In a moment of silence

And so, try to remember: the great event when you breathed out and created this entire Kosmos; remember the great emptying when you threw yourself out as the entire World, just to see what would happen. Remember the forms and forces through which you have traveled thus far: from galaxies to planets, to verdant plants reaching upward for the sun, to animals stalking day and night, restless with their weary search, through primal men and women, yearning for the light, to the very person now holding this book: remember who and what you have been, what you have done, what you have seen, who you actually are in all those guises, the masks of the God and the Goddess, the masks of your own Original Face. Ken Wilber

I had many moments of awe watching the opening ceremonies of the 2010 Olympics on Friday night. The unnamed snowboarder flying through the lit rings. The LED lit giant bear rising up out of the earth in a sea of tiny lights floating on the air. The majesty of a pod of Orca whales swimming across the ocean of the arena floor. What an amazing feat to create such beauty and realism out of technology. Creativity shimmered in the air. Awe danced upon the waters, in the trees, against the backdrop of a harvest moon. It was spectacular.

Perhaps though, the most awe-inspiring moment was felt in a minute of silence. A minute filled with no fancy techno-gizery bringing whales to life on an arena floor, or trees falling in an ancient forest. It was a silent, still, profound moment. A moment when the 60,000 present in the arena and the estimated 3 billion people around the globe who sat in front of their television's, held their collective peace and shared a minute of silence to honour a young Georgian man, Nodar Kumaritashvili, whose life ended that very morning while speeding down the luge track.

His untimely death was tragic. It is sad and heart-breaking to see one so young deprived of life. It was inspiring to see his teammates walk into the auditorium, to witness the heartfelt response of the crowd gathered to celebrate, stand and offer up their ovation for their fallen friend. It was all they could do.

And then, the ceremonies started and I sat in awe watching the spectacular unfold. But, it wasn't until later, when the speeches began that I really knew awe. First, John Furlong spoke with passion about life and living and pursuing dreams, and the loss of a dream to one young man. And then, Jock Rogges invited everyone to stand in silence to honour this young man whose life had ended too young.

And that was when awe descended.

Imagine. 3 billion people paying their respects at the same time. 3 billion people sitting silently to honour a young man whose name had previously been unknown in the majority of their minds. 3 billion people silent. 3 billion people silently holding their thoughts, their woes, their fears, their tears, their joys, their triumphs at bay while they silently honoured this young luger who would race no more.

In his life, Nodar Kumaritashvili could have hoped to win a few gold medals, some acclaim, some media attention. Who knows what he might have achieved. I pray, that in his passing he knows that he has commanded a presence in the world that leaves a legacy of hope, of peace of possibility. He has awoken a dream. For in his death, he has taught us that it is possible for 3 billion people to come together in peace. He has taught us that collectively we can unite our thoughts on one single idea celebrating life, and be silent together.

If we can do that, what else is possible?

If we can collectively sit in silence for one minute together, what other greatness are we capable of achieving, together?

It was a moment of awe for me. It continues to hold me in its thrall.

Almost half the world's population were joined in that moment with one common goal. To honour a young man whose tiny metal sled had careened off the course while carrying him down the track at death-defying speeds. They were silent in support of those for whom the loss of Nodar will forever mark their lives. They were silent to give voice to the majesty, the magnificence, the incredible beauty of the human spirit.

Our spirit.

Our humanity.

Our life.

Nodar Kumaritashvili did not defy death on Friday, February the 12th, 2010. He did defy the odds. Who would have bet that one man could unite the world in a common goal of holding one minute of silence in reverence of a human life?