The Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come

And Times Long Past

Happy Almost New Year!

A sweet reminder that there are a few days left to get the December annual subscription discount here. Taking the yearly subscription from $50 down to a cool $40.

There is so much interesting writing on this transitory period between the past (December) and the future (January). So, as we count down to December 31st, I wanted to go down my final rabbit hole of the year.

January is named after Janus, the Pagan Roman god of beginnings and endings and of gates and doors.

He was depicted having two faces with one face looking to what is behind and with one face looking toward what lies ahead. The reasoning behind the symbolism of the two faces is that both gates and doors have two sides and to end something and to start a new beginning, one must pass through being on one side or the other, not remaining in the middle.

Two mice looking towards the past and the future.

You can now buy this in various clothing styles in my shop.

Almost all languages use metaphor to describe time, mostly using the concept of space. An English speaker will† say “we are approaching the deadline,” implying the deadline exists in a place, or a room somewhere full of computers.

I recently bought this print at a flea-market and never imagined it could be so relevant.

Unlike Western culture, where we face the future with our back to the past, in Aymara culture, they believe the past is in front of them and the future is behind.

The Aymara word for past is transcribed as nayra , which literally means eye, sight or front. The word for future is q"ipa , which translates as behind or the back. Q"ipüru , the Aymara word for tomorrow, combines q"ipa and uru , the word for day, to produce a literal meaning of "some day behind one's back".

What is so interesting about this delineation, is the influence it has on the Aymara people:

In their 1975 paper, Miracle and Yapita described the "great patience" of the Aymara, who thought nothing of waiting half a day for a truck to take them to market. People from English-speaking cultures like to plan, and feel outraged when life intervenes. But if you can't see the future, says Marta Hardman, an anthropologist at the University of Florida, there seems less point in planning.

Charles Dickens felt differently. The Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come is said to be a personification of Death, and like the Future itself, the Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come is unknown, mysterious and silent. I have been listening to the podcast ‘Articles of Interest’ and in the episode on wedding dresses I learnt that some members of the Jewish diaspora used to marry in their burial shroud, a caftan-like tunic made of linen.

The burial shroud would be worn during the wedding, for both men and women. And it was a way of reminding people at this very important moment in their lives of their mortality. So on the two most significant days of your adult existence, you’d be wearing the same thing.

To not worry about the future, or to welcome it into the present, feels like a much healthier approach to the future then… say… this:

Although you know what, maybe it’s Ghost Yet to Come’s wedding day and they’re just sporting their burial shroud. One should never jump to conclusions.

As a casual aside, I also learnt that the tradition to wear white at your wedding is relatively new, brought in by Queen Victoria, and so I have given myself full permission to wear this Miu Miu jacket instead:

Disclaimer - this girl cannot afford Miu Miu.

OK, back to the future!

Unlike the two previous Spirits who came at the stroke of one, the Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come makes its appearance on the last stroke of twelve, the Witching Hour, which feels very in alignment with our coming countdown: all collectively counting down to the Witching Hour. I also did not realize that in the book, the ghosts come three nights in a row rather than all in one night like in the iconic Muppet Christmas Carol. What did Scrooge do in between? Just try to have a normal day?

As the hour strikes twelve tonight, people will sing what I believe to be the most devastating song in human existence, Auld Lang Syne. I’ve never been down an Auld Lang Syne rabbit hole, but oh baby am I about to!

For those not familiar, the first lyrics of Auld Lang Syne lilt:

Should auld acquaintance be forgot
And never brought to mind?
Should auld acquaintance be forgot
And days of auld lang syne?

In Scotland you sing the song in a circle holding hands, and when you reach the last verse, which begins with “And there’s a hand my trusty friend,” everyone crosses their arms so their right hand reaches out to their neighbor’s left hand. At the end of the song, you rush into the center and turn, so that everyone leaves the circle facing outwards. Towards the future or the past depending on your culture.

Auld Lang Syne means Times Long Past and the lyrics are said to be based on a poem by Robert Burns. But there are other poems that predate him, including James Watson’s 1711 poem which begins:

Should Old Acquaintance be forgot,
and never thought upon;
The flames of Love extinguished,
and fully past and gone:
Is thy sweet Heart now grown so cold,
that loving Breast of thine;
That thou canst never once reflect
On old long syne.

Which is devastating of course, and reminds me of this fact:

Before introducing the beloved classic “Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas” to the world, Judy Garland urged composer Hugh Martin to write a lighter second line than “It may be your last.” He landed on “Let your heart be light” instead, and the rest is holiday history.

Maybe one day they’ll release “Have yourself a Merry Little Christmas” #Hugh’sVersion

Even the poem by Robert Burns contained passages that did not make it into the current iteration of the Auld Lang Syne, and I think are very beautiful:

We two have run about the hills,
And picked the daisies fine;
But we’ve wandered many a weary foot
Since auld lang syne.

We two have paddled in the stream,
From morning sun till dine;
But seas between us broad have roared
Since auld lang syne.

In Scotland it is sung at funerals which feels like a far more fitting venue, and in Japan they play it in stores to let their customers know that they are closing for the day. Presumably so people can reminisce about the time the shop was open.

Every iteration of this song makes me sad. It makes me sad like this song does. Or one of the more haunting Simon and Garfunkel tracks. A wistful reflection on lost time that brings a tear to my eye. I’ve always avoided singing it as it feels like it bring a haunting note to a brand new year, but this year i’ll be embracing it.

At the end of a Christmas Carol, Scrooge is encouraged to live more in the past, the present and the future, and I too, a relatively grumpy British person, want to embody the more cyclical nature of time, not just facing into the future and trying to improve myself until I die. To quote our Alan:

How long have the planets been circling the sun? Are they getting anywhere, and do they go faster and faster in order to arrive? How often has the spring returned to the earth? Does it comes faster and fancier every year, to be sure to be better than last spring, and to hurry on its way to the spring that shall out spring all springs? 

At the end of every year I write down the things that happened to me in the past year, and my resolutions for the one ahead. They’re usually done as two separate thoughts, but this year I wanted to channel Janus, and look with one face to what is behind me, and with one face toward what lies ahead.

I thought about what made me happiest this year, and instead of writing resolutions, I wrote down what about those things made me so happy so I can more easily embrace them in the future.

My friend Dan is very into the Ikigai chart and it felt relevant as we pad towards January:

Last year I think my ‘Reason for Being’ showed up most when I worked on a sheep farm, helping deliver baby lambs:

Next year, we shall see - i’m trying not to look too hard at it.

Please feel free to share your ‘reason for being’ in the comments. Thank you so much for reading along with me this year. Writing this Substack, and connecting with all of you has helped me emerge from a period of gnarly burnout and has made me feel like I have a voice again. I am incredibly grateful to all of you for your support.

Happy New Year, I will see you there.