Throwing things
A lot of the time, I find that the best way to describe my feelings is to describe what I feel like doing. I may feel like kicking things, or thumping my fist on a desk. They're the sorts of things I used to resist doing, but I've recently become convinced that there are many settings where such acts are perfectly appropriate, and often even fruitful. My therapist, for example, approves of me thumping the arm rest of the comfy chair whenever I feel like it. It may make me feel silly, but it also helps me get in touch with whatever thought or memory I'm trying to form.
Another thing I feel like doing sometimes is throwing things. I felt that one late yesterday afternoon, when I was with hopeforyou. I the feeling wasn't because of her, and it wasn't even because we'd spent the entire afternoon visiting wrecking yards without finding a single part that we were looking for, but I didn't know what was making me feel that way.
We had given up on our parts search and gone for a drive instead, following Ca-84 from Newark over the Dumbarton Bridge and Santa Cruz Mountains. We had just arrived on a beach adjacent to the end of Ca-84, and was full of things just waiting to be thrown, and plenty of space for them to land safely. It looked like I was about to find out why I felt that way.
My favourite fling toys were were big logs that had drifted in from the ocean, and rocks that had fallen from cliffs. Both were surprisingly lightweight; the rocks were actually big chunks of shale-this is the California coast!-and the ocean had weathered most of the density out of the logs. And while there were scores of people camped near the carpark and lagoon, the only people who ventured as far south as us was a hippy couple, and they'd passed far enough for their pacifistic beliefs not to be disturbed by the craters I was making in the sand with rocks. (Well, yeah, okay, so hopeforyou looked like hippies as well. It's a label I'm perfectly happy with.)
The thing that ticked me turned out to be internal conflict over the late-afternoon coastal fog. On the one hand, hopeforyou and I had hoped to find warmth and sun on the beach, even though this rarely happens on the Central Coast during the summer. We could still see blue sky near the horizon inland, where the weather was perfect, but we wanted a beach setting... a sunny beach. On the other hand, the fog on the beach, the seagulls in the mist, the brown cliff faces disappearing into the eery grey vapor... they were truly beautiful! And very familiar... this is what most of the last ten summers have been like for me, at least here in the northern hemisphere. It might not be quite what I want, but I still like it, and these days it's home, just as much as the shade of a gum tree with a kookaburra in it, by a beach on a hot summer's day. I don't have to choose-both can be home. Both homes have pros and cons, and neither home will be offended by me longing for the other. And somehow, I still hope to have plenty of both.
hopeforyou felt like throwing things too, for her own reasons. We actually made a project out of it; together, we were able to throw logs even further! But eventually we found it was more fun to put the logs on top of each other, and make seesaws out of them. A non-hippy couple who had come close enough to see us were amused. All this activity got a lot of feelings out into the open, and we were able to talk about them.
For the first time in ages, we talked about the future. For a long time it seemed that there were always more pressing things about the present to discuss, but we were able to give that a rest this time. We dared to talk about dreams again, something we've been nervous about doing since the housedreamland saga. To my relief, I found out that our dreams are still compatible, and that we're willing and able to help each other realise them. I think that's one of the most important things in a primary relationship. Anyhow, it was one of the best discussions we've had in ages. We both felt really good about it.
So throwing things when I feel like throwing them is as helpful as thumping my fist when I feel like doing that, i.e. it's good as long as I'm not throwing something somebody particularly cares about. But when following through on such urges could annoy no more than a flock of able-bodied seagulls, it makes sense to do so. I wonder what I'll find when I figure out a way to harmlessly kick things...