Throughout my life I have had a bad habit of ignoring myself when a greater lesson is needed. It has taken me years to heed that little voice in my head that told to me to read this book. Long story short, from the time I could speak, think or put crayon to paper I have been a Writer and Actor. I would write small vignettes and perform them over my morning cinnamon and sugar toast (into the chrome toaster) much to the chagrin of my siblings who would yell, "Mom, she's doing it again!”
I continued acting and writing through high school and college, did stock for years, wrote and performed a one woman show here in Chicago, wrote a children's kook, a couple of screenplays and even had one 'considered' by a Boutique Agency in NY. But I never went further in pursuit of an artistic career. Fast forward. I am 51, single and my son is grown and learning to fly on his own.
I do not regret the choice to stay grounded, as it were, and do the safe financial thing in order to raise my child. In truth, though, I never feel more my true unlimited self, as Jonathan teaches, as when I am tumbling headlong at top speed into the unknown in an artistic soul's necessary flight.
Therein lies my lesson. My limitations in thinking of safety and having a responsible carrer as the only option to feed my child were just that, illusions and the limitations of my own fears, thoughts and beliefs.
I cried whilst being introduced to Johnathan. I cried for that odd-looking little red haired girl who felt the depth and breadth of herself and every possibility in every Universe each morning at breakfast. I cried for the learned limitations I unwittingly introduced to my own child. And I cried at the renewed knowledge that I would again see my mom, in a place without time, space or limitation. And finally I cry now in deepest gratitude for Richard Bach for the long overdue introduction to Jonathan Livingston Seagull.