The Olympics have come and gone in Beijing. The next summer Olympics will be in London in 2012. The winter Olympics will be in Vancouver in 2010.

I really enjoyed the Olympics this year.

I was amazed at some of the displays of athletic impossibilities realized during these Olympics. You can’t slow down, look sideways, pound your chest and still win the 100 meters, can you? Usain Bolt did so and still set a world record. Oh, and Michael Phelps won eight — count’ em, eight — gold medals. The 100-meter butterfly and the 4 x100 relay were spectacularly exciting and the very essence of athletic competition.

Phelps seems to be a regular person and it was nice to see him show some of the astonishment in winning that all of us were feeling watching. I hope a Wheaties box won’t change him, because he certainly will be on one.

The Redeem Team actually did a really, really good job of displaying a team approach to basketball and a genuine joy and exuberance for their sport that is rarely seen in the NBA. Way to go. U-S-A! U-S-A! Nationalism aside, I will say that Ricky Rubio, the guard for Spain, is pretty exciting to watch.

The opening and closing ceremonies overwhelmed the senses and clearly let the world know, as if a reminder was necessary, that China is here, is powerful, is technologically advanced, and clearly has people and an incredibly adaptable wherewithal.

The pageantry of the ceremonies was an awe-inspiring explosion of color, technology, movement and an army of people that was difficult to fully comprehend, and probably, very difficult to properly convey. Suffice it to say that the opening and closing ceremonies were well worth the time invested in viewing. I can’t imagine the level of technical and artistic choreography that was required to craft such a flawless presentation.

Oh, and did they have fireworks? Yes they most certainly did.

I was not thoroughly convinced by the Page, Leona Lewis and David Beckham appearances, but suspect that, given time, London will rise to the occasion.

We won’t all have the opportunity to win gold medals in the Olympics. Well, I guess we all have that opportunity but very, very few of us will ever be able to realize the dream of earning a gold medal. Ninety-nine percent of us won’t even try, let alone give it so much as a passing thought. “You know, I think I’m going chase after that gold medal for the (your sport here) over the next four years and train every single day, rainy or not, and I’m giving up sweets, too.” You might, but probably not.

The feeling that awakens after the initial, sensual shock of the ceremonies is one that reaches deep down in each of us and allows us to glimpse, however briefly, a world existing in harmony. A glimpse of recognition, that in the end, people are people, and we are all so assigned and cannot request alternate assignments. We might look different and speak different languages but we, truly, are us.

I think this is sometimes overlooked during the heat of the individual and team competitions, but is made wonderfully apparent during the opening and closing ceremonies. It is OK to be human, hopeful and caring, and it isn’t that difficult to act accordingly. I believe this feeling is universally shared during these ceremonies. It is a shame it is so slippery and fleeting.

Time will once again quickly fill up with wars, hunger, poverty, hatred and all of the other ills that plague our world and are ultimately the result of choices that, one way or the other, are controllable. So often we seem to make the wrong choices. The Olympics remind us that, every so often, we are capable of making the right choices, as well.

The 2010 Winter Olympics will be here soon, and although all of the aforementioned ills will still surround us, for another moment we will be able to reacquaint ourselves with our shared, redeeming potential.

The Olympic motto is “Faster, higher, stronger.” It is subject to interpretation but essentially means to do your best and I think everyone did.

Wonderful job, China! Wonderful job, world! You left us hopeful.

Now, come on, how could Usain do that?

(Gustafson lives in Napa.)