Janus Peers Into the Future & the Past

The Roman God of Transitions is the sentry of the Gregorian calendar’s new year.  Two-faced, he represents dualism, and the ability to contain seemingly oppositional concepts simultaneously: what was and what will be.  

How is it that we can hold within us both the past and the future?  How is it that we can contain multitudes?  How do we rectify this dichotomy within us?

So much emphasis is placed on letting go of the prior year–especially when said year was politically, physically, emotionally, and psychologically taxing–and so little is spoken about reconciling those pieces with the incoming new year.  I’m not one to shout loudly from rooftops that all should be relinquished to the past, scribbled on pieces of parchment and burned like a sacrificial lamb on NYE.  Instead, I’m one who approaches these transitions, these thresholds, with quiet observation and introspection.  

How exactly did the past year lead me to this moment?  What trajectory am I now on, that will guide me further along my path?  Where did I misstep, stumble, hesitate?  Where did I forge ahead, gain ground, perspective?

I don’t want to lose those pieces of 2025.  I don’t want to surrender the successes and lessons and momentum that I generated–I want them to propel me into the new year with quiet determination and hard-won tenacity.  I earned it through perseverance and with uncanny grit…like so many of you did, as well.  Of course there are bits and pieces of 2025 that I’m more than happy to say goodbye to–it was the year of the snake–shedding;  releasing and transforming were integral to 2025, and that energy will carry through for another month and a half into 2026.  But shedding and releasing isn’t a relinquishing of all that makes you “you”.  It’s creating space for growth and expansion of who you are at your core to blossom into something MORE.  That work is worth noting, celebrating, and leaning into.

So although I don’t take much stock in the Gregorian calendar, save to stay aligned with the agreed upon start and endings of appointments and whatnot for logistical reasons–I do recognize its significance.  So I honor it softly:  the opening of a back door (or window), and the sweeping of the floors on the new year’s eve.  The laying of salt, lighting of candles, and whispers of hope and resilience and joy for the approaching twelve months on the new day.  The mindful consumption of foods meant to bring health and wealth to the hearth. I acknowledge and recognize deeply the spiraling, cyclic nature of our Lived Experiences, and I honor where I’ve come from as a testament to where I’m headed. 

Regardless of when you choose to ring in the new year (the ruckus of bells and knocking meant to fend off ill-intentioned spirits), I pray that you spend a few moments in remembrance of just how far you’ve come, and how much you’ve survived in the past year…and celebrate yourself.  

Happy New Year when it arrives, one and all.