On a melancholy day, Jupiter provides perspective -- and a cure for the blues

Some days, you just feel like you flop out of bed in the predawn darkness only to painfully crawl into the day.

It's "Hump Day." That mid-week marker of futility that reminds you that Life has settled into a routine of work that, thank God, pays the bills, but has long since ceased to challenge.

There was a time when in-depth reporting, well-crafted writing and meaning imbued your job -- but with the decline of the long-form narrative in newspapers in favor of the quick-hit, short digital briefs posted to the Web, those days are pretty much gone.

And, occasionally, on days like this one, you mourn the meaningful past and lament the shadow your journalistic career has become.

You reach out, freelancing editing and writing. For a while, that works. An up-and-coming media company gives you three years of steady work; it's fun and it pays well.

But success leads to larger staff. The need for freelancers disappears with more full-timers on board. Progress for them; back to the drawing board for you.

And on this morning, trudging through the dark and cold and snow to the train, you realize that THIS has become the "now." And, it sucks.

Yes, you have a job when many do not. Gratitude is expressed to the heavens. And yet . . . melancholy.

Suddenly, the mist puffing from his scarf-wrapped mouth, a fellow smiles and asks: "Do you know what that star is, just to the right of the moon?"

You look up. The moon is nearly full. Next to it is a sparkling, aqua-to-bluish light twinkling. It is cold, distance and . . . amazing.

"Actually, that's not a start at all," the man continues. He points to the light. "That's Jupiter!"

He continues, his enthusiasm infectious. Jupiter has 40 moons, and counting. Jupiter has two and a half times the mass of all the other planets of the solar system, combined. 

 

Jupiter is . . . huge. You could fit, roughly, 1,400 Earths within the gas giant's mass.

"You can tell I'm an astronomy buff," he finally says.

I look up and smile. The moon is a shimmering silver orb, Jupiter hanging off its shoulder like a cosmic broach.

No only are we on this planet not at the center of the Universe, but our lives are both infinitesimally small and uniquely precious and fragile, all at the same time.

Perspective.

Life.

Not so bad, after all.