My first recollection of the Olympics is 1976 and Nadia Comaneci. I was eleven years old, bright eyed and bushy tailed, no doubt. I wasn't inspired to be a gymnast, but I was inspired. At this point in time I find the same sensation... I'm inspired again but it's vague and ethereal rather than sharp and motivational. I'm not sure at all what happened to the intervening 40 years worth of Olympic games. I was absent, checked out, not interested or just not tuned in. Wow...
The athlete stories on demand are most interesting to me. Their journey, their enthusiasm and undying devotion. I also enjoy the practical aspects and day to day details of how they maintain. I must say I am curious where the money comes from to support them and their coaches, etc. I'm not exactly clear on what I'm thinking precisely. There's a bit of a melancholy because of old memories and then a whimsical fascination with what the body is capable of. I do notice a hazy feeling of excitement and I look forward to being physically "myself" again soon.
Sorry so nebulous... it's always darkest before the dawn, I'll keep spinning it all around.
What shall I forgive this day to amuse and delight?
I decided back in November 2015 to make my poetry available and journal online. I'm not exactly sure what "blogging" means but I am quite sure this is an online journal. Feel free to read on with an aire of open minded curiosity. At no time do I intend to offend, judge or pretend to know anything really, I'm just an observer and explorer, as we all are. Feel free to "boldly go" through my observations and perhaps it will spark or inspire. Comments are off because I don't want to be worried about political correctness when I'm writing. I'm not thinking about "you." I'm just writing because it feels "right". Feel free to enjoy or surf on.
Fibber McGee's closet!