Speed, Spirit, and the Circle of Life

Taoist Reflections from My Indianapolis Days

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Diamond Michael Scott, aka The Chocolate Taoist

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Back in the late ’80s and early ’90s, I lived in Indianapolis—the Circle City, as it was affectionately called. Not just for the traffic loop that hemmed the heart of downtown, but for the spiritual geometry that seemed to define the city’s rhythm. Circles of basketball courts. Circles of racetracks. Circles of roundabouts. Circles of daily life.

Each morning, I’d slide behind the wheel and head east—down 465 to 74—for a one-hour commute to Shelbyville, Indiana, a sleepy little town with a modest 89-bed hospital that became my professional home. I was part of a healthcare leadership team, a young man learning how to navigate the world of executive meetings, strategic plans, and hospital politics—all before I could legally rent a car.

What made that job worthwhile, outside the sacred work of patient care, was what waited for me back in Indy. The city pulsed with a particular energy, one that lived and breathed basketball.

This wasn’t just Hoosier country—it was a basketball haven. High school gymnasiums swelled with fans like megachurches at revival. College hoops stories echoed through alleyways and sports bars. And pro basketball was just starting to find its place in the city’s bloodstream with the rise of a young Reggie Miller back in the day.

At night, I found sanctuary at the TGI Fridays at Keystone at the Crossing. That was my jam. The barstools were always warm, the staff knew my drink, and there was a wild, flirtatious energy to the place. It was equal parts singles scene and therapy session, a place where deals were made, hearts were broken, and life happened between sips of Long Island iced teas and baskets of loaded potato skins. For a twenty-something trying to find his place in the world, it was the perfect in-between zone: not quite the boardroom, not quite the bedroom. Just…life.

But nothing—and I mean nothing—set Indy apart quite like the Indianapolis 500.

Every year, on the Sunday before Memorial Day, the city transformed into a cathedral of speed. 33 revved-up cars at the starting line. Over 300,000 people descend on the Indianapolis Motor Speedway, making it the largest single-day sporting event on the planet. I attended my first—and only—race in 1990, and to this day, it still clings to my spirit like engine grease.

What I remember most vividly? The late Jim Nabors stepping up to that mic and singing “Back Home Again in Indiana.” That moment cracked something open in me. The irony was rich—here I was, not from Indiana, commuting every day away from it, yet somehow feeling deeply home in that moment. It wasn’t just a song. It was a soul compass.

PS: Ya gotta be a Hoosier in full or in part to understand this. Otherwise it’s just a syrupy song that will hold no meaning to you.

And the race itself?

It wasn’t just loud. It was mythic.

It was Taoist. It was I Ching in action. It was life, played out at 220 mph.

Here are five truths I took from that day—and from the race itself—that still guide me today:

Crashes Happen. Accept Them.

Like life, the Indy 500 is full of sudden wrecks. Not every car finishes the race. Some spin out. Some flame up. But no one enters the race expecting a perfect ride. The Tao Te Ching reminds us, “New beginnings are often disguised as painful endings.” You get back in the car—maybe a fixed one, maybe next race season with a brand new car — and you keep going.

It’s a Circle, Not a Line.

The track is a loop. You’re not headed toward some final destination. You’re circling, refining, improving, surviving. The I Ching teaches us that life is not linear—it’s cyclical. Hexagram 24, Return, reminds us: what goes out must come back. In a world that worships “up and to the right,” the Indy 500 whispers a deeper truth: you’re always returning to yourself.

False Starts Still Teach You Something.

Some cars jump the gun. Some engines stall at the green flag. False starts are embarrassing—but they’re also instructive. They teach you timing, humility, and restraint. In Taoist wisdom, there’s power in wu wei—non-forcing, right timing. The race doesn’t begin until the moment is ripe. Neither should you.

Diversity Drives Innovation.

Even back in 1990, the field was international. Drivers from Brazil, the UK, Japan, and beyond. Each brought their own flair, strategy, and edge. Life, like the Indy 500, is richer when multiple cultures, tactics, and worldviews collide. The Tao doesn’t choose one path. It flows through all.

The Real Victory Is Finishing The Race

Sure, winning is sweet. But just finishing 500 miles of pressure, heat, and velocity is a feat in itself. Life is less about first place and more about persistence. About keeping your engine going even when you’re running on fumes. In the I Ching’s Hexagram 29, The Abysmal, we learn that navigating danger requires steady discipline. The road is dangerous—but stay centered, and you will find your way through.

As I look back now, I realize my time in Indianapolis was a warm-up lap for everything that came later. That sleepy hospital in Shelbyville? It taught me how to show up when nobody’s watching. Those nights at TGI Fridays? They taught me how to read people. And that one sun-blasted day at the Speedway? That taught me everything I ever needed to know about motion, madness, and meaning.

In the end, life isn’t a highway. It’s a racetrack.

Fast. Loud. Circular. And absolutely worth the ride.

UPDATE: May 25th at 8:29 ET. Alex Palou is your 2025 Indianapolis 500 winner. He is the first Spaniard to ever win the race. 🇪🇸