Olympic mania

I told myself I wouldn't, I couldn't spare the time this year away from writing, no, not turning on the Olympics ... and OMG, did you see the Russian skating pair? The American woman who got the Gold for freestyle skiing? Hear about the young man who died practicing for the luge?

I can't stay away from this stuff, not after so many years of studying ballet, trudging to class mornings and nights when I didn't feel like it, performing when I didn't feel like it (I never felt like it!), and enjoying hip, knee, ankle, and toe joints that ache all the time thanks to a LOT of injuries. All in the name of perfection, which of course never arrived for me. I wasn't even on the same coast as perfection, let alone the same city, or the right body.

So watching these young athletes is thrilling because I know what they have to put into it just to get to the Olympics, let alone excel there. To hear the commentators analyzing the tiniest of mistakes, and themselves being thrilled out of their seats when perfection really does show up, is a lesson in what art and athletics require: dedication, love, and passionate, unreasoning addiction to a form.

Let us be Olympians of poetry and writing, or at least watch the Olympian poets and marvel!