I read many books during my most isolated moments and found comfort in the words written by many great authors. We all at some point escape into the world written by these amazing writers because it either gives us a sense of realization we so desperately need in search of our own answers, or it molds the way we live our lives today.
When I read Rollo May’s work “The Man Who Was Put in a Cage” in Man’s Search for Himself, he wrote a parable about a king that imprisoned an innocent man to discover the different emotional stages a person goes through once they have lost their freedom. To his surprise what he found during these stages besides anger, hatred, and resentment for the king, was compliance and finally acceptance. However, nothing could fill that empty void his captive felt when he was no longer a free man.
Legend has it that Miguel de Cervantes started writing Man of La Mancha during a five-year prison term he served in the seventeenth century. When I wrote “This is most likely the reason why, when Guapo ran the baseball field, I felt so exhilarated. I lived that experience of agility and freedom through him.” I felt this was our greatest moments. Or perhaps, at that time, Guapo was for me what Sancho Panza was for Don Quixote when he charged the windmill. Perhaps we were just living our own adventures.