"Blessed are the cracks, for they shall let the light in."
I have carried that quote around in one of my notebooks for years. It is a good place to start today. This morning, despite the heavy, gray overcast, there were cracks in the cloud cover which were luminous with the early light. I stood for several long moments at the back deck door, just looking.
Last night was our monthly legal clinic. Clinic night is always a reminder that despite my tiredness, physical or otherwise, so many others out there are carrying far heavier burdens. They come to the clinic looking for advice, looking for hope, looking for a place in which to lay down those bundles of worry and dead ends, even if only for an hour. We give them coffee and comfort, cookies and counsel, before sending them back out into the world again.
Working at the clinic does not "cure" my depression, but it softens it by helping me gain a fresh perspective. It cracks open the soft gray in which I am wrapped and lets the light enter.
Thoreau ends Walden on a Transcendentalist note: The sun is but a morning star. As I type these words, it is early afternoon and the room has suddenly brightened. I look up from the screen. The sky is blue and clear; the morning star is shining bright.