The Ghost of Christmas Past - A Guided Story
Experience
(Originally composed for a coffee house experiment
at a cafe in the Depot Town district of Ypsilanti, Michigan, near my
home)
I am the Ghost of Christmas Past,
Guiding you back to a moment in time when childhood happiness did not last.
As we meet, by fate, in this wonderful railroad-side cafe,
Listen close to what I have to say.
Let me make it clear,
While we are all still here, you do not have to fear revisiting that tear.
We are going back to that memory, to heal that sore,
Keeping you from being all of who you are, but wait there's more.
When we are done, that memory will leave much less a taste so sour,
And instead will empower.
We will first view that scene through a window, but unlike in that tale of
Dickens'
We will find the trick in,
You will have a chance to walk into that scene and deal with those emotions
that were so wild.
Your child-self will be there, and you as an adult added to the scene, quite
reassuring, patient, and mild.
In my time as an earthling, I did finally learn one thing,
That now does make my heart sing.
It is that what kept me obsessing, keeping me up with obsessors among the
best,
And upon this, your thoughts should now rest,
Is that when looking back at childhood memories, deal with those memories as a
reassuring adult and not as the child you were,
Or the pain will just reoccur, and reoccur, and re--oh--curr!
So close your eyes now, relax every muscle,
In your chair do not tussle.
Just let your mind show you how,
And let each nerve take a gentle bow.
So close your eyes now, relax every muscle,
In your chair do not tussle.
Just let your mind show you how,
And let each nerve take a gentle bow.
We are now standing outside, looking in at that childhood scene - yes right
now!
At this childhood scene, go back and feel the weather?
Is there a mild wind blowing now, to gently carry a feather?
Or is there a mighty gust,
And inside everyone saying - What ---- they --- must?
Or is it snowing?
Or is a summer breeze blowing?
And inside is there your parents, standing firm, affirming to you, that they
are all knowing?
And at your heart strings does something keep towing?
Who else is in that room,
And what energies just keep seeming to resume, and resume and-to-re-sume?
What family members, or friends, or neighbors are there?
To reconstruct this moment, take some time and care.
The window is now starting to open,
At our revisit we will let some hope in.
What sounds are you hearing,
Bouncing through time like a sonic mirroring.
What smells are you smelling?
This helps to let the story do the telling?
Is your child-self starting to touch,
Something he or she did love so much.
With the guidance of this benevolent ghost,
Compassion for all in that room, including your child-self, is what you should
now focus on most.
Upon that window you now hear compassionate droplets making the sound - think,
think, think.
Upon that window you now hear compassionate droplets making the sound - think,
think, think.
Now, you are surrounded with a compassionate warming mist - let all your pores
take in a drink, drink, drink.
Now, you are surrounded with a compassionate warming mist - let all your pores
take in a drink, drink, drink.
Now focus in on each member of that scene.
What insight did you glean?
Were you, he, or she just trying to be mean,
Or just being controlled by that scene?
Now you can walk in through that window, with me covering your back.
Remember, you are not in there to attack.
So how do you define your role,
As this suddenly appearing mysterious mole.
A long-lost-uncle or aunt, a doctor, a social worker, or a kindly new
neighbor,
Just what kind of compassionate enabler?
Talk to your child-self, and all the other important players of that moment,
some individually, some together,
This is your story, so you encourage the whatever.
Encourage them to reveal a truthful morsel from your package of magically
nourishing donuts,
And not telling each of them, "you people are so nuts!"
As each of them share or privately consume each insightful morsel,
Concentrate on the healing feelings going all through your torso,
For all are now declaring victory
And rewriting the meaning of this history.
Now let go of all the negative feelings by throwing them up to the sky,
Watching them climbing ever and ever high,
Turning into a beautiful multi-colored and multi-textured confetti.
Then falling down upon a flowerbed ever ready,
Providing compost for spouting vegetables, herbs, and flowers,
To give you a healing feeling that empowers.
But be patient with your new garden's growth I say...
...Now -- I return you back to that Depot Town Cafe.
May you now appreciate the meaning of each day,
Of even the tinniest sun ray.
If you ever travel back to that moment, think of that confetti,
Reminding you of the moment's renewed meaning, so your empowering emotions are
on the ready.
May you now appreciate the meaning of each day,
Of even the tinniest sun ray.
An arrangement of Lake Michigan stones and shells done recently by the author's mother
A Son's Thanksgiving
By Donald Michael Schwartz, Nov. 22, 2007
My mother has advanced Alzheimer's
But there is thanksgiving and gratefulness,
Hidden within the sorrow.
I ink my thoughts,
On this 2007 day of thanks,
For the strength of my Mother's true spirit is rolling, it keeps rolling along.
For the strength of my Mother's true spirit is rolling, it keeps rolling along,
For she is stronger, tougher, wiser and larger than her Alzheimer's,
And for this I give thanks;
And gratefulness,
I can free a precious few of her thoughts,
And calm her sorrow.
In her presence, I am greater than all the world's sorrow,
For the strength of my Mother's true spirit is rolling, it keeps rolling along.
Even though most of her thoughts,
Are imprisoned by the Bastille of her Alzheimer's;
For those few thoughts she can break free, she has gratefulness,
And teary thanks.
And I give thanks,
For fighting through my sorrow,
At the recent loss of her walking abilities, pledging gratefulness,
Of the strength of my Mother's true spirit as it rolling, as it keeps rolling
along.
What else will be stolen by her Alzheimer's,
Can obsess my thoughts.
On this day of thanks, above my Mother's bed, now hangs her pre-wedding
portrait, freeing some of her thoughts,
And making her feel thanks,
For a mind's glimpse of her life long before the thief of Alzheimer's.
Spying upon her once coal-black hair and vibrant facial colors dwarfed her
sorrow,
As the strength of my Mother's true spirit kept rolling, as it kept rolling
along.
And for this I have infinite gratefulness.
Riding back from the nursing home on a recent night, I felt a rush of
gratefulness,
Many tiny victories flowed together into a raging river of thoughts,
Surging through my mind the sweeping awareness of the strength of my Mother's
true spirit that kept rolling, as it always keeps rolling along.
I must keep giving thanks,
And be larger than the sorrow,
And to keep my spirit from the greedy thief of Alzheimer's.
So I say to the thief of Alzheimer's, you can never grow larger, stronger,
tougher, or wiser than gratefulness,
And the sorrow you serve can never out power the sweetness of the thoughts,
Of my thanks for the strength of my Mother's true spirit as it keeps on rolling,
as it keeps on rolling along.
The Clinton River flowing into Dinosaur Hill Nature Preserve, Rochester Hills, MI (Near where the author and his mother used to live).
Swimming Against the River - No More?
By Donald Michael Schwartz, Nov. 10, 2007
My plot to escape from anger,
Has been influenced by the lunacy of my obsessions,
Always swimming toward it,
Obsessing over my past,
But time is like a river,
Always moving forward.
Swimming against it didn't move me forward,
My legs and arms were just keeping pace with my anger,
Sending me into an eddy of that river,
Angry know-it-alls, inept political leaders and soured relations among my obsessions,
I was drinking too much from the foul waters of the past,
Ignoring too many of the past's sweet moments and lessons. Not getting it.
But do I finally get it?
Time is always moving forward,
So must I let go of the past?
Say goodbye to anger?
Do I love my obsessions,
More than the enlighten places for which I can be propelled forward to by the
currents of that river?
No! I must make time's river,
My friend, yes that's it.
Intoxicate myself no more with my obsessions,
Instead moving forward,
Saying goodbye to anger,
Declaring, NOW, myself a winner over my past.
And when anger from the past,
Tries to pull me up river,
Then I'll say, "com' on anger,
Be my headwind, yes that's it."
I am now a wise sailor using the headwinds of anger to propel my vessel forward,
Tacking starboard and port, becoming larger than my obsessions.
Even when the asylum of my mind lets out more of my obsessions,
Reminding me more about the negativities of my past,
Keeping me from moving forward,
Down time's impatient river,
I will look toward those who -- get it,
Who say, "happiness comes from building strength from within, not from erasing
the outside forces of anger!"
Oh! Anger is the treasure of obsessions,
It is the nectar they constantly seek out from the past.
But I seek out no more angers from the past, but instead, I am moving with
time's river from now on - always moving forward.
I promise,
Myself,
To forget the mistakes,
Of the past,
And press on to the greater achievements,
Of the future.
For in my outstretched left hand, I hold up the future,
A snow globe filled with promise,
Of fellow adventurers' achievements,
And those achievements of myself.
We will all declare ourselves victors over our past,
Ready to move on beyond our mistakes.
I will use my mistakes,
Only as fuel to power my future,
Past my past,
On to the promise,
To myself,
Of greater achievements.
Let us travel down the road together toward our
achievements,
And make compost out of our mistakes.
I won't use my composted mistakes as fuel just for myself,
But also to fuel a future,
For those to whom I made a promise,
To learn from my past.
Let us all use our past,
To fuel our achievements,
And to each other, make a promise,
To be empowered by our mistakes,
Moving toward a bright future,
Each of us saying, "I can't do it by myself."
"As for myself, I will look to my higher power, and not just myself,
To unchain myself from the mistakes of my past,
And move toward a bright future,
Full of achievements,
Using the lessons of my mistakes,
To fulfill a greater promise."
I promise myself,
To show myself and others how to use the mistakes of our past,
As fuel to manufacture greater achievements of our future.
photos and words copyright 2007, by Donald Michael Schwartz