Hunting Unicorns

“You are far more complex than I realized.”

I shrug in response to the statement. “People are complex.”

“No,” he says. “People are not that complex. You are.”

But people are that complex. Every single human being that walks this earth consists of many layers, multiple facets. Whether we are lovers of fairytales who are the furthest thing from romantics (Who, me?) or admirers of magic living in an ordinary, mundane world, we are all walking contradictions. Some of us just don’t realize it yet.

Me? I’m a writer—an artist, if you will—and artists tend to delve deeper into life than most people dare to go. That doesn’t mean the others are not capable of such feats; it simply means they haven’t been curious enough to explore.

Sometimes I consider how simple my life might be if I had never left this town. I have tried (and failed) to wrap my mind around what it would be like to have gotten married right out of high school and given birth to those six kids my childhood self thought I wanted. What would I think and feel and believe had I settled for what was right in front of me and never explored the expanse of the world?

I think I could be quite happy there, in my simple life, not knowing any different. Because, you know what they say: ignorance is bliss. I, however, never afforded myself that luxury. I reached for something bigger, deeper, different.

I got a taste of the world and now I cannot go back to being a small town girl. It’s a beautiful thing; it’s a terrible thing. It’s where I am right now.

And last night, my current predicament led to a long conversation with a middle aged man about how I am a genuine, one-of-a-kind, there-is-no-one-else-even-remotely-like-me-in-the-world. Despite my protests that I am not “looking” for anyone, thank you very much, he insists that I am looking for something that does not exist. There are no such thing as unicorns, he says.

At this point in the conversation, I am still more amused than annoyed, so I smirk. “You think I should settle for a horse and just glue a piece of antler on his head?”

Herein lies the real problem with people who tell you that you need to lower the impossible standards they imagine you to have: they are never clear about where the mysterious line is drawn. What is the perfect amount of compromise? Where do my standards switch from high to impossible?

I am still trying to figure out why in the blazes that if what I want is this…

unicorn-dimensions-unicorns-17788267-1024-768

…I should have to settle for this?

grinch2bdog2bfallen2bwith2bantlers

(I’m sorry, Max, that’s not fair. I love you. You are my favorite. But you are not a unicorn or a reindeer. You are a dog—the very best of dogs. Keep being a dog.)

I’m going to be honest here. I don’t think I demand anything unreasonable out of life. I want to write books, but they don’t have to be number one bestsellers (although I obviously would not complain if they were). I want to bounce around the world for years to come and maybe have a flight experience where nothing is delayed or cancelled or otherwise complicated. And if I ever do get married, I just want it to be to someone who thinks and feels about the world the same way I do.

If I am looking, it is for someone to share in an adventure. I don’t want a small life. I don’t want safe, comfortable, or conventional. I don’t want the shallow, the superficial, or the daily grind. I want to always search bigger, dig deeper, and see beyond what most people dare to dream.

Perhaps what I want is unreasonable after all—a life lived entirely Beyond Reason. A life fully abandoned to faith. And trust. And perhaps a touch of pixie dust.

Honestly, I’ll be okay if I never find a unicorn, so long as the journey is magical.

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2 thoughts on “Hunting Unicorns

  1. I can definitely relate to this, although I feel like my struggle is somewhat opposite: I’m told that I’m too compassionate, too accommodating, and ultimately too accepting of people that are wrong for me. Somehow part of me knows that, but it’s tough to know where to draw a line because of what I saw between my parents growing up. Mom was always frustrated with Dad because he never stepped up to support and love the family (or her). And I think Dad always dug his heels in because Mom never fully accepted him for who he was; she was always trying to change him.

    Like you, I’m so tired of sitting on the sidelines and playing it safe. I did that my entire life and was constantly afraid of everything, and admittedly I do regret it. Now I’m all about experiences; both the good at perhaps at times the not-so-good. But I’m not afraid of heartbreak anymore: to me, heartbreak signifies that I took a chance and had an experience. I loved, I learned, and I grew because of it. Right now, that’s enough for me.

    Thank you for your writing!
    -Alyx

    • There is definitely a balance, and people say that when you know you know. I have never been there, but maybe one day I will be. Obviously I know that no one is perfect and I will have to make certain compromises, but I’m tired of people telling me that, if I want a relationship, I’m going to have to strap an antler to a dog’s face. That is not what I want.

      P.S. I love what you said about heartbreak. Keep putting yourself out there, girl. It’s totally worth it.

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