Jonathan Livingston Seagull

“They are saying in the Flock that if you are not the Son of the Great Gull Himself”, Fletcher told Jonathan one morning after Advanced Speed Practice, “then you are a thousand years ahead of your time.”
Jonathan sighed. The price of being misunderstood he thought. They call you devil or they call you god. “What do you think, Fletch? Are we ahead of our time?”
A long silence, “Well, this kind of flying has always been here to be learned by anyone who wanted to discover it; that’s got nothing to do with time. We’re ahead of the fashion, maybe. Ahead of the way that most gulls fly.”“That’s something,” Jonathan said, rolling to glide inverted for a while. “That’s not half as bad as being ahead of our time”.
Richard Bach
Jonathan Livingston Seagull

The Seagull Speaks Creative Commons Copyright


Creative Commons License
Original work on The Seagull Speaks by Michael A Wride is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License.

Saturday, June 29, 2013

Inner Creativity

Your inner creativity needs to be expressed,
To be made manifest.

Suppress your creativity,
And you stifle your soul.

Play as children play,
Express your creativity naturally,
Spontaneously,
Then you will know pure joy.








Sunday, June 16, 2013

A Body of Thoughts


Your thoughts feelings and emotions,
Weave themselves together,
Entwined,
They form your body,
An expression of who you really are.






Wednesday, June 12, 2013

One Who Sits Alone



There is one who sits alone,
Under the tree.

It looks like he stares into the distance,
Towards the horizon.

And indeed he does,
But he also stares within.






Thursday, June 6, 2013

I Sit in Solitude



I sit in solitude on the beach,
In the silent early morning,
To listen to the stirrings of my heart,
And the voice of love,
Who whispers in my ear.

There is joy as the sun rises,
At the boundary of sea and sky,
Its light nourishing my body and soul.

And now,  
A feeling of tears welling up,
And of humble understanding.

In the silence the secrets spring forth,
Revealing themselves,
As the vortex of violet and golden light pulses and swirls at my brow,
And the white light drips down,
Filling me with the pure, blissful light of knowing,
That the Universe is alive,
And so am I.