Richard Bach

or the adventures of the Messiah, who did not want to be the Messiah

After Jonathan Livingston Seagull was published, I was asked more than once: “Richard, what are you going to write next? After Jonathan, what?”

I answered then that there was no need for me to write further, not a single word, and that my books had already said everything that I wanted to say with them. At one time I had to go hungry, and sell my car, and all that other stuff, so it was quite interesting that I no longer had to sit until midnight at work.

However, almost every summer I took my venerable biplane sailing over the emerald seas of the grasslands of the American Midwest, giving rides to passengers, and began to feel the same tension again - there was still something I didn't have time to say.

I don't like writing books at all. If I can only turn my back on an idea, leave it there, in the darkness, outside the threshold, then I won’t even pick up a pen.

But from time to time the front wall suddenly falls apart with a roar, showering everything around with a waterfall of glass splashes and brick chips, and someone, stepping over this debris, grabs me by the throat and gently says: “I won’t let you go until you express me in words.” and you can’t write them down on paper.” That's how I became acquainted with Illusions.

Even back in the Midwest, when I used to lie on my back and learn to clear away the clouds, this story was always in my head... what if suddenly there was someone here who was truly a master of this craft, who could tell me how my world works and how to manage it? What if I suddenly met someone so far along the path... what if a new Sidhartha or Jesus appeared in our time, having power over the illusions of this world because he knows the reality behind them? What if I could meet him, if he flew a biplane and landed in the same meadow as me? What would he say, what would he be like?

Perhaps he would not have looked like the messiah who appeared on the oil-stained and grass-stained pages of my logbook, perhaps he would not have said anything that was said in this book. However, my messiah said: we attract into our lives what we think about., and if all this is so, then there is some reason that this moment has come in my life, and in yours too. It is probably no accident that you are holding this book now; There's probably something in these adventures that made you come to this book. I think so. And I think that my messiah sits somewhere in another dimension, not at all fantastic, sees you and me and laughs contentedly from the fact that everything is happening exactly as we planned it in advance.

Richard Bach

1. And the Messiah came to this earth, and he was born on the sacred soil of Indiana, and he grew up among the mysterious hills east of Fort Wayne.

2. The Messiah became acquainted with this world in a regular school in Indiana, and then, when he grew up, he became an auto mechanic.

3. But the Messiah had other knowledge, and he received it in other lands, in other schools, in other lives that he lived. He remembered them, and this memory made him wise and strong, and others saw his strength and came to him for advice.

4. The Messiah believed that he was able to help himself and all of humanity, and according to his faith, others saw his power and came to him so that he would save them from their troubles and countless diseases.

5. The Messiah believed that everyone should consider himself a son of God, and according to his faith, the workshops and garages where he worked were crowded with those who sought his teachings and his touch, and the streets nearby were filled with those who longed only for His shadow accidentally fell on them and changed their lives.

6. And it came to pass that because of these crowds, the owners of the workshops asked the Messiah to leave his work and go his own way, for he was always so densely surrounded by the crowd that neither he nor the other mechanics simply had anywhere to repair cars.

7. And he went into the open field, and the people who followed him began to call him the Messiah and the miracle worker; and it was done to them according to their faith.

8. And if a storm occurred while he was speaking, not a single drop fell on the heads of those listening to him; and in the midst of the thunder and lightning that raged in the heavens, the one who stood farthest from him heard his words as clearly and distinctly as the one who stood closest to him. And he always spoke to them in the language of parables.

9. And he said to them: “In each of us lies hidden our willingness to accept health or illness, wealth or poverty, freedom or slavery. And only we ourselves, and no one else, can control this great power.”

10. Then a certain miller spoke and said: “It’s easy for you to say, Messiah, for no one from above shows us the true path like you, and you don’t have to earn your bread by the sweat of your brow, like us. In this world, so that to live, a person must work."

11. And the Messiah answered him: “Once upon a time, at the bottom of one large crystal river there was a village, and certain creatures lived in it.”

12. "The river flowed silently over them all - young and old, rich and poor, good and bad, flowing its own way and knowing only about its own crystalline Self."

13. And all these creatures, each in their own way, clung to the stones and thin stems of plants growing at the bottom of the river, for the ability to cling was the basis of their life, and they learned to resist the flow of the river from birth.

14. But one creature finally said: “I am tired of clinging. And although I cannot see it with my own eyes, I believe that the current knows where it is going. Now I will let go of the stone, and let it take me with it. Otherwise, I will die boredom".

15. The other creatures laughed and said: “Fool! Just let go of your stone, and your beloved current will flip you over and smack you against the stones so much that you will die faster from this than from boredom!”

16. But he did not listen to them and, taking in more air, unclenched his hands, and at the same moment the current turned him over and hit him against the stones.

17. However, the creature still did not cling to anything, and then the stream lifted it high above the bottom, and it no longer hit the stones.

18. And the creatures living down the river, to whom he was a stranger, shouted: “Look, a miracle! He is just like us, but he flies! Look, the Messiah has come to save us!”

19. And then the one who was carried by the current said: “I am the same Messiah as you. The river will joyfully free us and lift us up if we only dare to unhook ourselves from the stones. Our true destiny lies in this journey, in this brave travel."

20. But they only shouted louder: “Savior!”, still clinging to the stones, and when they looked up again, he was no longer there, and they were left alone and began to compose legends about the Savior.”

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Pocket Guide Messiah

The Book Lost in Illusions

(Reminder for the advanced soul)

Preface

The last time I saw the Messiah Pocket Guide was the day I threw it away.

I used it the way Donald taught me in Illusions: ask a question in your head, close your eyes, open the book at random, choose the right or left page, open your eyes, read the answer.

For a long time this worked flawlessly: fear was drowned in a smile, doubts scattered away from an unexpected bright insight. I was always touched and entertained by everything these pages conveyed.

And on that dark day, I once again trustingly opened the Directory. “Why did my friend Donald Shimoda, who really had something to say and whose lessons we needed so much, why, why did he have to die such a senseless death?”

I open my eyes and read the answer:

Everything in this book could be wrong.

I remember it as a flash of darkness - a sudden rage that overtook me. I turn to the Directory for help - and this is the answer?!

I launched the little book over the nameless field with such force that its pages began to rustle in fear, shuddering and turning over. She glided softly into the tall grass - I didn’t even look in that direction.

Soon I flew away and never again visited that field, lost somewhere in Iowa. The Heartless Directory, the source of unnecessary pain, is gone.

Twenty years have passed, and now a parcel comes to me by mail - through the publisher - with a book and an enclosed letter:

Dear Richard Bach, I found it while plowing my father's soybean field. On the fourth part of the field, we usually only have grass growing for hay, and my father told me how you once planted there with a guy who the locals later killed, deciding that he was a sorcerer. Subsequently, this place was plowed up, and the book was covered with earth. Although the field had been plowed and harrowed many times, no one had somehow noticed her. Despite everything, she was almost unharmed. And I thought that this is your property and, if you are still alive, it should belong to you.

There is no return address. The pages bore the imprints of my fingers, stained with the engine oil of the old Fleet, and when I fanned the book open, a handful of dust and a few dried blades of grass spilled out.

No anger. I sat over the book for a long time, surrendering to my memories.

Everything in this book could be wrong. Of course it can. But it may not turn out to be. Error or not error – it is not the book that decides. Only I can say that for me it is not a mistake. The responsibility is mine.

With a strange feeling I slowly turned over the pages. Is it possible that the same book that I once threw into the grass a long time ago has returned to me? Did it lie motionless all this time, covered with earth, OR did it change and finally become something that the future reader needs to see?

And so, closing my eyes, I once again took the book in my hands and asked:

- Dear strange mysterious volume, why did you come back to me?

I flipped through the pages for a while and then opened my eyes and read:

All people, all events in your life arise because you called them there.

What you do with them is up to you.

I smiled and decided. This time, instead of throwing the book in the trash, I decided to keep it. And I also decided not to put it in a bag and hide it away, but to give the reader the opportunity to open and leaf through it all at any convenient time. And listen to the whisper of her wisdom.

Some of the ideas found in this reference book I have expressed in other books. You will find here the words you read in Illusions, The only one, Seagull Jonathan Livingston, Beyond the Mind and in Ferret Chronicles. The life of a writer, like a reader, is made up of fiction and facts, of what almost happened, was half remembered, once dreamed... The smallest grain of our existence is a story that can be verified by someone else.

Yet fiction and reality are true friends; the only means of conveying some truths is the language of a fairy tale.

For example, Donald Shimoda, my stubborn Messiah, is a very real person. Although, as far as I know, he never had a mortal body or a voice that anyone but me could hear. And Stormy the Ferret is also real and flies her miniature vehicle in the worst storm because she believes in her mission. And Harley the Ferret, in the darkness of the night, rushes into the depths of the sea because he is saving his friend. All these heroes are real - and they give life to me.

Enough explanation. But before you take this guide home, check it out now to make sure it works.

Ask a question in your mind, please. Now close your eyes, open the book at random and choose the left or right page...

Richard Bach

The clouds are not afraid

fall into the sea

(a) cannot fall and (b) cannot drown.

However, no one

doesn't bother them

believe that with them

this can happen.

And they may be afraid

as much as they want, if they want.

The happiest,

the luckiest people

thought about suicide.

And they rejected him.

any past

how do you choose

to heal and transform

own present.

Yours the most

harsh reality -

it's just a dream

and yours are the most

fantastic dreams -

reality.

Every thing

is exactly what

that she exists

for some reason.

Baby on your table -

this is not a mystical reminder

about morning cookies;

she lies there because

what is your choice -

don't clean it up.

There are no exceptions.

Don't think that the one

who fell on you

from another dimension,

at least in something

wiser than you.

Or will he do something better?

than you could yourself.

Is man incorporeal or mortal,

One thing is important in people:

what they know.

Everyone comes here

with tool box

and a set

project documentation

to build

Your own future.

That's just

not everyone remembers

where did he put it all?

Life doesn't tell you anything, it shows you everything.

You learned something like this

that someone somewhere

needs to be remembered.

How will you communicate your knowledge to them?

Accept your fears

let them do their thing

the worst -

and cut them off when they

will try to take advantage of this.

If you don't do this -

they will start cloning themselves,

like mushrooms

will surround you on all sides

and will close the road to that life,

which one you want to choose.

Every turn you fear -

only emptiness

which is pretending

invincible underworld.

Again and again you

you will meet

new theology,

and check it every time:

- If I want to,

for this belief to enter my life?

If God

looked at you

straight into your eyes

and said:

- I command that you

I was happy in this world

as long as I live.

What would you do?

This is called “taking it on faith”;

when you agree to the rules

before you think about them,

or when you take action

because they are expected of you.

If you're careless

this will happen thousands and thousands of times

throughout your entire life.