As we move into February, the month so commercially associated with Valentine’s Day, we take a look at the true meaning behind our months and the events we celebrate in them.

As with many aspects of our cultural origins, it’s all a bit of a jumble but, for the most part, we can thank the Romans. In this case, this also proves to be true.

The month we have just closed a door to, January, is named after the Roman god Janus. He is fascinatingly the owner of two faces; who is thus able to see the past as well as the future. Janus also happens to be the god of doors (januae) and archways (jani), which is apt, as having two faces and such a gift of vision go hand-in-hand with the notion of beginnings and endings.

It’s as though January, through Janus, is there to prepare us for the new year and the transition of the months ahead. Closing and opening the doors of time is exactly what we each have to do with every challenge or opportunity that comes our way in life. 

The term ‘Janus-faced’ might be a familiar one and is derived from the two-faced god Janus. It is used to describe contrasting aspects of a person, especially those who are unprincipled or simply two-faced!

Rites of passage move us away from the superficiality of life towards the essentials, which have remained constant

Then we move into February, which was associated with the idea of purification for the Romans. But how does that translate into our lives and how we now celebrate St Valentine’s Day? The Romans celebrated the feast of purification, called Februa (also called Lupercalia) which, in turn, created the god Februus.

Jacobus Harrewyn, January, 1698 from The Months, Victoria and Albert Museum

Such rituals and festivals, though possibly peculiar  to our eyes, were a form of cleansing for the cities and their inhabitants, for them to be able to start afresh, healthy and fertile. Februa was then replaced with the feast of St Valentine, especially ingrained in literary culture through the likes of Chaucer and the poetic traditions of his time.

Looking back at these rituals and those we uphold today, it is most interesting to recognise how they connect us to mythology.

The bones of these rites of passage come to us from a time when people created stories of gods and goddesses and their interaction with mortals. So, in this way, these simple elements today link us with the ancient past. In the old religions, dressing oneself in readiness for purity and also preparing for death made one immune and inaccessible to evil. Rites of passage move us away from the superficiality of life towards the essentials, which have remained constant since the Paleolithic caves (from the Old Stone Age).

These essential rituals in essence firstly revolve around art for the sake of art - beauty before practicality - and secondly around burial.  Regardless of how our contemporary culture capitalises on these events, we can still take the essence of their true meaning for our soul. These events are rites of passage, that enable us to be transformed - to move from childhood to adolescence to adulthood.

As Goethe put it in Wanderer’s Nightsong, “On the tops of all the hills, there is silence. In the tops of the trees, you feel hardly a breath. The little bird falls silent in the trees. Simply wait. Soon, you too will be silent.”