What is this word, melancholy? Because I sort of like it. I think it teaches lessons of life. I think it is proving ground for the heart and prevents complacency. Here is my reasoning... And as my mother is steadfast in saying..."this will eventually get to my point"...Winter brings its own shade of this word, this "state of being." Maybe it's because we are more often "trapped" inside with our thoughts and feelings, left to contemplate about our lives, our habits, sometimes, our everything. I appreciate the recourse of the Thesaurus' explanation of similar aspects of this word. Because I often find myself meditating on my place in life. I also enjoy ruminating over what I've done, but rarely on what I have yet to do. It's such a common descriptor of so many artists- that they can even assume a "period" of such earnestness. 
I enjoy this word, because it is at its peak that I am left to deal with myself, by myself. And sometimes, somber can be inspirational. Sometimes, always being rational, isn't rational anymore.
If there is no severity in my effort to live, then what is it's purpose? It's often at the bleakest times, within the depth of doom and gloom that I realize the purpose is to still believe when all hope is lost; to persevere when everyone else has given up; to keep searching when all light has gone dim. What is my meaning of life? To live - and to live with purpose. This is some of what melancholy has taught me, and not without trial and tribulation, I assure you. But it is because of those "character building experiences" that I am reminded that life is not to be lived in all seriousness. That living should also embody frivolity and mischief and playfulness. So I enjoy this word, melancholy, because it teaches best its most opposite of meanings- pure bliss, priceless joy. For if we do not know sadness and its countless intricacies, how do we ever understand happiness?
Make no mistake, I solemnly appreciate the importance of being earnest. Because in that most sedate comprehension, I have realized my earnestness is only best realized when it is directed toward its antonym.
