Winston Churchill referred to his depressive episodes as that Black Dog that showed up and took residence in his life for awhile. It's a good description. Ever since my early twenties, the Dog has sometimes shown up at my house, too. He's been around lately, but the good news is that I know what to do with him. One of the best things about getting older is that while you may not have your stomach muscles anymore, you do have perspective.
I only tell you all this, because I want to mention what happened to me when I drove up 8th North in Orem today and looked at the familiar sight of the rocky mouth of Provo Canyon. My heart lifted. What a gift--to see sun glinting on stone.
What vistas make you happy?