Tonight I am in small town Iowa, America, visiting my brother and watching dirt track car racing. The track resembles the organized chaos of an African market; with people and cars crossing paths and flying in every direction.
It's lit by a handful of light towers and I wonder if it is strange to race around the track without headlights. I think it must be like little boats bobbing their way to their destination when a lighthouse is their only light source.
Growing up by the ocean its rhythm was integral to my own and these days I feel disorientated in myself when I have been away from it for a while. Despite being hours from the ocean, sitting in the stands tonight I feel closer to it than I have in months. Mostly it's the weering roar of the cars as they lap the track kicking up the dust. The sensation of their rumble running in and through my body is undeniable and joyful. Being out in the elements, even though the focus is on something far from natural, I feel connected to the the world around me, with the canopy of the open sky and the dust and burning red sun set.
I stepped out of the stands and down to the fence line- as close as I could get to the action. It takes me back to the ruggered Victorian coastline. Standing out on a rock that boldly juts out into Bass Straight, with my palms to the sky as though I am flying, the waves crash all around me drenching me with their spray. As they envelop me I am minuscule and insignificant and it takes all my settling in myself to not be tossed around and swept away by their rhythm and power.
At the track I instruct myself not to think about what this is doing to the environment, my to-do list and being cold. As a result I surprisingly find peace in watching cars race around a dirt track and learning about this new world, with its own unique culture that I have stumbled into. It's beautiful.
It's lit by a handful of light towers and I wonder if it is strange to race around the track without headlights. I think it must be like little boats bobbing their way to their destination when a lighthouse is their only light source.
Growing up by the ocean its rhythm was integral to my own and these days I feel disorientated in myself when I have been away from it for a while. Despite being hours from the ocean, sitting in the stands tonight I feel closer to it than I have in months. Mostly it's the weering roar of the cars as they lap the track kicking up the dust. The sensation of their rumble running in and through my body is undeniable and joyful. Being out in the elements, even though the focus is on something far from natural, I feel connected to the the world around me, with the canopy of the open sky and the dust and burning red sun set.
I stepped out of the stands and down to the fence line- as close as I could get to the action. It takes me back to the ruggered Victorian coastline. Standing out on a rock that boldly juts out into Bass Straight, with my palms to the sky as though I am flying, the waves crash all around me drenching me with their spray. As they envelop me I am minuscule and insignificant and it takes all my settling in myself to not be tossed around and swept away by their rhythm and power.
At the track I instruct myself not to think about what this is doing to the environment, my to-do list and being cold. As a result I surprisingly find peace in watching cars race around a dirt track and learning about this new world, with its own unique culture that I have stumbled into. It's beautiful.
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