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Think for a moment of a grand cataract roaring down the mountain side. Say a dam has given way, or erosion has weakened a mountain side. Nothing can resist the cascade. Boulders, soil, trees, people, all gives way and goes tumbling down. Then the water runs up against another ridge or a gully and calms down. What was turbulent one moment becomes a quiet pool the next leaving some drops of water splattered on the nearby ledges and rocks. After a while, things settle down, and life goes on.  That image of geological commotion will serve as an image of today’s Olympic games, summer and winter, participants and spectators. Everybody gets caught up in Olympia.

And while it was here the Olympians did amazing things. We can’t keep track of the speed, the whirling, the leaping, the close to miraculous coordination of bodies together then apart then together again. Individuals will glory in their medals and public fame. There will be family (not public) stories for generations and rightly so. 

But like the spray of a waterfall as the hot, dry summer arrives, the froth of fame dries up as the world turns and the yet unborn begin their preparations for the next display. The present dissolves into the past, and the froth of fame evaporates.