The lost warrior...

I was happy when my copy of the movie "300" arrived at my work today. I ordered the Blu-Ray version of the dvd to play on my 50" flat screen monitor with all the glory of 1200 watts of 7.1 surround sound. I am a man, I beat my chest and let out a mighty warrior call that my ancestors would be proud of. Of course I saw the movie once before, on the big screen in all of it's blood thirsty glory. But now the comic I cherished, which became the movie I worshiped, now belonged to me in its spectacular 1080p of high definition clarity. The walls rumbled, as the first battle scene rocked the sub-woofer, and in that moment I knew my true self, and...felt such sadness at what I have been reduced to as a man.

Sounds silly I know. But it's not. It's sad that the definition of a man is determined by the car he drives, or his home stereo system owns, or the money he makes. Say it's not true, tell me that only some judge men this way, by the number of women he sleeps with, by how good he looks? Yes I know I am reaching to the far end of the spectrum, but the point I am trying to make is that as a man I have lost my warrior heart. I have lost the sense of conquering, my sense of adventure, and most of all the desire to save the damsel in distress.

As a boy I had little boy dreams, big dreams, dreams of being the hero, of beating the bad guys, of doing daring feats and rescuing the damsel in distress. What happened to those dreams as I grew into a man? I am not sure where those dreams have gone, but I can tell you that without them I am simply bored. So the question is how to recover the masculine heart, the secret ti my soul where I am a MAN, where I can delight in my own strength and wildness.

Where is that spirit of the Spartan Warrior? Who was bred from the age of 7 to become a Warrior, to become a true man; taught that there was no greater honor or sacrifice than to die in battle for the State of Sparta. Where the woman too have the warrior heart, after all it is Spartan woman who give birth to Spartan men. Where love is simple, and the passion is overabundant. Men loved as they fought, and loved to fight.

I want that passion, I ache for the sense of adventure, for the dreams of my youth; to explore and conquer, to battle and win, then come home to my wife and make love to her like there is no tomorrow. But I fear that like the rest of the men of the world, and even more so a weak addict, that I have become a pussy. Especially as an addict, where not only do we feel weak but we are looked upon and told we are weak; weak minded and weak willed.

But that is not the case, not for this man, this man is strong, this man is all man, all heart, and all soul. This man is awakening from his slumber, for I have been sleep walking for way too long. The world is soon mine for the taking, and take I will, conquer I will. First the fear, then recovery; I will fight, and I will rage, and I will never ever say die, and when that sweet taste of victory begins to drip from my brow, and I taste the salty sweat of my achievements, I will find my lady, and remind her of what it is like to be a woman. Something that she nor I will ever forget.