Tonight, like a whole lot of other people, I watched the opening ceremonies of the Athens Olympic Games on TV. The theatrical part was fabulous for an old classicist like me, since I grew up studying ancient Greek language and culture. The mixture of stylized historic costumes, slow pace, acrobatics, big suspended shapes, Mahler music, and splashing water was very Symbolist and "European" and probably bewildered many Americans, despite the well-meaning commentary attempting to explain it. There was only one pop singer ("Bjork," from Iceland). It was quite un-Hollywood, no lineups of chorus girls or chrome pickup trucks or Oriental fire dancers. Surprisingly Serious, for a big international pageant.

I am an unashamed fan of big pageantry. I just love it. Maybe it's an artist thing; I would imagine it is not a scientist or mathematician thing. I love costumes, dancing, special effects, light-shows, and fireworks, as long as I watch them and don't have to actually do them myself. So I had a great time watching the Olympic show tonight, complete with the neo-Zoroastrian lighting of the futuristic torch, which when erect (yes) resembles a gas burn-off tower at an oil refinery.

I also loved the parade of athletes, from all those countries I've only barely heard of (Sao Tome et Principe? Timor Deste?). More costumes! The Central Asian countries had particularly wonderful flag-bearers. Each Olympics I watch for the Mongolian group because they usually feature a burly wrestler as flag-bearer, wearing a fur loincloth, fur boots and hat, and a big wide cape, kind of like Conan the Barbarian. But since the ceremony this year took place in 90-degree heat, the Mongolians, as the commentators said, "left their fur at home."

The cameras lovingly dwelt on these thousands of young athletes, each one of them more beautiful, glowing, and super-fit than the next. Bright, ephemeral flowers of humanity, here for one glorious moment in the summer sunlight. Most of them will never win anything, but will do their best and have two weeks of fun. Those who are ranked and pressured competitors may have less fun, but they are more inspiring to me.

I don't care much about the issues of performance-enhancing drugs, or cheating, or politics. It's the uplifting ideal of intense discipline, struggle and victory (or honorable defeat) which I believe in. Back in 2000, though, I couldn't bear to watch the Olympics. When I saw the young athletes and their life-consuming, goal-oriented striving, I felt intense envy, leading to depression. I felt as though despite making lots of nice art, I had achieved nothing, and I was in my late forties. I was wasting my time, with no goal in sight. I would never be one of those enchanted youths, and never had been. I had nothing to strive for.

But that year I visited Fermilab, and experienced the inspiration which gave me my own goal to aim for. I know that I will not win medals or prizes, never enter the "math Olympics" (a contest for the brainier kind of flowerlike youth) and I won't ever make any new scientific discoveries. But learning math and physics has become my own personal goal, my own private Olympic quest. My victories are small, and won't win me any fame or fortune. But they mean something to me. My Olympic torch shines in the energies of particle accelerators and quasars. And so I can watch the athletic Olympics again with joy, knowing that I too can strive for the Pythagorean laurels.

Posted at 2:56 am | link