He rose the morrow morn

 He went, like one that hath been stunn'd 

And is of sense forlorn:

A sadder and a wiser man

He rose the morrow morn.

- Samuel Taylor Coleridge

To be reflective and meditative is to give yourself the space to grow into wisdom. The air of melancholy may accompany such depths, but is not always linked to be a replica of the word, depressed, but it can hold a sadness that lingers because of story, life, the world. We can feel the sadness in the state of our planet, our divisive culture, the negative views/actions of others, and the changes it all may cause which will shape our future.

We can grow in wisdom and feel melancholic about it as it can be a sobering experience. We can dwell there to process through it all. In my mind, I always need to let my thoughts walk around. It is not that we look for a state of melancholy, but it comes to find us, and when it does, it can be a catalyst for development and creativity. Many of the best poets and writers wrote when feeling downcast. I myself have done the same, and if I have been able to embrace what it is, that part of the experience of being human, my words come flowing from a deeper, more meaningful place.

Upon hearing a tale of lesson and loss, like the ancient mariner in the quote above (from that marvelous poem "The Rime of the Ancient Mariner"), one can walk away grateful, wiser, and melancholy all the same, feeling like one just dipped into a tale much bigger than themselves.

When we see things are much more complex than just our own struggles, a sense of thoughtful melancholy can sweep over the atmosphere, not because one is sad, but because the state out of control of the big things and the little influence we have. But we can choose to do good in even the small ways we have at our fingertips.

If you are interested in this topic, I will be exploring it more. I have been diving into the new exhibit (and hope to visit in person) at the Bodleian Library on The Anatomy of Melancholy, the 400 year old book written by Robert Burton.