This Is Not Sparta.

Last night I watched Prince of Persia. I sat there in the dark theater as Disney served up a smorgasbord of tantalizing, impressive images of Jake Gyllenhaal slaying hoards of villains, running parkour through ancient Persian cities, and, of course, winning the heart of the flawlessly beautiful Gemma Arterton. The film was enjoyable, though predictable.  However, as with almost any action or fantasy movie, it left me with some sense of dissatisfaction with my own life.

I’d like to think that my life isn’t mediocre. I am daily enthralled with the beauty of life on earth. I’ve tasted life. I’ve loved and I’ve bled and I’ve cried and I’ve lived.

 But I’ve never saved a life. I’ve never saved the world. I’ve never even saved the day. I’ve never backflipped over an eternally deep chasm. I’ve never decapitated a snake as it leapt to bite my friend. I’ve never wooed the princess of a holy city. And, I guess, neither has Jake Gyllenhaal.

Mankind aches for greatness. Our souls long for glorious victory. Our hearts beat with a fervor for grandeur. Our hands feel empty without the handle of a sword, and our legs itch to sprint into the chaos of a battlefield.

Where is glory today? Where is my sword and shield? Where are my horse and my lance? Where, even, is my enemy?

Humanity aches for greatness, but today, in the year 2010, where is greatness to be found?