Name: What Is the Sunday Evening Feeling?
Uploaded: 2017-12-18T04:26:31.000Z
Duration: 4 min 59 s
Description: Thousands of YouTube videos with English-Chinese subtitles! Now you can learn to understand native speakers, expand your vocabulary, and improve your pronunciation...

It descends, normally, between around 5pm
and 7.30pm and can be at its height at six,

Adverbs of manner

especially when the weather is turning and
the last of the daylight has burnished the

Basic passive voice

sky a shade of crimson pink. The Sunday evening
feeling is ordinarily associated with work,

and the idea of going back to an office after
a pleasant break. But this doesn’t quite

cover the complexity of what is going on:
it isn’t just that we have some sort of

work to do that is dragging down our mood,
but that we are going back to the wrong sort

of work even while we are in dire ignorance
of what the right sort of work might actually

be. We all have inside us what we might term
a true working self, a set of inclinations

and capacities that long to exert themselves
on the raw material of reality. We want to

turn the vital bits of who we are into jobs,
and ensure that we can see ourselves reflected

in the services and products we are involved
in turning out. This is what we understand

by the right job, and the need for one is
as fundamental and as strong in us as the

need to love. We can be as broken by a failure
to find our professional destiny as to identify

an intimate companion. Feeling that we are
in the wrong job, and that our true vocation

lies undiscovered, is not a minor species
of discomfort: it will be the central existential

crisis of our lives. We normally manage to
keep the insistent calls of the true working

self at bay during the week. We are too busy
and too driven by an immediate need for money.

But it reliably comes to trouble us on Sunday
evenings. Like a ghost suspended between two

worlds, it has not been allowed to live or
to die, and so bangs at the door of consciousness,

requiring resolution. We are sad, or panicked,
because a part of us recognises that time

is running out and that we are not presently
doing what we should with what remains of

our lives. The anguish of Sunday evening is
our conscience trying to stir us inarticulately

into making more of ourselves. In this sense,
Sunday evenings have a history. Until recently,

the last hundred years or so, there was – for
most of us – no question of our true working

selves ever finding expression in our labours.
We worked to survive and would be grateful

for a minimal income. But such reduced expectations
no longer hold. We know – because there

are enough visible examples of people who
have done so – that we could harness our

talents to the engines of commerce. We know
that we don’t have to be unhappy in this

area, which adds a feeling of particular shame
if we still are. We should not be so hard

on ourselves. We don’t yet have the mechanisms
in place to reunite ourselves with our purpose.

It is in the nature of our working selves
to be both clear in their dissatisfactions

and yet maddeningly oblique about their real
direction. We can both be utterly sure that

we are not doing what we should while wholly
at sea about our genuine purpose. The answer

is patience, structure and steadfast intent.
We need some of the discipline of the detective,

or an archaeologist reassembling the pieces
of a smashed jar. We should not dismiss our

angst blithely as ‘the Sunday blues’,
to be assuaged with a drink and a film. We

should see it as belonging to a confused yet
utterly central search for a real self that

has been buried under a need to please others
and take care of short-term needs for status

and money. In other words, we should not keep
our Sunday evening feelings simply for Sunday

evenings. We should place these feelings at
the center of our lives and let them be the

catalysts for a sustained exploration that
continues throughout the week, over months

and probably years, and that generates conversations
with ourselves, with friends, mentors and

with professionals. Something very serious
is going on when sadness and anxiety descend

for a few hours on Sunday evenings. We aren’t
a bit bothered to have to end two days of

leisure; we’re being driven usefully to
distraction by a reminder to try to discover

who we really are – and to do justice to
our true talents – before it is too late.It

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