Heartache and Hope

Perspective came quickly to the 2010 Olympic games in Vancouver, when Nodar Kumaritashvili was thrown from his luge in a practice run before the opening ceremonies even began. His death was violent and shocking and is still difficult for many to accept. In our hearts we want to believe that he died pursuing a passion for his sport, but that does little to quell the anguish of a nation, or supplant the emptiness we all feel.

A similar dose of perspective seemed to fall upon 24 year-old Canadian figure skater Joannie Rochette. Only a few short hours after arriving in Vancouver to watch her child skate in her second Olympic games, Joannie’s mother Thérèse died after suffering a heart attack.

Word came quickly that despite her devastating loss, Joannie would continue to pursue her dream for Olympic glory. One must presume her mother would have wanted her daughter to go on, but no one could ask or expect her to do so. The most honourable of intentions aside, it is impossible to know what she will feel as she steps onto the ice this evening. We know at least, that her world and her heart have been shattered.

Some have suggested that there has been more than enough tragedy and upset at the Vancouver Olympics thus far. Perhaps.

One of the most appealing aspects of the games, far above the media hype and the intensity of international competition, is that the Olympics often showcase the best qualities of humanity: humility, grace and courage.

The everyday life cycle of this planet bears witness to some of the worst of what we can be. Selfishness, intolerance, greed. We are prone to deep cynicism. We become provincial in our thinking. We lose the hope and strength needed to rise above ourselves.

The Olympic games are in many ways a symbol of what we could be, how we could be and what we should aspire to be. They challenge the fortitude of those values we hold in such high regard, our openness, pride and acceptance. They expose our flaws even as we attempt to reach our highest aspirations.

The harshness of life intercedes regardless of our hopes, plans and visions. Tragedy doesn’t stop to take note of an appropriate time or place. It is indiscriminate and impersonal.

The measure of our fragile lives is not in the success or failure of human endeavor, or in the rich rewards or tragic losses that are beyond our control. It is in the way in which we receive and respond to them.

We can easily be cynical about the Olympics as a display of corporate profiteering or the hyperbole of a self-serving media. At times, the games can reveal much about what divides us.

For a moment at least, could we forget about the medals, and the flags, and the chest-thumping, and embrace an often-undervalued quality of the games?

Unity.

This night, Joannie will glide onto the ice as one skater, but she will not be alone. We will all be with her, as we are with the family of Nodar, and all those whose humility, grace and courage has been, and will be, tested in the pursuit of their dreams. Perhaps with luck and determination, this spirit can transcend the games to give our weary world the hope and strength to rise above ourselves. For now, we can only dream.

Go Canada, go world.