"True heroism is remarkably sober, very undramatic. It is not the urge to surpass all others at whatever cost, but the urge to serve others at whatever cost." - Arthur Ashe
Who do you believe in?
I’ve always had a soft spot for Don Quixote.
Many years ago, more years ago than I care to remember, we went to La Mancha, Spain, searching for windmills. As youngsters, my parents tok us to see The Man of La Mancha, the musical based on the story of Don Quixote. The book, written by Miguel de Cervantes, tells the story of an ordinary man, a flawed human being and his impossible dream. It is a story of challenge and impossibility, of friendship and honor, of despair and hope.
Don Quixote is fascinated by stories of chivalry. He reads so much that he forgets to sleep. So much that he forgets to eat. So much that he forgets who he is and jumps, head first, into his own fantastic and imaginary tale. Accompanied by his friend, Sancho Panza, he battles imaginary demons (windmills) in order to defend the honor of his lady love, a local farm girl he names Dulcinea. As Don Quixote slips further into his own madness, Sancho Panza and Dulcinea stand beside him even though they do not understand.
The reader goes along for the ride. As Don Quixote falls deeper and deeper into his illusion, he captures our hearts and our respect. His deep passion and commitment to his quest becomes the connecting point, the point at which we begin to admire and embrace his own unique form of truth. We see the world through his eyes, not as the insane ramblings of a madman but as he sees it, a world of battling giants and defending one’s honor. A world of friendship and loyalty and commitment to a dream.
3 years ago a bus pulled up in front of San Quentin prison. On the bus was a man who had just been released from prison. His was not a pretty tale. Years of incarceration, drug addiction and crime had all but ruined him. As he stepped off the bus, his eyes drifted to the west in the direction of his hometown. There, just a few miles away, was a life that was familiar. His family and friends were there. It was all he knew.
And in that moment, he made a decision. He would not go back.
He could not go back.
He sat in a chair at the front of a classroom full of fresh-faced undergraduates. The stark contrast of their lives was extraordinary. He spoke in measured tones, slowly and clearly so that everyone could hear. Telling his story has become part of his recovery.
At that moment, he tells them, he made a decision that would save his life. Instead of going to the west, back to the life he knew, a life of addiction and violence and crime, he went north, and although he did not yet know it, in search of someone who would believe in him.
Inside the walls of the homeless shelter are men and women just like him. People who have lost their way, fallen victim to their own brand of insanity.
There is a moment in The Man of La Mancha, when Dulcinea asks Sancho Panza the question that is in all of our minds, “Why do you follow him?”
Why do you believe in him?
“I like him,” replies Sancho. “I really like him.”
His faith in his friend makes all the difference.
Sitting in the classroom with my students, I listen to the story that I have heard many times before. A story that at this point through my work with him and the others like him, I now know intimately. There are many Don Quixote’s here looking for their Sancho Panza, a person or persons who will go into battle with them. Will fight windmills and slay dragons and defend the honor of their very own Dulcinea.
They are looking for someone to believe in them.
He tells the class of the changes that he has made. Of the battles he has fought, the windmills he has conquered, the life his won back. It has been hard, he tells them, but he is grateful for those who have stood by him, for his very own squire, his person who believed.
And that, he tells them, has made all the difference. Image from here.