Monday evening, I left my office, headed down the cinderblock lined back stairs and out into the back parking lot. I climbed in the old black car and prepared for my commute home. When I turned on the car, the radio sprung to life with the latest from NPR. It was Martin Luther King, Jr. day, and all the stories were about his life and legacy. As a clip of church music played from Ebenezer Baptist Church in Atlanta, a moment of sadness swept over me.

Some of it surely was feeling the grief of the death of a great man. It was probably compounded by my thoughts following a tweet chat during the day, about how much remains to be done. All of it came together into something perhaps best captured in the end of Lord of the Flies when "Ralph wept for the end of innocence, the darkness of man's heart, and the fall through the air of the true, wise friend called Piggy".

Yet it seemed like something more, something bigger, "as if millions of voices suddenly cried out in terror and were suddenly silenced".

When I went through a particularly rough period in my life, I experienced a deep depression and read a bit about it. William Styron's book, "Darkness Visible" always seemed to be one of the best descriptions I've read of depression. It wasn't quite like a Darkness Visible. It wasn't as deep, and it was fleeting.

I pulled out of the parking lot, and headed down the side street. The moment was over and I was on my commute home.

When I got home, I had a bad headache, and went to bed early.

This morning, a slushy snow covered the ground. Was the moment of darkness, or the headache just a reaction to the coming storm? Or, had something else happened, perhaps as far away as Alderaan.

At lunch time, I took a walk. As headed down Main Street, an unexpectedly large number of people greeted me. Was this just a bipolar swing in the other direction? Or, had I passed through something, sort of like leveling up in empathy? Had the moment of darkness been crossing some threshold in my personal rendition of the monomyth?

As I headed back to the office, I passed a sign on the side of a church, "God is speaking still," Was there some spiritual element to the moment of darkness?

I pause before I post this on my blog. What sort of reaction will this elicit? Will a psychologist seem some sort of warning sign in this? An insurance company some reason to decline coverage? Will my friends who read marketing blogs understand this? How will it relate to their online world views of trying to monetize blog posts?

And for me, what does this mean for my blog, my writing, and anything else this might portend?