The Olympic Human
A human being achieves order in relation to that which is not human. When pondering the world of the Olympic athlete, we see this law in effect. The earliest Olympic athletes in Ancient Greece oriented themselves toward the supernatural. They strove to be like the swift-footed gods. Sacrifices were offered on altars before the start of the athletic games, which took place outside the sacred temple zone. Body and spirit were working toward some kind of balance. They were not at constant war.
The contemporary Olympic athlete, by contrast, defines himself in relation to the machine. His existence is reduced to highly-exacting scientific regimens designed to make both body and mind conform to machine-like regularity and control. He lives for years in an artificial, denatured world of flourescent-lit gyms and fitness machines. He is fed scientifically, like a laboratory animal. He wears not clothes, but freakish synthetic outfits invented by scientists and athletic technocrats. He has no leisure. His mind is bent at all times, as he stands before the control panel of his own body, upon infinitesimal differences in performance. A split second can make all the difference, in the way a split second can make all the difference in the smooth functioning of mechanical gears. Athletics supposedly make him a better person. But it must take him years after leaving this confining, technocratic sphere in which body and spirit are estranged to conquer the wild frontiers of his own soul.










