Useless Unicorn
“Trust the wait
Embrace the uncertainty.
Enjoy the beauty of becoming.
When nothing is certain, anything is possible”
A friend sent this to me recently. A few days later, another came. It was a beautiful photograph of a pink and lavender sunrise layered upon the rolling ocean, reminiscent of the glorious dawns I was privileged to see when I was a boy with my father camping and fishing on the barrier islands off the coast of Virginia. Written in black scroll across the waking sky:
What if I fall?
Oh, but my dear, what if you fly?
But I won’t fly. I never fly. Like Icarus, I yearn to fly; more times than I can count I have tried to fly. Yet, upon my memory, always the result has been disappointment and discouragement. Even when I felt I was destined- called -damn near dragged by caroling angels to the high alter to be anointed with glittering, gossamer wings, I have fallen. Fallen short. Fallen out of favor. Fallen in spirit.
Still, inspired by the sailing clouds and a will to transcend everything around me that seemed so ordinary, I did what fallen flyers do: I got up and shook it off, squeezed my eyes down to slits of irascible determination, cursed the gods for thwarting me yet again, for filling me to the brim with hopes and dreams and desire only to turn me upside down and pour every last drop of resolve out of me and send me crawling like a puling infant back to the starting line. “Wrong! Do it again!” Like a team of drunken bowlers, I have often pictured the centurions of heaven gathered in a bunch and looking down on me, laughing, belching, back-slapping each other, and clinking longneck bottles of wishful thinking as I clamored to my knees, then to my feet, and in what I felt was a righteous and pitiful rage, shook my fist at the sky and cursed every spirit within a universe of me for mocking and tormenting me.
When you are an unused messiah- the spiritual equivalent of a 30-year-old minor league baseball player who knows, knows, he should be getting noticed and called up to the big leagues yet couldn’t get the attention of the pro scouts if he squirted lighter fluid in his lap, lit it, and cooked filet mignons -you get just a tad jaded. Skeptical. You become convinced that every coincidence that happens in your life is just that: a coincidence. No miracles. No heavenly guidance. No Higher Self.
Every encouraging event that comes from seemingly nowhere and promises to lift your spirits and give you hope is actually a smiling stranger enticing you to step a little closer to the cliff’s edge to get a better view of the sky you have been promised wings to fly in— oh, the breathtaking view, the magnificent sunset! —and your spirit feels the thermal swoop up the rock face from the deep, deep canyon below. Your eyes wide as saucers, your heart pounding double-four time, your breath coming in great heaving gulps of purified air, hands and knees trembling, you shout to the endless azure expanse before you, “YES! YES! I CAN DO THIS! FINALLY, MY TIME HAS COME! I CAN DO THIS!” and just as you take that faithful last step that puts you teetering on the edge of heavenly revelation and angelic exhalation, you feel a lurching, powerful shove from behind, and like a rock of iron you plummet over the side, screaming, the nightmare coming horribly, terrifyingly real. See the hard, soulless ground rising to end you. Screaming. “GODDAMIT! IT’S HAPPENING AGAIN!”
That’s the nature of daring to believe you are anything but an ordinary pea in a giant bowl of succotash. Listen to your spirit guides, your Higher Self, your own heart, and you do so at your own peril. You risk losing your faith. Your mind. And if you are so brazen and foolish as to ever share your visions with others, your dignity and credibility.
You offer yourself up to the universe as a willing, frightened, easily persuaded messiah who has no idea what the job entails, no idea how to fulfill your duties, nor why and how this ridiculous idea got into your melon in the first place. You’re delusional. Fantasizing. Foolishly walking near the edge of a cliff with no railing and warning signs everywhere.
Then, one day, something happens. Or someone shows up. No forewarning, no rational explanation, maybe no discernible reason. Just- poof! -there. And when it’s over, you have no choice but to admit you’ve been selected, corrected, detected and infected with IT.
IT. The gift. The anointing. The universe has touched you, knighted you— like it or not, you are the prophet in your hometown. Destined to be ignored, rebuffed, mocked, ridiculed, and most of all, lonely. Useful as a unicorn.
What if you were standing in line at, say, Panda Express one evening? The line is long and slow— it’s always slow at Panda —and you know the wait is going to be a while. You take a book in hand and figure you’ll catch a few pages while you’re waiting. You glance up every now and then— what is it to be human if you’re not a little curious about your surroundings: who’s just paid and sat down, who’s at the fountain drinks, why can’t that woman in front make up her mind what she wants, who’s leaving, who’s just walked in the door —and out of the corner of your eye you notice a young man walk in through the front doors of the restaurant, take a couple of steps and then stop. He looks as if he might be reading the menu above the counter, or maybe he’s stopped to wait for a friend behind him to catch up. Who knows? Doesn’t matter. You go back to your book.
Almost ten minutes go by as the line gradually reduces, you finally get to order, and you slide your tray around the bend in the counter until you are nearly to the cash register, book closed now, plate on tray, appetite at the ready. You pay, take your receipt, start for the fountain drinks, when all at once you hear your name:
”Mr. ________!”
You turn. It’s the same young man you spotted ten minutes ago. He’s still standing where he was when you first saw him. You’re wondering why he didn’t fall in line to get food like everyone else, but that thought vaporizes immediately. None of your concern. But it’s weird; it’s as though he’s been standing there waiting for you.
You walk over to him, set your tray down on the table next to you and offer your hand. “Hey! How are you?!” The truth is, you have no idea who this person is. Could be a former student, neighbor . . . He doesn’t look even remotely familiar— usually when a former student or acquaintance comes up to you he or she looks at least somewhat familiar, though time of course changes us all. But not this time. It’s not impolite to ask, so you say, “Help me out?”
He runs his name through a garble machine so you don’t get a syllable of it, but you’re not going to embarrass either one of you by asking again, so you let it go. Didn’t catch a syllable of his name, so now you’re truly talking to a stranger— strange face, no name . . . and then he proceeds to tell you how an incident that happened between you years ago changed his life. “If you hadn’t ______________ “ he says, “I might not be standing here today. You were the only one who ever _____________.”
And for the next thirty minutes he tells you how your getting in his grill for being a junior high school smartass straightened him out for good, but not before he subsequently went through a series of boarding schools, personal and family crises, and ultimately rebounded from rock bottom to the top of his game. Literally. Says he played basketball in middle school when nothing else mattered (“Basketball saved my life.”) and now plays for a major university as a senior.
Success story. The kind you love to hear. Says you are responsible for it all turning out the way it did. If it hadn’t been for you, well . . .
Good feeling. The reluctant messiah— that’s you —came through when you didn’t even know you were working your own miracle. But the universe noticed. Sent you a disciple you didn’t recognize and couldn’t name with a very obvious and important message:
YOU HAVE AN IMPACT ON OTHERS
The questions now are:
Did you get the message?
Do you even believe in heavenly messengers?
What do you do with the message once it’s delivered?
The answer, oh Useless Unicorn, is: you FLY. You spread your wings and soar. You save the world.
One person at a time.
