A Change of My Viewpoint...

Denis Diderot, a philosopher from the mid 18th century said, "There are things I cannot force. I must adjust. There are times when the greatest change needed is a change of my viewpoint." I think this quote accurately sums up the transformation my mind has been going through over the last couple of years. In fact, I can't think of anything that captures it quite so well. Part of me has been calling it "an awakening." Another part of me may have cataloged it a "coming of age," or a "seasoning of my senses." But whatever it is - however it is properly called, it can best be said that I have experienced "... a change of my viewpoint."

Portrait of Denis Diderot by
Louis-Michel van Loo - 1767

"There are Things I Cannot Force..."

Doesn't it seem that our lives are one long drawn out experience of trying to force our surroundings, our loved ones, our fellow beings, or our circumstances into an ideal, or a vision of perfection? Typically, we have these ideals or visions thrust upon us through religion, society, familial expectations, breeding, social standing, or economics - to name a few. Something always seems to form the ideal. While I would have to concede that most of us have been successful to one degree or another in bending our circle of influence to our ideals, we have patently failed when it came to bending other beings - other human beings - to an ideal to which they were resistant. When this happens, we call them any number of descriptor - such as "heathens," "god-less," "unenlightened," "foolish," "blind," "stubborn," etc. Why is that?

I remember a time when I thought of some people whose life choices and preferences were different from mine, as being "reprobate," "foul," "unworthy of life," or "irredeemable." I remember viewing persons who would not accept my theology as being, "unsaved," "unwashed," "sheeple," "intentionally ignorant," and "blind." I've known people who viewed others whose skin color wasn't the same as theirs as being "unvaliant," "lazy," "slothful," "dirty," "foul," and "inferior." I've seen people who treat others less economically well off as being "from the wrong side of the tracks," "unworthy of help," "getting what they deserve," "leeches," "drains on our economy," or "reprobates, unwilling to get off their asses and work." 

When I think of the amount of time I've wasted in my life trying to force others into my ideal, I find myself shaking my head, and mourning the loss of time when I could have been living. When I could have been enjoying the people for who they are. When I could have been a light.

"I Must Adjust..."

I suppose the best way for me to say this - and to reach the largest portion of people to whom I know will read this - I will use a word typically used as a weapon and a tool of the religious - and that word is repent. For me to expect others to change towards me - to fit into the mold I have created, or the way of thinking to which I subscribe, would be futile. I'd be trying to force someone to think like I do. It is I who must adjust. To repent is to "recognize the wrong in something you have done, and be sorry about it" (Encarta Dictionary). So, without offense to my religious friends, I will co-opt this word - repent - and say that I recognize I've been wrong in so many ways and in so many things in my life - and I'm sorry for it. In other words, I repent. It is I who must adjust. Now don't get me wrong here - I'm not going to confessional and flailing my back with chains as I crawl on my knees to show remorse to any god or religion - instead, I'm meekly, and humbly saying I must adjust my viewpoint. I have been wrong. I repent - that is to say, I recognize I've been wrong and I'm sorry for it.

As I was driving to work this morning listening to NPR, I was struck by the horror and savagery of the world in which we live. The newscaster was talking about a recent massacre carried out on innocents in another country, on another continent - a world away - by people who would prefer to force their views and their religious zealotry and their intolerance on the people of their own country. As I listened, the thought came unbidden into my mind that we fear what we can't control and the only way to eliminate that fear is to cease our attempts to exercise control and to adjust our viewpoint of what we fear. Now I know I'm not breaking any new ground here, and there are plenty of others much more qualified to explain that thought than I am - but it stuck me as being pretty profound. I must adjust. I must change how I see what scares me, what I can't change, what I can't force.

"There are Times When the Greatest Change Needed is a Change of my Viewpoint!"

From thelondondiaries1.blogspot.com

I think one of the most liberating experiences of my life came a few years back when I realized that I didn't have to accept the reality I had always known, and that I could create my own. When I realized that just because I'd been told something all my life, it didn't make it true, and I was honestly scared. Scared? Yes. Suddenly, with that thought, it was though I had taken that first step out of a perfectly good airplane to skydive for the first time, or that first terrifying step backwards off a cliff to repel down it's face. All of my common sense told me that I was okay - that I'd checked, double-checked, and even triple-checked my equipment, and that I was safe, but inside of me, my irrational self was screaming in sheer terror and shitting it's pants. And, in keeping with the metaphor, when all was said and done, and I'd made it safely to the bottom of the cliff, and the chute opened and deposited me safely on terra-firma, I found a new and thrilling emotion welling up inside of me that made me feel like I could do anything! Conquer anything! Overcome anything! And yet, I hadn't stepped out of an airplane. I hadn't repelled off a cliff. I had simply changed my viewpoint. 

I realize that this sounds simple - and not necessarily in the "easy" kind of way - but more in the "Mikey needs to wear a bicycle helmet for his own protection" kind of way. And it is because it's simple that it is wholly disregarded and neglected. How many of us have belonged to groups or mindsets that would have us only see the evil in the world around us and in our fellow man? To be bogged down in the traditions, the liturgies, the practices that have created the evil we abhor? How many of us have looked at our fellow man and judged them inferior or unworthy of our attentions and care because their skin was a different color, their clothing wasn't clean, their god wasn't our god, their values didn't match our own? How many opportunities for joy, peace, and mutual trust were lost because they were different? How many of us are in need of a simple change of viewpoint? I know I am. Let it begin with me.

"There are things I cannot force. I must adjust. There are times when the greatest change needed is a change of my viewpoint."  Denis Diderot 1713 - 1784 

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.