"Richard Bach with this book


does two things.


He gives me Flight.


He makes me Young.


For both I am deeply grateful."


-- Ray Brabury




         I must begin honestly.




         When I first purchased this book, I kept the receipt. In every sense, Jonathan Livingston Seagull (henceforth referred to as JLS) appeared to be a children's book. I cast no aspersions on the genre as I have read many fine children's books, however, when I buy a book from the New Age rack of my favorite used bookstore, I expect something a bit loftier.




         I was not disappointed.









         The book opens with wonderful black and white photographs of seagulls doing what they do best: soaring the clouds; ridin the waves; staring into the blue and beyond, into the face of God. The pictures (taken by Russell Munson) are inlaid throughout the book and imbue it with a sense of "the natural" and beg one's attention and reflection. I've found myself taking the book from the shelf from time to time and simply looking at the pictures of the gulls and remembering the poignancy of the tale they accompany.




         But it is the tale that has led me to this point.




         From the onset, JLS elicits our empathy. He enjoys solitude, blending in, being at peace. He is wonderous, pensive, and ambitious. He wants nothing more than for the members of his flock to afford him the respect and admiration he has, for so long, afforded them. He decides, at 2000 feet above the sea, to become the finest seagull to ever grace the breeze, to reach his true potential, without fear or trepidation.




         Who among us can honestly admit they've done the same? What task is more difficult than being who we are, moreover, who we COULD be?




         Jonathan dives, the ocean nothing more than a black, undulating void below him. As his dive speed nears one hundred forty miles and hour, he is neither boastful nor brash. Rather, he is thankful of his ability and wonders how much faster he would have been able to dive from five thousand feet.




         Like Julius Ceasar, JLS's ambition garners scorn, and not at all the quiet admiration he had sought.




         For what is deemed "reckless irresponsibility," JLS is summoned before the Council Gathering. For "violating the dignity and tradition of the Gull Family," Jonathan is banished to the Far Cliffs. His brotherhood turns their collective back on him.




         His brotherhood forever dissolved, he vows to lean more about himself, to understand why and who he is. He strives for a sense of completeness, of being a thread in Life's grand fabric.




         But learning and redemption do not come quick for Jonathan. Life in the Far Cliffs is treacherous and taxing.




         One day, near what feels to be the end of his life, two gulls, as "pure as starlight," appear on Jonathan's wing.




         "We're from your Flock, Jonathan. We are your brothers."




         Jonathan is skeptical.




         "Home I have none. Flock I have none. I am Outcast. And we fly now at the peak of the Great Mountain Wind...I can lift this old body no higher."




         But JLS learns to fly higher indeed. Understanding breaks across Jonathan's face like the advent of morning. Sadder, but wiser, he realizes that when one "school is finished...the time has come for another to begin."




         With one last look upon the ocean he loved and the Cliffs that have embraced him when others would not, he lets fall one magnificent tear, rises into the darkness, and is gone.




         Whosoever in their lives has sought meaning and higher purpose, Jonathan is their champion. He begs us to live, to discover, to soar! He wishes only to be free to explore the upper and lower limits of his being and to discover what it means to be alive but is punished for what can be nothing other than what must be termed "humanity."




         Adventure, romance, peace of mind, wholeness of heart - of such pursuits is JLS emblematic. He champions those facets of life which make it more bearable and worth the living.









         "So this is heaven," Jonathan begins.




         But Jonathan's stay in paradise is brief. True understanding carries with it an inherent responsibility: spread it. Bring others into your flock. He is challenged to return and teach others of what knowledge awaits. He is offered redemption at the cost of faith.




         Jonathan is daunted by returning to the world of mortals, the world which saw fit to cast him off for no greater crime than that of wonder.




         I will say no more of Part Two, or Part Three for that matter, for to do so will stain them with my own humble interpretations. I will say that what follows is pure and powerful and awe-inspiring. It is philosophical and spiritual, fortifying and soulful.




         It is in the latter two-thirds of the book, that JLS meets Chiang, his teacher, muse, and guide. In his beautiful innocence, Jonathan seeks no more in paradise than he did on earth. Teach me to fly higher, faster.




         Chiang speaks slowly to Jonathan. "To fly as fast as thought, to anywhere...you must begin by knowing that you have already arrived..."




         Jonathan's salvation is at hand.




         JLS sweeps through my expanse of my soul on redemptive wings. Within his frail frame lies a giant's heart and a boundless soul. He is a feathery parable. He is love and strength. How ironic that one of the finest lessons I've ever been taught of how to be human has come from a bird?




         I've long since thrown the receipt away.

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Created May 02, 2002 at 10:32pm • Submit your own review...