A Fine Line between Agony and Ecstasy

As I've been glued to my chair and computer, writing my book on building housing for baby boomers (deadline loooooooms!), I've had the Olympics on much of the time. Their schedule matches mine lately -- on all the time, including in the middle of the night.

Sometimes I can write with the sound on, but sometimes it's too distracting, mostly when I am stuck on something. So sometimes I keep it on but hit the mute button.

And I've noticed something. I've been aware of it before, but in the Olympics emotions are heightened to the extreme and, especially with the sound off, it's even more evident.

Agony and ecstasy pretty much look the same. I know they don't feel the same but our bodies and faces (especially) look the same when we're screaming in emotional or physical pain and when we're shrieking with delight.

Look at Michael Phelps -- God knows they play everything over and over and over -- at the end of the 400-meter relay race that clinched his 8th gold medal. His mouth is wide open and his eyes are nearly squinted shut. If you didn't know, would you think he was freaking out-upset or freaking out-ecstatic? Angry or disbelievingly joyful?

When contenders' parents are shown in the stands as their kids triumph or flounder, they look pretty much the same. Their faces scrunch up, their eyes close, their jaws drop, they shake their heads in disbelief, they collapse. And they burst into tears.

Maybe that explains why sometimes we are sobbing and end up in giggles, or we are hooting and end up in choking wails. The extreme emotions seem to unleash the other emotions that have been bottled up next to them.

Okay, back to writing. Just had to note that. I'll try to keep my emotions in check as I write, just to avoid confusion.