Words by Tharushi Bowatte (she/her)

Our eco-critical superstar is back once again to wow us with her words. In this week’s Environment issue, Tharushi Bowatte from Rock Dog Podcast writes about her experience seeing the comet in Kaitoke a few weeks back.

I was in Kaitoke when the comet dropped, 7 July 2022.

We had just eaten pretzels on the stony riverside. A lesbian duck couple were loitering in the emerald water, nibbling tiny things off the bank. What did we talk about before the comet dropped? Love Island, how nice it is to be in the bush (it’s very nice), and that there’s no delineation between soil science and geology. Suddenly, there was a streak of orange as quick as a blink. A minute later, a geological rumbling. The kind of sound you feel rather than hear. The Kaitoke Fireball. I think that’d be a great name for a racehorse. Fastest in the world. Faster than sound.

The last time a comet was seen in Aotearoa was on 7 July 1999. The coincidence moves me. I feel very taken by serendipitous events. When seemingly disparate phenoms lock in, joined by a connecting strand. The same day 23 years apart: a comet. Coincidences are the juice of life. So ubiquitous. So necessary. Scientists have ascribed patterns to many environmental coincidences. Things mutate. They evolve. And predictably end up as their elite physiology or equilibrium. But don’t forget that the first chrysalis was a coincidence. Likewise when Gondwana unravelled into continental fragments. Or that water ever ended up on Earth. In the Hadean eon, billions of stars accidentally exploded. The solar system happened to form. Essential elements were randomly generated. Earth was blushing because there was no life, no rocks, and no water. Just lava. In a spontaneous move, Earth invented rocks. And then…a meteor fell. It probably carried the ingredients for water. I’d like to think that the watercarrying meteor dropped on some 7 July.

Sometimes I think climate change anxiety takes over a bit too much. We get caught up in words like “degraded resource” or “environmental management.” Start talking about how Tupperware will save the earth. Of course, climate change discussions are crucial. But they don’t acknowledge the imposed disjunction between humans and the environment. We pretend we are outside of the ecological sphere. That we can control it or are philosophically above it. Sometimes I think we are mourning too soon. The web of life is rich with surprises. Delightful and exciting. If we reendow the environment with its inherent mystique, we may situate ourselves better to take on climate change. Arrogance and disillusionment have brought us into this mess. Consider me an advocate for deference. I know which racehorse I’ll be bidding on.