Don Quixote and Sancho Panza

April 15, 2019

Idealism or pragmatism – which attitude is wiser? This was the gist of the phone conversation I just had with my old friend Joseph.

I had called him on another matter, and then asked him what he thought of my last post, The Magnificent Seven (April 10). As someone who has known me for half a century, he perceptively observed that that post reflected my ongoing need for hero worship. Whether those heroes were white cowboys riding to the rescue of Mexican villagers in a Hollywood movie, or Japanese Buddhist leaders exhorting Joseph and me to follow their vision of world peace, I have always had a need to look up to someone who could represent an exemplary way of living, a model for the kind of man I could someday become. My father was a good man and role model, but I didn’t fully appreciate him until later in life. I grew up needing or wanting someone to inspire me to fulfill my potential, and arguably I’m still looking, consciously or unconsciously, for such a figure today. Even if it turns out that such a personage already exists somewhere within me.

Interestingly it was one of our Buddhist leaders, Masayasu Sadanaga (later known as George M. Williams, but that’s another story), who in 1972 fell in love with that year’s Man of La Mancha movie and soundtrack. He decided that the movie would be the theme of our 1973 convention in Japan, so we began singing The Impossible Dream at our Buddhist meetings. We admired the fictional Don Quixote and Sancho Panza characters created by Spanish author Miguel de Cervantes. I still remember a scene from the movie, in which Peter O’Toole, playing both Cervantes and Quixote, says “Life itself seems lunatic. Who knows where madness lies? Perhaps to be too practical is madness, to surrender dreams – this may be madness. To seek treasure where there is only trash. Too much sanity may be madness! And maddest of all – to see life as it is and not as it should be!”

So we became Quixotic in our quest for the impossible dream of world peace, and I became Quixotic in my hope for enlightenment and for worldly success.

Coincidentally, I had given a foot-tall wooden carving of Don Quixote to my dad as a Christmas gift circa 1967, and he kept the figure on his bookshelf for 40 years until his death. Now I have that statuette on my Buddhist altar, symbolizing the idealism of my spiritual path. Yet I can’t help wondering if that optimism is naive and foolish.

Joseph described himself today as a pragmatist, and we joked that he is Sancho Panza to my Don Quixote. He said that he doesn’t try to change the world or make his life better; rather, he appreciates and accepts things the way they are. I acknowledged the wisdom of that approach, while admitting that I would still like to make improvements in the life that I have. But my wishful thinking creates suffering whenever I feel frustrated that my desired improvements are not happening. He pointed out that I have much to be grateful for: excellent health, living (simply) in the same beautiful neighborhood for 34 years, the ability to hike and travel in ways that he and many others cannot. I agreed that I am very fortunate indeed, and added that I do appreciate my good circumstances. But for whatever reason I’m hard-wired for idealism in this lifetime, though as Joseph pointed out, I may be too attached to my vision of the way things could or should be.

Perhaps the wisest approach is a balance between the romanticism of Don Quixote and the realism of Sancho Panza. Yes, being a dreamer can be hopelessly utopian, but it can also provide reassurance and inspiration. Being practical is more sensible, down-to-earth, and grounded in reality, but can be too utilitarian and lack the magic and joy of a visionary. Don Quixote was a delusional zealot, but I admire his passion for his quest and his platonic love for his imaginary Dulcinea. Sancho Panza was content to be who he was, and Joseph laughs a lot and enjoys his life just the way it is.

I think I want to be Sancho Quixote.