Changing tracks

Yesterday I took a train to town, and allowed myself to be fully immersed in, and alert to, the total experience. I closed my eyes, could feel myself being lulled by the rocking movement of the train, and I understood why so many people actually dozed off en route to their destinations. Sometimes it's quite funny watching someone nod off, then jerk awake as the train jolts them upright. I've even seen a few people resting their heads on the shoulders of complete strangers. Very funny watching how the shoulder-owner reacts. Haha! Years of enforced politeness come to the fore, as they bravely bear the getting-heavier-by-the-minute head of their unknown travelling companion, grinning sheepishly when they realise you're watching them.

I've been fascinated by group dynamics for a long time, and I love observing people who find themselves having to share a space, especially with strangers. In South Africa, it's even more fascinating, as years of enforced separation - separate living areas, separate amenities, including parts of the station and carriages on trains - play themselves out in the sometimes-odd ways we have of dealing with people from different ethnic groups. Sometimes funny, mostly sad.

But a feeling I like experiencing in a train, is that sensation when the train changes tracks. You get knocked about a little, you find yourself jumping involuntarily in your seat, you feel slightly insecure, and there's definitely a trace of pending doom - what if the train were to be derailed in the process? - that passes as soon as you've noticed it. The noise that accompanies it is not a smooth sound; it is loud, arhythmical and jarring - the sound of chaos. And then it ends, and the quiet, lulling movement and sound of the train return. You unconsciously breathe a sigh of relief, unaware of the seeds of trepidation that threatened to germinate, only seconds before. You sigh, sometimes audibly, and you continue what you'd been doing before, except now you're travelling along different tracks, a more efficient route to your destination having been selected. The transition is over, nothing more than just a routine, everyday occurrence for trains.

I'm on a journey. I'm changing tracks. I think I need to read this blog post whenever I fear that the cacophony of changing tracks is significant enough to silence the music in any way other than just momentarily.