Light My Fire

Who doesn't love The Game? The thrills, the chills, the preparation and planning...what? Oh, you mean the Olympic Games? Those are good, too.


The Olympics are fascinating. Beginning, once upon a time and in a place far away, the Grecian city of Olympia, 8th century before the common era --political states would get their Game on -- and all hostilities would cease while the athletes were at it. Oh, those were The Days! Skip to 1896 and the introduction of the modern Olympics. Games that, some would have it, show us the grandest and best that we are capable of -- the quest for perfection, precision, patience, endurance, and seeking expression of all that the body can experience. Yes. We are the stuff of stars. Our ancestors are carried forward in our deeds.


In the modern Games, in honor of the first Olympics, and in a nod to the power of story (Zeus got his fire heisted by Prometheus, who, as punishment, had to get his rocks off again and again -- hey, my blog, my telling), the Olympic Torch is lit in a ceremony in Athens months before the start of the Olympics -- by eleven women representing the vestal virgins (how hot is that!). Utilizing a parabolic mirror to ignite the light via the power of the sun, the torch is passed to the first of the torch bearers, who run it past the Temple of Hera (for ol' times' sake) before the flame is carried by a series of sprinters to the city providing hospitality for The Games. (My benediction: May that all of your lovers, paramours, and one/two/three nights stands always carry a torch for you -- as they should, damn it!)


From our study of mythology, we know that the deities were noble and good -- until they weren't. At times they were randy, riotous, opinionated, jealous, frisky -- and any other mood imaginable. This goes towards The Games themselves. They showcase the very best that we, humans, are capable of achieving.

That said: We is what we is. And the Games are our mirror. Women did not participate until the 1900 games. Even now, there are countries that have not sent a female athlete to compete. There have been acts of terrorism. Political boycotts. Allegations of doping (and not in a good way). Tragedies of war. Apartheid. Racism. Anti-semitism. Damn!

Even of late (say, this week), there have been idiots who have commented upon a goddesses' -- I meant athletes -- image in a bathing and asking : do you think she's fat? (Wonder if they asked her if she thought the writer was a fat-head?) There have been second-guessing of hairstyles, and a photo run by a mainstream media power that shall be unnamed -- cough (Yahoo.com) cough -- posted a photo of a cut-n-defined-to-six-pack perfection abdomen, with the tag that Olympians weren't like the rest of us. One could say that anyone who disagreed might be jealous...but it would be hard to know of whom the feeling was aimed -- because the shot cut off the subject's head (not in the post-modern, hip, be-aware-of-the-frame mode, but at the friggin neck!). We are not jealous. (Poor, headless darling!). We are mildly amused and slightly incensed on behalf of all humanity/deities and their myriad of body types and plethora of talents.


The Games are life/and life is the Games. We seek to give our best performance. We engineer cities, explore the heavens, perform rocket surgery and brain science...er, is it the other way around?....whatever! The point is, we are brilliant and fierce and gentle and good -- and at times bad as we wanna be, and a little more too! We are standard bearers and torch lighters, all.