scrooge grows frustrated and asks:

      “If there is any person in the town who feels emotion caused by this man’s death, show that person to me. Spirit, I beseech you!”

    Now they see a family that was in debt to the dead man, and they are feeling humble gratitude and quiet glee that they no longer have to worry themselves about such an evil creditor:

      “Yes. Soften it as they would, their hearts were lighter. The children’s faces, hushed and clustered round to hear what they so little understood, were brighter; and it was a happier house for this man’s death! The only emotion that the Ghost could show him, caused by the event, was one of pleasure.”

    Already having suspicions on who this man is, Scrooge begs the ghost to finally reveal where his future lies. The ghost travels to a graveyard and points at a tombstone that upon inspection reads: Ebenezer Scrooge

    Scrooge’s heart sinks. Next it’s shown that Tiny Tim hasn’t recovered from his illness and has also passed away, and at such a young age. Feeling completely hopeless at this point, Scrooge desperately begs:

      “Answer me one question. Are these the shadows of the things that Will be, or are they shadows of things that May be, only?”

      “Men’s courses will foreshadow certain ends, to which, if persevered in, they must lead. But if the courses be departed from, the ends will change. Say it is thus with what you show me!”

    As long as you’re alive and breathing, you have the power to change.

    When we think about death, it puts everything about life into perspective. Our time is finite in this world and we must make the most of it without being distracted by trivialities and lesser values. If you were laying on your deathbed right now, what would your main regrets be?

    When Scrooge reflects on his own death and what influence he’d leave on the world, it shakes him at his core – but also transforms him.

    The Power of Redemption: Transforming Scrooge’s Tale into Our Own

    After the visitations of the three ghosts, Scrooge wakes up a changed man ready to start his new life. He rises from bed excited, hopeful, and giddy that he’s still alive and still has a chance to change his current course.

    Upon finding out it’s still Christmas Day, he buys a prize turkey to send to the Cratchit family and begins giving generous amounts of money to children and the poor. He continues to walk around the town square, giving everyone warm greetings and a hearty “Merry Christmas!”

    When he sees Bob Cratchit the next day at work, he immediately gives him a raise in salary and promises to take care of Tiny Tim and assist the family in anyway possible. He becomes a lifelong friend to the family.

    This sudden change in Scrooge’s behavior confused the townsfolk at first, including many who made fun of this rapid transformation that was so uncharacteristic of Scrooge. But these words and gossip didn’t bother him:

      “Some people laughed to see the alteration in him, but he let them laugh, and little heeded them; for he was wise enough to know that nothing ever happened on this globe, for good, at which some people did not have their fill of laughter[…] His own heart laughed: and that was quite enough for him.”

    At its core, “A Christmas Carol” is a story of redemption and heroism. Scrooge’s journey from miserly recluse to benevolent samaritan exemplifies the human capacity for change.

    By reflecting on his past, present, and future self, Scrooge discovered the best path forward – a process that applies to all forms of self-improvement.

    This story has insightful lessons that can apply to anyone’s life, no matter what situation they find themselves in. We can’t change the past chapters, but we can change how our story ends.

    Never forget you have the power to rewrite your life story at any time.


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    Steven Handel

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  • Going Cold Turkey: Breaking Free from the Chains of Unhealthy Behaviors

    Going Cold Turkey: Breaking Free from the Chains of Unhealthy Behaviors

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    Ready for a major lifestyle change? Uncover successful strategies when embracing the “cold turkey” approach to break bad habits, making the process of change both easy and manageable.


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    Steven Handel

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  • Why Does Chronic Pain Hurt So Much?

    Why Does Chronic Pain Hurt So Much?

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    You never forget the first time a doctor gives up: when they tell you that they don’t know what to do—they have no further tests to run, no treatments to offer—and that you’re on your own. It happened to me at the age of 27, and it happens to many others with chronic pain.

    I don’t remember what film I’d gone to see, but I know I was at The Oaks Theater, an old arts cinema on the outskirts of Pittsburgh, when pain stabbed me in the side. This was followed by an urgent need to urinate; after bolting to the bathroom, I felt better, but a band of tension ran through my groin. As the hours went by, the pain resolved into a need to pee again, which woke me up at 1 or 2 a.m. I went to the bathroom—but, as if I was in some bad dream, urinating made no difference. The band of sensation remained, insusceptible to feedback from my body. I spent a night of hallucinatory sleeplessness sprawled on the bathroom floor, peeing from time to time in a vain attempt to snooze the somatic alarm.

    My primary-care doctor guessed that I had a urinary-tract infection. But the test came back negative—as did more elaborate tests, including a cystoscopy in which an apparently teenage urologist inserted an old-fashioned cystoscope through my urethra in agonizing increments, like a telescopic radio antenna. It certainly felt like something was wrong, but the doctor found no visible lesion or infection.

    What followed were years of fruitless consultations, the last of which produced a label, chronic pelvic pain—which means what it sounds like and explains very little—and a discouraging prognosis. The condition is not well understood, and there is no reliable treatment. I live with the hum of pain as background noise, flare-ups decimating sleep from time to time.

    That pain is bad for you may seem too obvious to warrant scrutiny. But as a philosopher, I find myself asking why it is so bad—especially in a case like mine, where the pain I feel from day to day is not debilitating. To my relief, I am able to function pretty well; sleep deprivation is the worst of it. What more is there to say about the harm of being in pain?

    Virginia Woolf may have invented the commonplace that language struggles to communicate pain. “English, which can express the thoughts of Hamlet and the tragedy of Lear,” she wrote, “has no words for the shiver and the headache.” Woolf’s maxim was developed by the literary and cultural critic Elaine Scarry in The Body in Pain, a book that has become a classic. “Physical pain—unlike any other state of consciousness—has no referential content,” she wrote. “It is not of or for anything. It is precisely because it takes no object that it, more than any other phenomenon, resists objectification in language.”

    But as someone who has lived with pain for 19 years, I think Woolf and Scarry are wrong. Physical pain has “referential content”: It represents a part of the body as being damaged or imperiled even when, as in my case, it isn’t really. Pain can be deceptive. And we have many words for it: Pulsing, burning, and contracting are all good words for mine.

    That pain represents the body in distress, bringing it into focus, helps us better understand why it is bad. Pain disrupts what the philosopher and physician Drew Leder calls the “transparency” of the healthy body. We don’t normally attend to the bodies itself; instead, we interact with the world “through” it, as if it was a transparent medium. Being in pain blurs the corporeal glass. That’s why pain is not just bad in itself: It impedes one’s access to anything good.

    This accounts for one of pain’s illusions. Sometimes, I think I want nothing more than to be pain free—but as soon as pain is gone, the body recedes into the background, unappreciated. The joy of being free of pain is like a picture that vanishes when you try to look at it, like turning on the lights to see the dark.

    Philosophy illuminates another side of pain—in a way that has practical upshots. This has to do with understanding persistent pain as more than just a sequence of atomized sensations. The temporality of pain transforms its character.

    Although I am not always in notable pain, I’m never aware of pain’s onset or relief. By the time I realize it has vanished from the radar of attention, it has been quiet for a while. When the pain is unignorable, it seems like it’s been there forever and will never go away. I can’t project into a future free of pain: I will never be physically at ease. Leder, who also suffers from chronic pain, traces its effects on memory and anticipation: “With chronic suffering a painless past is all but forgotten. While knowing intellectually that we were once not in pain we have lost the bodily memory of how this felt. Similarly, a painless future may be unimaginable.”

    We can draw two lessons from this. The first is that we have to focus on the present, not on what is coming in the future: If you can treat pain as a series of self-contained episodes, you can diminish its power. I try to live by what I call the “Kimmy Schmidt rule,” after the sitcom heroine who endured 15 years in an underground bunker with the mantra “You can stand anything for 10 seconds.” My units of time are longer, but I do my imperfect best not to project beyond them. You can have a good day while experiencing pelvic pain. And life is just one day after another.

    The second lesson is that there’s less to what philosophers call “the separateness of persons” than might appear. Moral philosophers have argued that concern for others does not simply aggregate their harms. If you have to choose between agony for one person or mild headaches for many others, you should choose the headaches, no matter the number. The relief of minor pain for many cannot offset the agony of one, because the pains afflict distinct and separate people. They don’t add up.

    Do trade-offs like this make sense within a single life? Philosophers often say they do, but I’ve come to believe that’s wrong. If what I was experiencing was just a sequence of atomized pains, without effects on memory or anticipation, I don’t think it would make sense to trade them for short-lived agony—a three-hour surgery performed without anesthetic, say—any more than it would make sense to trade a million mild headaches for the agony of one person. If I would choose to undergo that surgery, it would be because of the temporal effects of chronic pain, the shadow it casts over past and future.

    A lot has been made of pain’s unshareability, how it divides us from one another. In fact, pain is no more shareable over time. My mother-in-law once asked, rhetorically, “Why can one man not piss for another man?” But you can’t piss for your past or future self either. And as we bridge the gulf between now and then to sympathize with ourselves at other times, we sympathize too with the suffering of others. Self-compassion is not the same as compassion for other people, but they are not as different as they seem. There is solace in solidarity, in sharing the experience of chronic pain, in compassion’s power to breach the boundaries that separate us from other people, and ourselves.

    This article has been excerpted from Kieran Setiya’s new book, Life Is Hard: How Philosophy Can Help Us Find Our Way.

    When you buy a book using a link on this page, we receive a commission. Thank you for supporting The Atlantic.

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    Kieran Setiya

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