The year was 1986.
I had not long gone through a divorce that was quite harrowing and confusing.
I was a single mum to a one year old baby girl and had also not long been given a sales trainee role under sufferance, instantly recognising deep down inside, that a huge alignment piece to this jigsaw I had wanted to lay out in front of me, was missing.
And so it was during this time, browsing through a second hand book shop I came across a little book about a seagull.
And little did I know that for the next 30 years, this seagull, who went by the name of Jonathan Livingston, would become my true north, my role model and my hope, as I tentatively navigated many of my life’s challenges.
This plain and common seagull mirrored back to me so many things I felt in so many moments of uncertainty. He was:
Different.
An individual.
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