Lim Swee Heong on Reading Richard Bach's Jonathan Livingston Seagull for Practice, Curiosity and Self-Belief

Not every motivational book is long, practical or packed with research. Some of the most memorable ones are short stories that leave you with a single image to carry around. In this piece, I, Lim Swee Heong, who also writes online as bullbearnme Swee, look at Richard Bach's Jonathan Livingston Seagull, a brief allegorical fable about a seagull who cares more about learning to fly well than about fitting in, and about what readers can take from it for everyday practice, curiosity and self-belief.

What the book is

Jonathan Livingston Seagull is a novella by the American author Richard Bach. It was first published in book form in 1970 by Macmillan, with black-and-white photographs of seagulls in flight by the photographer Russell Munson. It arrived with little advertising, yet by the end of 1972 it had reached the top of bestseller lists, largely through word of mouth. A film adaptation directed by Hall Bartlett followed in 1973.

In 2014 the book was reissued as Jonathan Livingston Seagull: The Complete Edition, which added a short fourth part. Bach had written that section around the time of the original but left it unpublished for decades. So readers today may encounter two versions: the original three-part story and the complete edition with the added ending section. Both are short enough to read in an afternoon.

It is worth being clear about the category. This is fiction, specifically a fable. The main characters are birds, and the story uses flight as a symbol for learning, freedom and growth. It is often shelved with spiritual or inspirational books, and readers interpret it in quite different ways. Nothing in it is meant to be read as a factual account, and its ideas are best treated as prompts for reflection rather than instructions.

The premise, without spoilers

The basic setup can be described without giving away much. Most of the gulls in Jonathan's flock see flying simply as a way to get food. Jonathan is different: he is fascinated by flight itself, and he spends his time practising speed, control and difficult manoeuvres, often failing along the way. His focus puts him at odds with the expectations of the group around him. The rest of the book follows where that choice leads, and I will leave those developments for readers to discover. If you prefer to know nothing at all before reading, you may want to skip ahead to the section on reading habits.

Practice for its own sake

The idea most readers remember is the joy of practice. Jonathan does not practise to win a prize or impress anyone. He practises because getting better at something he loves feels meaningful. That is a refreshing message at a time when so many hobbies quickly become about metrics, followers or comparison.

For everyday life, the takeaway can be simple. Pick one skill you genuinely enjoy, whether that is cycling, cooking, a language, a musical instrument or a game, and give yourself permission to improve at it slowly and for its own sake. Notice the small improvements: a smoother gear change, a sentence that comes out naturally, a level you finally finish. The story suggests that this kind of attention to craft is a source of satisfaction in itself, not just a step towards some outside reward.

Failure as part of learning

Jonathan fails often in the story, and the book does not treat this as embarrassing. Falling, misjudging and trying again are simply part of how he learns. That framing is useful for anyone who tends to give up after a few clumsy attempts.

A practical way to apply this is to expect early attempts to be rough and to plan for them. When starting something new, set a short trial period, such as two or three weeks, during which you judge yourself only on whether you showed up and practised, not on how good the results look. This lowers the pressure and gives skill time to develop. It also helps to keep a few brief notes on what went wrong and what you might adjust next time, so that each mistake becomes information rather than discouragement.

Curiosity and limits

Another theme is curiosity about limits. Jonathan keeps asking how far he can push his abilities, and much of the story is about discovering that some limits are habits of thought rather than fixed facts. Many readers find this inspiring, and it can be a helpful nudge to question assumptions such as "I'm just not a reading person" or "I'm too old to learn this."

At the same time, it is sensible to read this theme with balance. Real people do have physical, financial and time limits, and pushing beyond them carelessly can lead to injury or burnout. The fable works best as encouragement to test assumptions gently and step by step, not as a claim that anything is possible with enough willpower. A reasonable approach is to stretch a little beyond your comfort zone, review how it went and then decide on the next step.

Belonging and independence

The book also touches on the tension between belonging to a group and following your own path. Jonathan's interests set him apart, and the story explores both the cost and the value of that independence. Without going into details, it also suggests that individual growth can eventually lead back towards helping and teaching others.

This is perhaps the most balanced lesson to draw. Independence does not have to mean rejecting other people. Many of the most rewarding forms of personal growth involve learning from mentors and, later, passing on what we have learned. If you are developing a skill, consider joining a club, class or online community where people share tips, and look for chances to help beginners once you have some experience yourself. Teaching is often one of the best ways to deepen your own understanding.

Reading it as an allegory

Because the book is a fable, much of its value lies in interpretation. Some readers see it mainly as a story about excellence and craft. Others read it in more spiritual terms, focusing on freedom and self-realisation. Some find its tone uplifting, while others find parts of it a little abstract or idealistic. All of these reactions are reasonable.

A helpful way to read allegory is to ask open questions rather than look for a single correct meaning. What does flight represent for you? Which character's attitude feels most familiar? Where in your own life do you feel pulled between expectations and curiosity? Jotting down a few answers after finishing can turn a short read into a longer period of reflection.

Building a reading habit around short books

One practical advantage of Jonathan Livingston Seagull is its length. Short books are a great way to rebuild a reading habit after a busy period, because finishing one quickly gives a sense of momentum. Here are a few ideas for making the most of a short motivational read.

First, read it in one or two sittings. A brief fable often works best when you can hold the whole story in mind at once, rather than spreading it over weeks of scattered commutes. Second, reread it after some time has passed. Short books are easy to revisit, and you may notice different things depending on what is happening in your life. Third, pair it with something more practical. After a symbolic story about practice, a nonfiction book about skill-building or habits can help translate inspiration into concrete steps. Finally, talk about it. Because people interpret fables so differently, discussing it with a friend or a book group often reveals angles you would not have considered alone.

Turning reflection into action

Inspiration fades quickly unless it connects to something you actually do. After reading, it can help to choose one small, specific action inspired by the book. That might be scheduling twenty minutes of practice for a skill you enjoy three times a week, signing up for a beginner class you have been putting off, or simply allowing yourself to be a beginner at something without worrying about how it looks.

It also helps to review that action after a few weeks. Did it fit into your routine? Did you enjoy it? Do you want to continue, adjust or try something else? Treating reflection and adjustment as a regular cycle keeps motivation grounded in real experience rather than a burst of enthusiasm after finishing a book.

Who might enjoy it

Jonathan Livingston Seagull suits readers who like short, symbolic stories and are open to a reflective, slightly spiritual tone. It can be a good choice for someone who wants a quick dose of encouragement, for students thinking about what they genuinely enjoy learning, or for anyone starting a new hobby and needing a reminder that early clumsiness is normal. Readers who prefer detailed, evidence-based advice may find it too abstract on its own, but it can still be a pleasant companion to more practical books.

Why it is worth reading

Decades after its first publication, Jonathan Livingston Seagull remains a widely recognised inspirational book, and its appeal is easy to understand. In a few short chapters it celebrates curiosity, practice and the courage to pursue what you care about, while leaving plenty of room for readers to find their own meaning. It is not a manual, and it does not need to be. Sometimes a simple image of a bird learning to fly better is enough to remind us to keep practising, keep learning and keep our curiosity alive.

If you enjoy reading reflections like this, you can find more of my writing on Medium at https://medium.com/@bullbearnmeswee

A statement from Lim Swee Heong

Related: Lim Swee Heong: Protecting Personal Information in Investment Communities

I'm Lim Swee Heong, a cloud database architect in Singapore who enjoys cycling, sightseeing, travel, reading and gaming on Nintendo Switch and PS5. I also go by bullbearnme Swee online.