Blaming and cursing

I spent an afternoon on the beach in Ofunato getting drenched by the rain.  The ocean in front of me is the same ocean that blew giant waves onto the shores all along over 200 miles of coastline.  I'm angry at it.  I know the ocean doesn't care.  I know being angry at an ocean isn't a reasonable response but it's also very real.  I need to blame something.  I need to project my anger at some thing and right now, that thing is the ocean in front of me.

When the waves recede, it washes over small, black stones.  These waves, the ones that never stop, make the stones sound as if they're clapping.  This, too, makes me angry.  What are you applauding?  What did you do that deserves applause?  You, ocean, of all things don't deserve praise right now.

I see a large wooden door floating in the waves.  I look at it and assume it wants to come onto shore and rest.  The waves taunt it, pushing it forward towards the shore and then pull it back out.  The ocean is cruel this way.  Let the door be.  Let the door settle on these black pebbles that make this horrid clapping sound and let it rest on solid ground away from and out of the water.  No.  The ocean teases the door and the entire time I'm on the beach, it moves back and forth, to and from land.

The tsunami wall that was supposed to keep giant waves from crashing onto land did nothing.  One portion of the wall, a 8-inch thick concrete section, 6-feet by 6-feet rests near the edge of the water.  The waves moved it here and left it for us to see.  "See what I can do?"  Yes, I do.  You did this.  You want credit?  I'll give it to you in the form of blame.  This is your fault.

I see another larger section of the wall in the water, laying on the sand and rocks.  This one is larger, maybe 10-feet by 10-feet.  The waves tore this off the wall and brought it here for us to know just how much power it has.  I get it, ocean.  You're powerful.  You're so powerful you washed away walls, homes, bulldozers, people, trucks, boats and toys.  You feel no guilt because you can't.  That's simply not good enough.

I pick up several of the larger black stones at my feet and throw them into the water as far as I can.  They plop.  I feel ridiculous.  I didn't hurt the ocean.  I didn't cause it pain.  I want to, of course, but I can't.  It doesn't work that way.

I can't stop crying.  This is good, I know, but I feel stupid for being angry at something that on postcards is so beautiful.  I tell myself the water here is not blue, green or turquoise.  It's not pretty.  I don't need to feel stupid for crying.  My emotions, the ones I pushed down so deep for so long come out and my make up is ruined.

I curse at the ocean.  I call it names.  I tell it, "you did this" knowing it feels nothing.  I turn my back to it, making sure I intentionally snub it and walk away from it saying "I'll never feel the same way about you again."  It doesn't hear me, I know but I am blown away by how much better I feel.

This is what I needed.  This is the closure I came here for.  I feel different.  I'm soaked, having stood out in the rain for so long but am not bothered by how wet my shoes are or how messy I look.  I feel cleansed.  Between blaming something that can't accept fault, cursing at something that can't hear me and feeling a different sort of water wash me clean, I feel like myself again for the first time in a very, very long time.

I'm back.  The old me is back.  Not only that, this time I'm better than before.