Reason # 49 SUNDAY BLUES - yes even that can be celebrated!

 


There’s a particular kind of stillness that settles on a Sunday evening. The world slows, the noise softens, and a hush falls over things—as if life itself is pausing to breathe. For a melancholic soul, this time carries a familiar spell. It’s not sadness, exactly. It’s more like a tender ache, a quiet awareness that everything is passing, that the golden light is fading, that time never quite stands still.

Sunday evenings remind me of old songs, of books half read, of the scent of something just out of reach, but with a definite memory attach to it. They hold within them a strange mix of longing and gratitude—a reflection on what was, what might have been, and what still could be. It’s a time when the soul leans inward, listening. Remembering. Reflecting. Hoping.

Melancholy, I’ve come to believe, is not a flaw but a gift. It’s the part of us that feels deeply, that sees the poetry in the ordinary, and that holds space for what is unresolved. I don't think Sunday evenings ask us to fix anything—they simply invite us to feel. To notice the way the light lingers as the sun sets here between the oak trees, how the mountain tops turns pink. To reflect on the passing of another week. To say thanks for moments we didn’t deserve, and mercy we didn’t earn. To stretch ourselves out to more blessings on its way. To be the change we want to see in the world. To try again. And mostly to relax and JUST live - all will be OK!


And then, gently, the evening folds into night. And we, melancholics, carry on—slightly lighter, for allowing ourselves to feel, to look in the eye, to fear less and feel more ready and alive..




The Germans have a wonderful word for this longing—Sehnsucht. It speaks of a deep yearning, not for something specific, but for something beyond, something just out of reach. It’s the ache for a home we’ve never quite found, or perhaps once knew in another time or place of the soul. On Sunday evenings, Sehnsucht stirs quietly in me. It's not despair, but a beautiful kind of sorrow, laced with hope. It reminds me that I was made for more than this world can offer—and that even in the quiet ache, there is a strange joy, because the longing itself is proof of something eternal whispering within. And my Spirit people always remain close in such moments


06 July 2025


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