Saturday, February 13, 2010

"Chronic contemplation syndrome", on "chronic contemplation syndrome."

I'm guilty of this. Or else, my brain is still in recovery from being in the dark for decades, living in rainy Vancouver. While watching the Vancouver Olympic torch run/celebrations on TV yesterday, I kept seeing the pouring rain and thinking, so glad I don't live there anymore. Nice job, though, extroverts. It was a very nice series of moments all strung together serially through TV time, like a string of happy pearls.

So sorry about the luge guy. And the perpetual rain. And that one chunk of cauldron that got stuck/wouldn't lift up. The rest was GREAT! The infinite boundless free-wheeling bright feeling of the prairie vignette was on the mark. Loved the First Nation dancing and diversity. Loved the edgy punky fiddler/dancers, so different from Don Messer days of my childhood. Loved the poet from the North West Territories, riotous colors of fall, whales swimming across the floor, the lit maple leaf motif toward the finale. Loved that you included sonorous Donald Sutherland (who voiced-over in many of the Olympic ads) in the ceremony, one of my all-time favorite actors. Loved that the announcer didn't notice that the torch carried by Wayne Gretzky was smoothly traded at least twice on the way to the outdoor cauldron, causing him to wonder aloud why the Gretzky torch was so long-lasting compared to the normal torches...

But I digress. Back to chronic contemplation syndrome... and for now, chronically contemplating... Having a name for it will help my brain work on a way to overcome it. Just a teeny shift - that might be all it takes, to change the course, the outcome, the direction of accumulation of small efforts over time that amount to a life lived more rather than less successfully. Thank you for that, Nic Lucas.

1 comment:

Unknown said...

Day XXX of gray skies and drizzle here in Oregon. Also day 7 of a respiratory virus. I couldn't agree more about the sum of small efforts. It seems to apply in all arenas.