Friday, December 18, 2009

Olympic Torch Run – Stouffville Main Street

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School Groups awaiting the torch.

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Stouffville’s Town Crier.

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And a close up: I love 10 megapixels.

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The glowing man. Tempting to photoshop the flame in. It truly was visible in a spectacular way, but you’ll have to use your imagination. I don’t doctor photos beyond adjustments and crops. Nope.

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The celebration continued at 19 on the Park, the renovated Municipal Offices where I do life drawing. This photo views to the North and shows the Clock Tower, and the people heading inside. I had Dynamo with me, so it was time to depart.

Hope you enjoyed the Picture Diary.

And because I’m a blabber mouth, here’s the text version:

While being completely uninterested in organized sports; I’m glad I went. Not unlike Christmas, the Olympics has been politicized, corporatized, and indelibly tarnished. Quite like Christmas, there is still much to be valued in participation of public traditions. Reading Joseph Campbell’s, Hero of a Thousand Faces gave me a richer perspective of the proceeding; here is the hero myth rewritten and re-enacted for our modern times. Completely secular and cross-cultural, a modern product of blatant propaganda and corporate sponsorship it appropriately reflects the mores of our society. The fact that the torch run is a (relatively) recent invention, and lets not get into by whom, is perfectly in keeping with the theory that every society must rewrite their myths anew in terms relevant to the times. While most of us may be unaware of the monomyth theory, a deep primitive part of us recognizes and responds.

And so, armed with both cynicism and knowledge, the sight of of the glow of pride on the torch bearer’s face brought quick tears to my eyes. The story, the ancient story that has been told and retold, adjusted, rewritten and discovered anew was written there. The pride shown was of a special kind, lacking in personal ego, full of communal duty, showing an instinctive knowledge that he was an integral and special part of some great story, a story that spans the history of mankind, and he was the bringer of fire, of glory to be shared with all.

Hope you enjoyed my small town pictures. I forgot how quaint Main Street Stouffville can be until I began editing.

4 comments:

Michelle (artscapes) said...

I was gong to say... I love the buildings!
When you strip away the corporate gloss and see the hero archetype for what it is, myths are merely creative imagination - imagining the world all over again - because like the hero in the story we tell, we are the divine makers of our own world.

kaslkaos said...

Michelle, I thought you might. We have lots, but the businesses on Main Street are small and beleagured if they don't do well I fear for their preservation. We already lost an historic building that had been an ice-cream parlour since the 1950's and a general store before that.

Chrissy said...

It looks like a procession full of character and life....and it does look quaint. Sometimes it is good to have that balanced view, most things 'are' for many reasons.
I can once remember a catholic priest laughing at me because I said that I love the concept of lighting a candle for someone. He said, "so what do you do? take all the bits out of religion that you like"....Yup basically that's what I do and leave all the politics and machinations to others ;D

kaslkaos said...

I'm beginning to admire catholism as being the last bastion of many ancient rituals upheld--somehow, I don't think practicing Catholics would appreciate why I just said that.
On the priests side, he probably is just tired of 'church of convenience' people and lumped you in amongst them rather accepting the nuance of your individual spirituality. Ack, did I just say all that? Maybe I should open up shop as Madam Ingrid, Jungian dream interpreter? Actually, Stouffville already has one of those, won't mention her name. I'll stick to the books.
And now I really feel like going to church and lighting a candle. It is one of those beautiful universal things-also common to many faiths.

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