Tänane päev on olnud üsna masendav. Tähendab, tunne on mul selline masendunud, objektiivselt võttes pole päeval eriti vigagi: hommikune leeritund ning sellele järgnenud ristimistalitus olid väga toredad, samuti õhtune kadripäeva teenistus, mille Ennu ja organistide äraolekul üksi pidasin (ise lugesin, ise laulsin, ise jutlustasin ja ise ütlesin ka liturgia, kuna kogudus oli seekord ebatavaline – niisugune seltskond, keda harilikult meie kirikus ei kohta). Pisut jõudsin edasi ka Lewise “Suure lahutuse” tõlkega, lugesin Jared Diamondi “Püssid pisikud ja teras” eestikeelse tõlke lugemisel ning olen pisut muudki asjalikku teinud, ent märkimisväärselt palju aega on kulunud lihtsalt kohvi joomisele ja kurva tuju muusika kuulamisele: Virve Osila luuletused Urmas Alendri esituses, Deep Purple “Wasted Sunset”, Bob Dylani “Death Is Not The End”, Harpo “San Francisco Nights”, Billy Joeli “Say Good Bye To Hollywood” ja “Captain Jack”, Harpo (Jan Svenssoni) “Jessica” jne. Muide, Amarok ja Banshee jmt muusikamängijad pakuvad last.fm süsteemi vahendusel võimalust oma muusikaeelistusi teistele tutvustada. Minu viimatised kuulamised on nt järgmised:

:)

Häda on niisuguse tuju puhul selles, et palju aega läheb raisku, mida võiks asjalikumalt kasutada. Need mõned aastad, mis meil siin ilmas elada on antud, väärivad ehk enamat, kui niisama mossitamist. Teisalt jällegi räägivad arstid, et regulaarne logelemine on tervislik. Teine lohutus on see, et ma pole ainus: kuulus jutlustaja Charles H Spurgeon on oma kogemustest (mida ta, muide, on kord iseloomustanud – minu mälule toetudes – kui meeleheite lossi all olevaid sügavaid koopaid) lähtudes jutlustanud:

I know that wise brethren say, ‘You should not give way to feelings of depression.’ … If those who blame quite so furiously could once know what depression is, they would think it cruel to scatter blame where comfort is needed. There are experiences of the children of God which are full of spiritual darkness; and I am almost persuaded that those of God’s servants who have been most highly favoured have, nevertheless, suffered more times of darkness than others.

The covenant is never known to Abraham so well as when a horror of great darkness comes over him, and then he sees the shining lamp moving between the pieces of the sacrifice. A greater than Abraham was early led of the Spirit into the wilderness, and yet again ere He closed His life He was sorrowful and very heavy in the garden.

No sin is necessarily connected with sorrow of heart, for Jesus Christ our Lord once said, ‘My soul is exceeding sorrowful, even unto death.’ There was no sin in Him, and consequently none in His deep depression.

I would, therefore, try to cheer any brother who is sad, for his sadness is not necessarily blameworthy. If his downcast spirit arises from unbelief, let him flog himself, and cry to God to be delivered from it; but if the soul is sighing–‘though he slay me, yet will I trust in him’–its being slain is not a fault.

The way of sorrow is not the way of sin, but a hallowed road sanctified by the prayers of myriads of pilgrims now with God–pilgrims who, passing through the valley of Baca [lit: of weeping], made it a well, the rain also filled the pools: of such it is written: ‘They go from strength to strength, every one of them in Zion appeareth before God.’ (Metropolitan Tabernacle Pulpit, 1881, vol. 27, p. 1595)