I recently found an old edition
of Don Quixote on one of my book
shelves and spent some time thinking about the title character as an icon for idealism
and the ways in which we pursue our personal notions of the ideal. Quixotism is
typically defined as a visionary action in which the quixotic person seeks
truth, justice, or beauty with an internal vision so clear that it “sees”
through the illusions of exterior experiences. It is also defined as
“impractical pursuit of ideals.” Impulsive people, spontaneous people,
idealists, dreamers, and romantics are considered quixotic. If you’re not
familiar with the book by Cervantes, you can read a brief summary at the following website:
There are, of course,
complexities in Cervantes’s novel, as well as multiple interpretations, that we
needn’t address here, but I thought that this week we might look at times in
our lives when we’ve been led by visionary ideals, impulses, spontaneity, or
romantic notions. I’m reminded here of a time many years ago when I was
driving to work and saw and elderly lady trip and fall on the sidewalk. I
pulled over to the side of the road and ran back to help her. With a lot more
strength that I could have imagined, she threw a punch that connected with my arm and then shouted that if I didn’t
leave she’d scream for help. I didn’t want to leave her sitting there on the
sidewalk (and those were the days before cell phones), so I hesitated, and she
started to scream. In fact, she got up and began to chase me down the street. I
suspected that she must be embarrassed by the fall, but she was definitely not as red-faced as I was. So much for being “heroic.” I like to think I did the right
thing, even though it made me late for work and cost me a bruise on the arm.
Things To Think About:
1. Has there ever been a time
when you tried to act as a “knight in shinning armor” but were rejected? What
“ideal” inspired you? How did the rejection make you feel?
2. Has there been a time when you
were “foolishly impractical?” Where did it lead you?
3. Don Quixote “tilted at
windmills,” seeing them as giants who threatened people. The expression
“tilting at windmills” has become an English language idiom that means
attacking imaginary or unbeatable enemies (“tilting” refers to jousting or,
more generally, to engaging in combat). Is there a metaphorical windmill at
which you’ve tilted? Has there ever been a concern or issue in your life that
you later learned was inconsequential despite your fear of it?
4. In 1644, John Cleveland
published in his London diurnall, “The Quixotes of this age fight the windmills
of their owne [sic] heads.” Can you relate that to something personal or
perhaps something in current society or politics? Have you ever fought a
symbolic windmill “in your own head?”
5. “Tilting at windmills” has
also come to mean trying to fight battles that can’t be won. Has there been
such a “battle” in your life? Keep in mind that the larger question is not
failure but, more importantly, how your actions affirmed a higher quality of
character.
6. When it first appeared in
print, Don Quixote was considered a
comic novel; by the nineteenth century, it was considered a social commentary;
and it later came to be called a tragedy. In keeping with the lighter (comic)
interpretations, can you write a narrative poem in which you tell the story of
a funny time you were idealistic, romantic, or heroic?
7. Is there something appealing about
an idealistic Don Quixote-kind of figure to you? What specifically? Why? How
are you like Don Quixote?
8. Do you remember a song titled “The Impossible Dream” from the play and movie The Man of La Mancha (based on the Cervantes novel)? To hear it, click on the arrow below. Now ... do you have (or have you ever had) an “impossible dream?”
Tips:
1. Be sure to write in an
authentic voice—the way you “say” things is critical to a poem’s success. Your
attitude toward the content is definitely part
of the content, and your language should be imaginative, unique, and
distinctive. Don’t simply tell a story—that would be prose.
2. Be wary of including so many
details that your poem becomes cluttered. You want to hold your readers’
attention, not lose them in superfluous particulars.
Examples:
