Fighting the Janus Syndrome

Janus is the Roman god of gates and doors, starts and endings, and beginnings and transitions. He is typically depicted in mythology, sculpture, and art as a two-faced figure, looking both to the future, and to the past.  The Janus Syndrome refers to a person who is continually looking to their glorious past, or to their potentially glorious future at the expense of missing their glorious present. Too often, I find myself doing just this – especially when the current circumstances are difficult, unpleasant, or uninteresting.

            Curiously, I didn’t know that there was a science-fiction book by the name of “The Janus Syndrome” written by Stephen McDonald,  or that other people had actually used the term “Janus Syndrome” to describe their struggle with living in the present, but they’re out there, and only a Google search away. What I do find interesting however, is that the title of this post would come to me unbidden, and with its concepts clearly laid out in my mind. I find myself longing for my less-complicated past, while waiting every day for things to get better and improve. 

           

What was so great about it? Looking at my past

            My past was much less complicated than my present. I owe this to being more trusting and accepting of ideals and philosophies thrust at me with conviction and fervor. As a child I was raised in a highly religious community that almost made it impossible to have a life without participating in that religion. Everything from your circle of friends at school, to your employment opportunities were often guided by and acted upon the religious community in which you lived. Lack of participation was frowned upon, while over-participation was seen as an admirable thing. Independent thinking and questioning of the status-quo was discouraged and often viewed as the vehicle that would bring about your spiritual and cultural destruction. In fact, one leader of the religion I belonged to so strongly despised free-thinking, that he warned congregants world-wide to be careful of being “counted amongst those who have intellectualized themselves out of the church and thereby have brought upon themselves swift destruction.” Of course, he was also part of the leadership who instructed its members that “once the brethren have spoken, the thinking has been done.” How could such restrictive thinking be “less complicated?” Well, when you’re relieved of the responsibility of thinking for yourself, and simply “walk by faith,” you are free to blindly accept the consequences of such a behavior without accepting the responsibilities that came with it.

            Thankfully, I divested myself of this religion almost thirty years ago, only to willingly subject myself to another religious system which was only slightly less restrictive. While continually being encouraged to study and seek for myself what the “word of god” had to say about a subject, I was soundly shouted down or sternly corrected should my conclusions differ from those to whom I had given authority over and stewardship of in my life. Once more I found myself having my opinion given to me rather than discovering it on my own through thoughtful research and pondering. Some would call this experience jumping out of the frying pan into the fire, and I’m inclined to agree with them. But it wasn’t all bad. In fact, it was pretty comforting and satisfying to feel as though I belonged and that I was right. But what it didn’t provide was clarity or personal satisfaction.

            So why look back with longing and emotion? I look back because I no longer have the comfort and assurance of believing I was in the right, or being part of the chosen few. Those feelings have been replaced with the realization that I am responsible for myself, my own actions, my own behaviors towards others, and mostly, for my own eternal future – whatever that may be. It can be daunting at times. It can feel pretty damn heavy and overwhelming – if truth be told. I no longer have a safety net. If something goes wrong with my life, I’m responsible! I can no longer blame it on the will of some unseen god. It means I own my reality.

            Fond remembrances are a good thing. “Ah, the good old days,” means as much to me as anyone, but living in the past – continually comparing your present to your past achievements – is as debilitating as doing nothing at all. The past is the past, and the future is being made right now by your present.

What’s going to be so great then? Looking at my future

            Human beings are incurable optimists at times. It’s pounded into our thinking from a young age, and we live in the hope of a better future our entire lives. The whole, “The Sun’ll Come Out, Tomorrow” mentality is what gives us hope and helps us get through another day. In fact, I just opened my fortune cookie with dinner and it read, “Without hope, there is no tomorrow!”  So it’s not a bad thing, per-se, but it can sometimes turn our eyes away from the beauty of the moment we’re experiencing now. Sometimes, it can be downright debilitating! How many times have we put off facing our harsh realities in hopes of things improving tomorrow? I do it all the time. How often do we invest our last dollar in the hopes of winning the lottery – in spite of the tremendous odds against us hitting the jackpot? How often do we long for the return of a god to set things right? How often do we hope that maybe tomorrow the abuse will stop?

            We’ve all heard it said that when a person is “without hope”, they’re done for, or that we’d never get out of bed without the hope of a better day. We’ve all put our dreams and desires on some future event, and chances are we’ve all been disappointed for having done so. So what is the use of looking to the future? Continually investing your dreams in some future event or success only lessens your ability to see what is right before your eyes in the present. I am not suggesting that a person not invest emotionally or mentally in their futures – there is a lot of wisdom in visualizing success and then pursuing that dream – but what I am saying is that I have been guilty of looking towards that future as a means of avoiding the present, and as a means of escape. I’m no expert, but I can imagine that this isn’t too healthy.

            Of course, without dreaming of tomorrow, we’d be stagnant and unproductive. Many of the technological advancements we enjoy would never have come to pass had someone not dreamed about them in the past. Many of the life-saving medical advancements are a direct result of someone dreaming of a future without sickness, without disease, without pain and suffering. The future isn’t the problem – the avoidance of the present is, and that is why the Janus Syndrome is so dangerous.

Fighting to remain in the moment

            Because of my tendency to view my past as such a good thing, and to hope that my tomorrows are going to be so much better than my present, I find myself not participating in the here and now. I keep waiting for things to get better, or for them to change, and when they don’t, I turn back and remember how good they used to be – the Janus Syndrome.

One excellent example of this in my life is waiting until my wife graduates college and begins her practice as a nurse practitioner to begin writing seriously. I have notebooks with tons of ideas for stories in them, and they remain closed, waiting for some glorious time in the future when “the time will be right.” Conversely, when I get discouraged about not writing, I go out on the internet and re-read my blog posts and marvel at how well-written they are, and how I seemed to be really doing something with my life. Longing for a future situation while living in my past – and all the while completely ignoring what is right in front of me.

So, my way of fighting my own personal Janus Syndrome is that I am going to post this to my blog, and begin writing again. I will be able to look back at this post and be encouraged to do what I need to do now to make all those future possibilities come true. It starts with living in the now, taking it one step, one post, one task at a time, and enjoying the fruits of productivity and drive. I can do this. Thank you past, look out future.