Some Monday’s are Monday (-ier) than others. For me that means just a deeper state of melancholy. It’s a point where I‘d rather just disengage and let my headphones and random thoughts lead the way through to a deeper place. With a laptop literally in my lap, Hotel California in my ears, and a far off look on my face, I could sit here in this cushy chair by the window for hours. People come and go, singles, groups, mostly on a mission. I wonder if it’s Monday for them?
I’m realizing that most of the Monday-ness comes not from the day but from the days previous or possibly the days to come. What I think I mean is that this Monday melancholy usually comes from the strain of the days before or from the uneasy anticipation of what’s still to come. For me, I think that it is a defense mechanism. It is my body and soul recalibrating either from something or for something. Being naturally the introvert, it usually involves an adjustment from or in anticipation of people vacuum. People vacuum, I believe, is the process by which people suck the life out of introverts like myself. I don’t think that extroverts have any idea that this is a real phenomenon. In fact, I’d be willing to guess that this is where some of their excess energy comes from.
To be fair, most of this exchange of energy, at least in my life, happens willingly. Being in the public position that God has oddly placed me, it is unavoidable. Like I said, I’m not sure that it really happens much to extroverts in my role. They seem to be energized by those they are called to lead. Sometimes I despise them. I mean really, I have to expend twice as much energy to accomplish similar tasks and I don’t even get to have the body to show for it. I’m hung over and I wasn’t even invited to the party. At the end of the day, they’re still smiling, Joel Osteen like, and I just want to slap them.
But God has granted Monday’s to souls like mine so that we can realign ourselves with the planets and plow into one more week. It is totally the reason why my weekly sojourn down to the beach, to drink coffee, type aimlessly, and daydream, happens on a Monday morning. In my tenure as pastoral artist here in the Northwest, I may have the opportunity to communicate great insights from the Book of Books. I may be able to bring comfort to broken lives. I may be able to lead through great changes. Whatever the week brings or has brought, none of it happens without a Monday, and for that I’m grateful.