Olympics of the Mind.

The Mind is a strange thing.

It is all about being sporty. Or even Olympian. 

Sometimes, it's about competing against itself.  

Like mobilizing into a sensible start, and  taking a leap, high as you can, and sometimes, as far as you can, despite knowing that there is a wee chance that one might crash land.  And then reflecting about it, and doing it all over again.

Like sometimes, doing a restrained mindslog run,  observing stuff around, very self-aware , with new learnings;  and then , at some point, energized and suddenly getting excited , and pushing for something, giving it your all,  

Like getting hold of something unpleasant, and deciding it has no place in your life, and so you clutch it tight , whirl around at higher and higher speeds, and fling it as far as you can. It could be a ball of confusion, or a  loaded mind disc, it just needs to go as far as possible from the mind.

Sometimes, the mind is so focused, it knows where something needs to hurt someone.  And so it is about pointing the sharp edge of the word javelin, and ensuring the throw hurts whoever catches it. 

Sometimes though, it's something between opposing sides.

Like a mind persona whacked like a tennis ball, forehanded whips and backhanded compliments, and sharp vile smashes and insults lobbed away sky high, and occasionally dropped cunningly across doubtful nets.  And just when you pick up the pieces, and look skywards in supplication, you are whipped on to the other side, to devious applause.

And à propos the world we live in, this also comes in S, M and L.   The size having to do with the problem size.  Sometimes, a small quick slap and whip across a green table, a brittle mind cracking across helplessly . Sometimes, misled by a medium feathered thought, a slower wandering, and tumbling deviously across badminton nets.  Two minds, in a game of one upmanship, , unwilling to accept that there is only one winner.

There is destruction of belief, good sense, as ambition soars, and a killer instinct sharpens itself.  You come to a fork in the road and take the wrong one.  The way back isn't easy. Provided you wanted to come back, that is.

But sometimes, minds get touched by the ethereal.  There is a slow stretching to absorb and understand, a deep bending to pay respects, a gentle twirl to amuse the supporting earth, and sensing imminent achievement, then a sudden graceful leap of thought, flying high , drunk on the energy of potentials.  A dance of the mind, that has rehearsed and rehearsed the happy moves,  knowing full well, that those watching  share the wonder as well.

Today, the minds are all about the first type. getting kicks out of pointing and throwing. Or possibly the second type, where it it is all about the perceived returns.

Talking about multimind games  is pointless.  Too many  minds corrupt the thought.  Thoughts then  imbibe more quantity than quality. There is a verbal and physical bashing up of those perceived as a threat.  There is a politics of the mind.  And the sport  is a gone case.

Like all Olympics, these mind Olympics too have crises and problems. Too many misleading influencers.    

And yet, to its eternal credit, there are those minds, that  keep on the weather beaten track, still full of potholes of fear, doubt and loss, slogging one step after another, sometimes, limping along, sometimes on a run and sometimes in a weird walk; there are yet some minds, that firmly hold on to the age old handlebars, and get cracking with the floor exercises, which will one day help them fly high and delight those watching them, as they pirouette and jump and leap  in celebration , delighting the endorphinal orchestra...

There are no special, periodic , Opening and Closing ceremonies.

Just one ceremony when you are born, and one , closing it all, in the end.

But like the real Olympics,  the win is momentary.

What matters is how you played the game.