IMPOSSIBLE DREAM

I’m preparing to audition next month for Musical Theatre Southwest’s production of Man of La Mancha. It seems an especially timely show for the first quarter of the new year, offering a message of persistent hope through the most trying circumstances.

Man of La Mancha is a play within a play — layers of torment, wrapped up in delusion, bound in futility — with a tremendous dream at its heart. An “impossible” dream that makes all the difference in the world.

The plot has a rather convoluted setup. Miguel de Cervantes has been thrown into a dungeon by the Spanish Inquisition. The prisoners there want to steal his possessions, including his handy trunk of props and costumes, but are persuaded first to let him tell them a story in the form of a play. Cervantes transforms himself into the character of an elderly man who so longs for justice and chivalry that he has lost his mind and now believes himself to be an heroic knight, Don Quixote de la Mancha. The other prisoners portray all the other characters in Quixote’s story — the quest of his lifetime. Though Quixote is clearly mad, his noble vision is so inspiring that eventually everyone comes to believe in it. Believing in the dream and believing in themselves.

The whole score is absolutely gorgeous, I really, really hope I get to sing it. And the message brings tears to my eyes. The most famous song, by composer Mitch Leigh with lyrics by Joe Darion, is “The Quest (The Impossible Dream),” which goes:

To dream the impossible dream
To fight the unbeatable foe
To bear with unbearable sorrow
To run where the brave dare not go

To right the un-rightable wrong
To love, pure and chaste, from afar
To try when your arms are too weary
To reach the unreachable star —

This is my quest, to follow that star
No matter how hopeless, no matter how far
To fight for the right, without question or pause
To be willing to march into hell for a heavenly cause

And I know if I’ll only be true to this glorious quest
Then my heart will lie peaceful and calm as I’m laid to my rest

And the world will be better for this
That one man, scorned and covered with scars
Still strove with his last ounce of courage
To reach the unreachable star

It’s the last stanza that really gets me — the assurance that it matters, that our beliefs and choices and actions matter. Whether or not things work out as we wish. Whether or not justice is served. No matter what, the world is bettered to the degree that we consciously embody its betterment. Even when it seems impossible, unreachable, unbeatable, un-rightable. Maybe especially then.

Over the past few months, I’ve encountered in a number of different places the axiom: “To save one life is to save the world.” This is usually attributed to the Talmud. It’s also in the Quran.

I think we might extrapolate the idea to include all that we do with mindfulness and care. That one act of kindness is a kindness for the whole world. That looking for beauty in one person or situation opens up a universe of beauty. One commitment, one forgiveness, one promise — however unreasonable and idealistic, crazy even — brings forth possibility that would, otherwise, never exist.

I don’t know what’s going to be required of us in the months ahead. I expect we’re going to have to muster a buttload of fortitude, faith, creativity, and vision. Good god, it can get overwhelming real fast when I think about it. But maybe we can start simply, with ourselves — with who we choose to be, who we’re willing to declare ourselves to be, regardless of circumstances. That feels a lot more manageable.

Václav Havel wrote, “There is only one thing that I will not concede: that it might be meaningless to strive in a good cause.”

Even the tiniest glimmer of hope can change everything. Our foolish hearts can mean everything. Dream forth, Loved Ones.

I can’t wait to be with you this Sunday, November 17, at 10:00am at q-Staff Theatre. I’m excited to welcome special musical guests, Salt Road. XO, Drew

©2024 Drew Groves