How trivial is one's own life? Does loneliness create more loneliness? Does the "weather" factor into our mood, our sense of hope, our joy?
The "slough of despond" was a phrase I have always remembered and held onto from my days in "Pilgrim" Literature -- Bunyan, Hawthorne,et al. The world is a horrible place; the human soul is born in sin and degradation; even "faith" is barely enough (with Christian belief) to save us.
Monday morning's are the worst -- seemingly sapping all hope before the week has even begun! We need to be saved -- but from what? Sin, life, being alone, being unconnected, love? Just what is it we need saving from? What is even possible, given this kind of beginning to our week?
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