Throwing Rocks

Throwing rocks is so cathartic.
 Actually the whole process of selecting just the right rock from the thousands on the shore brings about a  great  release.  Release from the tensions created in the day, the stress of another anxiety, the sadness that can wrap its self around me like a shawl.  Yes, that first touch sparks off a sensation of freeing me from my withdrawals and catch me living right in the moment.

 Once you've found the rock, then the lifting back and releasing it into the air can bring joy.  The joyful beginnings of a smile, that tickle of childhood prickling and spreading through the body.

 Finally watching it disappear into the blueness, the ringed delight of a good thwack sound against the water, brings a peculiar satisfied sensation.  The sound echoes back, a calling from a yesterday voice, "Oh yes I have done this before!"

We seek out just the right smooth rock to hold in our palms.  We turn them over and discover shape, texture, color, and weight.  This one makes big thwacks, this one slips under with almost no noise at all. 

Maybe it all brings me closer to living like the children.  For it is indeed living in the moment,  this throwing rocks by the water's edge.  I am one of the kids, in touch with the actual day, not worrying or filled with useless stress.  

   And we are there, watching boats cut into the water, making ripples come almost to our toes, almost.     And there is laughter, thought, and moments shared in peace. 

So I take the kids back to Button Bay in search of the ever elusive Button Rocks and some good thwacking of rocks into the lake.

  Nora comes with us and is delighted when we find six of them or so.  I slip them all into her bag so she can make a necklace like I used to with those special rocks. 

Michael decides that all the rocks are beautiful and piles one after the other into his small bag.  Small bags are essential when there is so much to choose from and it is impossible to take all. 

We spend the moments throwing, exploring, discovering, and laughing.




























 I try to scoop up these moments like the inevitable sand that will filter into my car, and the rocks, and driftwood that we pack.

 I want the treasured time to sustain me when sadness can so easily cling to my days.


 I want these moments to be ever hard to wipe away like the traces of our days here left in the car.

 I want to take them out and remember the peace we found.


  I want to remember how throwing rocks can be just so cathartic.