Jun 16, 2006

Irrelephant Has Left The Panhandle

Or at least I will have tomorrow. Tomorrow morning is official Exit Florida day, 8am, and this is the last opportunity I will have to blog, more than likely. We're about to have a seafood dinner at a superb restraunt, and afterwards is fireworks on the beach and an exquisite $12 Gurka cigar. And right now is that sort of bittersweet time where we're packing and trying to fit in the last of the shell-hunting and the sunbathing and the photography and the napping. And yes, I've become a championship napper, which bodes badly for my return to work Monday morning.

And, I've spent my week fruitlessly searching for my Unicorn. Remember the movie "Gone In Sixty Seconds"? Here's a clue-- I haven't been seeking Eleanor.

Yes, I arrived here last Saturday afternoon with dreams in my head, much like every visitor and resident no doubt, of finding a Unicorn. That'd be, of course, the much-treasured conch shell, a perfect one, a huge, perfect one, a shell the likes of which would turn any finder into a British schoolboy with dreams of power, shipwrecked on...no wait, that's been done.

So anyway, I've been seeking my Unicorn all week. And not finding it, naturally.

This morning it occurred to me that I have been going at it all wrong, which explained my lack of success. Instead of seeking, I reasoned, I had to stop seeking, and it would find me.

I remembered, you see, all those wonderful stories of my youth, all those tale-teaching parables. I remembered that if Mohammed would not go to the mountain, then the mountain must go to Mohammed. I remembered inumberable fairie stories wherein the Handsome Prince went through trials and tribulations uncountable before, finally, he won through to the Princess. I remembered that to find Zen, one must stop looking for Zen. When Sir Gawain finally gave up the desperate quest for the Holy Grail he found the very thing he was looking for, right in front of him. So, I took the hint.

This morning, my last shell-seeking morning, I decided that instead of making my morning stalk down the beach for landed goodies and then spend several hours trolling through the rising tide and the pounding surf for several hours, I would do this the Zen Way. The only way left open to me. I would find my Unicorn the proper way, the time-tested and proven way.

I found a likely spot and stood still. I stood there with my eyes open, my heart pure of lust and desire, my spirit wandering like a brown pelican soaring on the breeze overhead. I became One with the Water and the Sand and the Surf and the Little Espresso-Fueled Crabs. I centered myself, and became No Thing.

And in the course of my spiritual undertaking, I found:

  • three mountains looking for a prophet
  • enough Holy Grails to make a lovely setting for eight
  • seventeen assorted Princesses, Maids In Distress, and Ladies Needing Rescue
  • I even found four different varieties of Zen and
  • I found myself, buried waist-deep in the sand and surf, unable to extricate myself.


I didn't find my Unicorn.

Ah well. More reason to come back next year.



I thought that only pure, lilly white females could find the unicorn........ *Hum*


Nancy Dancehall said...

Better luck next time. Perhaps it will wait for you.

Four varieties of Zen, huh? John Zen, Paul Zen, George Zen and Ringo Zen?

Vulgar Wizard said...

Uhm, does that mean that tomorrow I won't have to feed the cats, feed the fish, clean the litter boxes, fight Fiona off with a broom stick while I prepare Pouch, convince Egan that mom will be home soon, glance at the untouched humming bird feeder, pick up various items knocked down by Fiona, and scrape the roof of my truck AGAIN with the limbs from your live oak?

Irrelephant said...

OGM, you might be right--could be why I brought back five Wal-Mart bags of shells but no unicorn.

Nancy, those are Beagles, not Zens.

VW, my dear helper and friend, yes, that means that if you come out tomorrow you can view my mountainous collection of freshly-washed non-unicorn shells. *S*

Caffeinated Mommy said...

I used to collect unicorn figurines when I was little. *cough* Not that that applies at all to what you were talking about.