Chasing Unicorns: Chapter 5, Unicorn Theory

Tap cover, to read.

This is the latest installation of a 27-part series, featuring my book, Chasing Unicorns. To read the previous installation, CLICK THIS LINK. For the next post in this series, CLICK THIS LINK. To start at the beginning, CLICK THIS LINK. To read the entire book at once, tap the book cover. Thanks for reading!

RECAP: In the last chapter, we learned about uniqueness, and how it affects the level of change we experience. The more unique a change, the more life and enjoyment we can derive from it. Uniqueness is the sweet spot! It’s the fulfillment of fantasy. It’s the strange and unexpected. It’s an escape from the mundane. In fact it’s an infinite amount of things, because it’s anything unpredictable or unusual.

Unicorn Theory

I’d love to describe uniqueness for you, so that you can recognize it whenever you see it, and grab hold of it and make it a part of your life. But unfortunately, uniqueness defies description. That’s because what is unique to you now will not be unique later.

Yeah, it’s a dilemma. A fucking dilemma! Uniqueness simply cannot be contained in a convenient formula, system of thought, or method of living. Uniqueness runs wild as a unicorn. It’s elusive. It’s rare. It’s constantly transforming itself. It’s even more elusive than me, when I’m trying to avoid religious people at my front door.

Spotting something unique is like spotting a unicorn. There it stands in its splendor and majesty. You can hardly believe it. So you rub your eyes, look again, and it’s gone.

Unicorn Theory

Which brings us to Unicorn Theory. Unicorn Theory states that unique experiences can be as elusive and rare as spotting a unicorn. And if you’ve ever spotted one, you’ll know what I’m talking about. Doesn’t happen very often, does it?

But when it does happen, it’s one hell of a thrill. So wouldn’t it be nice if it happened more often than once in a blue moon?

My Auto-Enjoyment Theory, in Chapter 4, asserts that life is automatically enjoyed. I believe in this theory. I think most people are automatically enjoying life, and are happy. In fact, I think you are probably happy right now, even though you’re reading this book. Now that’s some strong happiness!

And if that’s the case, why the hell did I write this book? Why am I wasting my time preaching to the choir, mailing junk mail to wrecking yards, and sending sardines to Sardinia?

And before you start guessing, it has nothing to do with the terms of any probation, requiring me to have gainful employment. Believe me, nobody is going to buy this book. There’s nothing gainful about this writing endeavor. Just don’t tell my probation officer.

I’m writing this book because I think it can be helpful to lots of people. And if so, that will make me famous. I lust for fame. I want the experience of punching out irritating paparazzi. I want to make the talk show rounds, so I can say all the politically incorrect stuff to get canceled from culture. Culture? Bah! Who needs it?

I want the name of Tippy Gnu to become a household word. Just what is a household word, anyway? Most of the words I hear around my household are of the four-letter variety. Regardless, I want that. I think it would be cool to have my name uttered in every household. Even if it replaces words like, shit, damn, or fuck, I can think of no higher honor.

If you’re happy, and you probably are, I think you can still benefit from this book. And if you aren’t happy, then I know you’ll benefit. But if you’re happy, this book can help you to be even happier. Happiness is a good thing, in my opinion. So why not get more of a good thing?

This book teaches that change produces happiness, since life is change, and life is automatically enjoyed. It also teaches that the more unique the change, the more happiness it will produce. And that’s where this book can be helpful. I’m going to show you how to increase the uniqueness of your experiences.

But there’s one problem. We must contend with Unicorn Theory. Remember, it states that unique experiences can be as elusive and rare as spotting a unicorn.

Now technically, all experiences are unique to some degree, because no two experiences are exactly the same. So this theory refers to experiences that are very unique. Unique in a standout way. The kind of experiences that leave you feeling thrilled, intrigued, fascinated, or otherwise very happy.

When I wrote the Unicorn Theory, I wrote it with the attitude of a Philadelphia lawyer. I was being slick and sly. So check the theory out again, and read it carefully. Note my use of the word, “can,” when I say, “unique experiences can be as elusive and rare as spotting a unicorn.” Consider that it doesn’t say “are.” Yeah, clever of me, huh?

Now I have an out. What I mean by all this slick bafflegab is, that unique experiences CAN be elusive and rare, but they don’t have to be. If you know how to search for unique experiences, then they can occur fairly often.

In other words, you have to know how to hunt unicorns (using unicorns as a metaphor for unique experiences), before you can spot them frequently. And after you learn the skill of the hunt, you’ll find yourself surrounded by these magical creatures. They won’t be so elusive and rare, after all. In fact, you’ll have so many unicorns around you, with their horns up your ass, that you won’t quite know what to do with them all.

It’s important to note that everybody catches a unicorn now and them. Life has enough odd twists and turns to allow these one-horned critters to make occasional appearances in anyone’s life, just by chance.

But what I’m going to show is how to increase the odds, so that you’ll catch more than you’ll likely ever capture by depending upon pure, blind luck.

First, I’m going to reveal some rather obvious strategies. Conventional stuff you’ve probably already thought of. Then I’ll unveil an unconventional strategy. The unconventional strategy is not so obvious. It’s a secret weapon for hunting unicorns that is more effective than any nightscope, fancy bait, or unicorn whistle ever invented.

With the conventional, obvious strategy, you’re chasing unicorns. With the unconventional, not so obvious strategy, you’re tracking the path of unicorns, and discovering where they come from. It’s a mystical, magical, meditative path, which we’ll get to soon.

But first, let’s learn how to chase the unicorns that have already made it down that path.

[Go out and buy some running shoes. Tomorrow you’ll be chasing one-horned creatures all over fucking hell.]


27 replies »

  1. Right when you spot the Unicorn in the room they disappear…
    I’m going to purchase a great pair of sneakers… so the Unicorn can’t hear me coming…
    I don’t want to capture the Unicorn just closely observe its unique and magical qualities! 😆🤣😂

    Liked by 2 people

  2. Yes, I am smiling, your book is working. LOL!
    I do believe I am surrounded by uniqueness, certain bloggers I know are extra unique! 🙂
    Ready to know about the magical path, is there a cowbell along the path?

    Liked by 1 person

  3. Sitting in the late night quiet… excepting the fan trying to compensate for no A/C in the love shack… I just finished reading the book that I lifted from your shop. Ironically, I found it rather… up-lifting.

    This comment started getting stupid long, so I’ll leave it for a later edit. But since I don’t see a unicorn at the bottom of the following article, I’ll leave a link (replace the “[DOT]”):

    Liked by 1 person

    • And there’s something schizo going on with your “follow” button. I haven’t touched it in more than a week since committing unicorniks to a bookmark. But I suddenly received a notification for this post, and your page said that I was “following” you when I opened it. Now, after posting the comment above, the “Follow” button is just… gone! FYI, I browse in Vivaldi on this computer. Maybe some weird interaction with a script?

      Liked by 1 person

      • I’m not familiar with the Vivaldi browser, but you may be onto something. Perhaps it’s your browser. I use three different browsers, one of which automatically logs me onto WP. If I happen to use a different browser for WP, I find myself unable to comment, and puzzled for a few moments, until I realize what’s going on. Computers have a way of keeping us on our toes.

        Liked by 1 person

    • Thanks for reading the book. I wanted it to be up-lifting, so I feel encouraged hearing that it had that effect on you.

      I read your post. Your discussion of Zen seems very familiar to me. Back about 20+ years ago, I was much more into Buddhism than I am now. I read most anything I could get my hands on, including much of the Pali Canon. Whenever Wisdom Publications came out with a new translation of one of the Nikayas from the Sutta Pitaka, I was one of the first to place an order and to study the tome, cover-to-cover.

      And I read other material, from Tibetan, to Zen, to Pure Land. I became kind of a self-styled scholar of Buddhism. But I also practiced, and settled upon a hybrid of Theravadan and Soto Zen style of meditative practice.

      But I like what you say about Rinzai Zen, related to koans. I agree that life presents us with many natural koans. We don’t have to contemplate the sound of one hand clapping. There are plenty of natural enigmas to unriddle. So in a sense, maybe I’ve practiced Rinzai, also.

      I’ve always interpreted the “kill the Buddha” advise to mean that once you find an approach to meditation you feel confident in, you can disregard everything you’ve learned about Buddhism. Kill the Buddha and go your own way. That’s what I eventually did.

      Liked by 1 person

      • I agree entirely with your interpretation of “kill the Buddha”. My father used to say (and I know this is taken from some text), to “leave the boat behind after having reached the shore”. I have a brutally honest, analytical personality, however. And the “koan” such a personality tends to ruminate upon will inevitably result in an existential” crisis of nihilism”… something that people who are able to accept religious beliefs can’t comprehend. For me, it was at least comforting that so many philosophers have wrestled with this same thing, so that was what I read. Regardless, it’s an experiential problem.

        My initiation arose from shooting archery competitively for several years while I was in college – a 42-lb recurve (like you’ll see in the Olympics…. not sure I could even string it anymore.) The focus is intense. And one year when I was starting to really do well, I was practicing for about 10/12-hrs a week. After describing to my coach an odd sort of lasting “concern-less” experience bleeding into my consciousness, she handed me a copy of Zen in the Art of Archery. I still have it. And then… I broke my right shoulder.

        Later in my life, again looking for the experience, I practiced Rinzai for a couple of years. But while I found it good for my sense of self-discipline, I never quite encountered that archery experience. But I have while running.

        Thailand exposed me to Theravada. I found the religious dogma to be beautiful, but not something I could internalize. Still, the environment was a great help with regard to letting go of some of the social dogma of Capitalism (with a capital “C”). There was an instant when I was just sitting, watching the goings on near a morning market in the mountains near Burma when I suddenly had an archery moment.

        My analytical nature, and some things I can’t talk about here, lead me to think that I have an idea of what’s going on with regard to the brain. But it still doesn’t explain the actual nature of the “experience” itself. I’m inclined to think that the human mind just has so much of perception wrapped up in circles of definitions that the experiences themselves becomes hidden almost entirely behind the frosted glass of an endless dialogue of symbols. Just an instant of direct experience is like actually stepping through the window. But it requires somehow turning-off that dialogue of interpretations.

        Liked by 1 person

        • What an interesting path you’ve taken, through shooting arrows, to southeast Asia, to donning running shoes. I like how you describe your experiences as stepping through a frosted window.

          I understand how our habitual perceptions seem to get in the way of these experiences, making them rare and brief. But also, I don’t think we could function if such experiences became the norm. I suspect we need the dilusion of all that symbolic thinking, in order to get anything accomplished.

          Liked by 1 person

          • I suspect we need the delusion of all that symbolic thinking, in order to get anything accomplished.
            Absolutely. This is the source of human evolutionary success… it gives us the ability to evaluate, to plan ahead, and to store information. It’s the source of human evolutionary success. But it also separates us from the reality of our own existence. And for those who invest too much of their lives in the symbols, it can result in an existential crisis.

            Not many dogs have built their own dog-houses. But they also don’t often step off a cliff after ruminating for too long on the meaning of life or why they even exist.

            Liked by 1 person

  4. you better be careful; people may start stalking you to catch a glimpse of the amazing Tippy; after a while, the happiness of that will start to fade away.

    and after reading this post, I think I know where the title of your blog comes from…

    Liked by 3 people

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