“What the caterpillar calls the end of the world, the master calls a butterfly.”
“Here is the test to find whether your mission on Earth is finished: if you’re alive, it isn’t.” – Illusions
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I was in high school when I first became a Richard Bach fan. My father, who was an amateur pilot until he had kids and my mother put her foot down, viewed flight itself through the goggles of a romantic. No surprise, then, that a copy of Bach’s Jonathan Livingston Seagull was always floating around our house. Not that I ever had a desire to read it, mind you. What boy ever rushes to the book his parents tell him he really, really should read? My introduction to Bach would come by way of his second best-seller, Illusions.
I remember that my initial interest in Illusions was the recommendation of a friend, but I can’t for the life of me remember who that friend was. I do remember, however, reading the entire book in one afternoon. After I finished it, I sat and thought about it for a while; then I picked it up and read it again before going to bed. It wasn’t long after that day that I picked up Jonathan Livingston Seagull. Both books joined that small canon of writings that, as a child and teenager, touched me in a way I can best describe as spiritual: Where the Red Fern Grows, The Phantom Tollbooth, The Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man, and the Dr. Seuss short The Pale Green Pants (with Nobody Inside Them).
Both Illusions and Seagull are, in a way, the same story told from different perspectives. In each, a relatively shy member of a community finds a level of transcendent wisdom through the metaphor of flight. In each, the sheer joy of that wisdom – along with the everyday and extraordinary miracles that follow – become a source of inspiration for that community. And of course in each, that same community becomes terrified of the implications of that wisdom, and martyrs their source of salvation. The parallels to a certain Jewish carpenter are obvious, but in both Illusions and Seagull, Bach is careful to note that it is our humanity that allows us to soar if we so choose, not divine intervention or permission. As Jonathan Seagull himself notes, “The price of being misunderstood [is] they call you devil or they call you god.”
I brought both books with me to college. When they saw them on my bookshelf, those older “intellectual” students I so wished to impress chastised me greatly. As is the fate of all bestsellers in any medium, it turned out that the coffeehouse set had both judged and condemned the works of Richard Bach. Did I not see that Bach’s message of hope was a slap in the face to those suffering without hope in the third-world? Did I not see that Bach was perpetuating the bourgeoisie myth that divine wisdom comes from white males in capitalist societies? I believe the word “hegemony” was used. To my shame, the desire to be seen as intelligent won over the desire to be intelligent. Midway through my freshman year as I was scrambling for cash to help pay for beer and pizza, I decided to kill two gulls with one stone and sold Illusions and Seagull to Smith Family Books, our campus’s big used bookstore.
And then… well, you know. Life went on. I wrapped up school, joined the rat race, got married, had kids and raised ‘em. And I never really thought about Illusions, Jonathan Livingston Seagull or Richard Bach again. Until this morning.
Yesterday Richard Bach was involved in a serious plane crash in Washington, en route to San Juan Island. It looks as though he will survive, but whether or not the now 76-year old writer will be able to fly again is a different story. I’m far, far older now than I was when I last read his books, and as I remember them I do so with an eye toward the craft of Bach’s writing. It’s clear that for him, the ability to fly was the spiritual engine that drove his art. The thought that his last years might be spent knowing that he is grounded, those visions of controlling his own destiny in the sky becoming a fading memory… Well, it makes me want to cry.
“Overcome space, and all we have left is Here. Overcome time, and all we have left is Now. And in the middle of Here and Now, don’t you think that we might see each other once or twice?” – Jonathan Livingston Seagull
I’ll be going to my local bookstore today, to pick up a copy of both Illusions and Jonathan Livingston Seagull. I’ll probably read them both before I go to sleep this evening. Maybe they’ll reach out and grab me again, and maybe this time I won’t give them the chance to let go. Or maybe they’ll be old and tired, the paperback version of revisiting the musical styling of Gary Numan; maybe I’m too old and jaded now to again fall in love with their charm. Maybe I’ll do what my father did with me, and encourage my boys over and over to “just give them a chance.” Or maybe I’ll play it cool, and tell them the books are too adult and that they are forbidden – forbidden! – to read them, and then wait for the inevitable.
Maybe. We’ll see.
It’s Sunday morning, and I’m ready to soar.
Fly!Report
Also consider picking up a copy of Jonathan Segal Chicken, the story of a Jewish chicken who thinks there must be more to life than ending up as soup.Report
As a private instrument rated pilot (flew jets for a while, too) I too gave it up after getting married/having a child (dangerous and expensive hobby.) Miss it a great deal. Would like to get back into it but age and health is not gonna make that easy. Still, the joy of flight at night over the clouds with a sky blazing with stars is a slight … a seeing a great thunderstorm reaching towards space as you pass by in the night is also ‘up there’ for seeing nature’s good side (illness being its bad side … .) Still, can’t say it added any enlightenment but it did require developing a degree of responsibility that most people, I think, do not want to deal with (especially heavy weather flying – that is a joy very few ever experience even among pilots but a zero-zero landing using analog instruments is an experience that cannot be imagined.)Report
I too read and enjoyed both books in my youth. I haven’t thought about them in decades. I need to see of I still have them in the basement, or if I need to order new copies.
I guess surfing became my flight.
Thanks for the reminder and flash back. I am sorry it comes along with bad news for Bach.
Btw, I have similar fond memories of Pirsig’s popular (pop) philosophy.Report
Thank you for saying what I wanted to say.
The friends I lost as life became more ‘real’ have never really left me it seems.
“The mark of your ignorance is the depth of your belief in injustice and tragedy. What the caterpillar calls the end of the world, the master calls a butterfly”Report
I was supposed to do an angel flight today with my friend but it got cancelled. He flies 747 for a living but loves to take the “little” guy out. The vagaries of modern life have made it that he can’t really afford to fly the plane for fun, but it /is/ worth it to fly patients around for a good cause and take the tax deduction. Since I volunteer my time as co-pilot, he gets to deduct my “cost” from his taxes as a “mission assistant”. Aviation fuel at $6/gal and burning 20+ gal per hour (not counting maintenance, insurance and other expenses) makes flying a very expensive hobby indeed. Still a blast however, just to be up there with the angels.
Another good book about flying was written by Jimmy Buffet. More than just flying of course, an easy day read “A Pirate Looks at 50”. Chatty but fun, probably find it for 50 cents at a used bookstore.
Cermet, have you seen the “green flash” at sunset or sunrise? Beautiful but no way I could ever be quick enough to take the picture. I’ve never done a zero-zero with steam gauges, luckily my friend’s planes have always had excellent instruments including the best GPS since they were first available. IFR nother story, been there done that.
While I was a student pilot I was landing in mountain resort town with a poorly situated airstrip that had one hellacious crosswind worse than this. I’ve got the rudder jammed about through the floor and am crabbing in until I’m literally 10 feet off the ground. My friend and CFI is sitting there with his arms crossed like he hasn’t a care in the world, even though the plane is bouncing like crazy and I’m 35 degrees out of phase with the runway bringing it down. I say, “I can’t do this” and he uncrosses his arms, grabs the controls and sets us down pretty as you please. He said, “I’ve trained pilots in the air force and civilian and you were bringing the plane down perfectly, better than any student I’ve ever seen in these condition, why did you give up?”. I said, “All I could picture was me doing a ground loop”. He thought that was pretty funny and signed me off for solo that day.
For the non pilots of small planes, it looks a little like this video.Report
Naturally, you’ll have to let us know if they grab as they did when you were younger.Report
yes pleaseReport