“Always be yourself, unless you can be a unicorn, then always be a unicorn.”

It’s a phrase we see on coffee mugs and Pinterest boards, usually surrounded by glitter and pastel rainbows. It sounds easy when you’re reading it over a quiet Saturday morning brew. But on a Tuesday at 7:00 AM, when the laundry mountain is threatening a landslide and the school bags are missing, being a unicorn feels less like a lifestyle and more like a legend from a very distant land.

Did you know that unicorns are actually the national animal of Scotland? It’s a fun fact, and perhaps a bit telling. Even an entire nation decided that their symbol of strength shouldn’t be something ordinary, but something mythical—something that stands out.

Why do I like unicorns? To be honest, I have no idea. Maybe it’s the defiance of them. They don’t fit into the standard categories of the farmyard. They are horses with a little something extra—a spark that defies the mundane.

I try to be a unicorn every day. I really do.

But sometimes, that “unicorn energy” gets buried under the weight of a thousand small things. It gets lost in the spreadsheets, the grocery lists, the “what’s for dinner?” debates, and the endless search for a bigger purpose. We spend so much time answering the “why?” questions, that we forget to notice the magic in the mess.

When you’re scrubbing an oil stain off a shirt or waiting for a slow data router to connect, you don’t feel particularly mythical. You feel tired. You feel human. You feel like a regular horse just trying to get through the field without tripping.

We aim for the glitter, but life usually gives us the grit.

So, how do you actually “be” a unicorn when the world feels decidedly grey?

It isn’t about growing a literal horn or suddenly having a life that sparkles. Being a unicorn is about the “something extra” you bring to the ordinary. It’s about the decision to be kind when you’re frustrated. It’s about the choice to laugh with your son at a screaming lady at a four-way stop instead of letting her anger ruin your day.

You become a unicorn when you stop trying to be the “perfect” version of yourself and start being the real version.

• It’s the way you design a planner with love, even when you’re tired.
• It’s the way you find a white curtain hidden under a year of beige dust.
• It’s the “me time” you steal in a quiet corner while the house hums with SpongeBob and Xbox gunfire.

Being a unicorn is simply the act of holding onto your magic while you’re doing the dishes.

We are all just juggling. We are all just trying to keep the balls in the air without getting whacked by a swing-ball racket.

The purpose we’re all searching for isn’t usually waiting for us at the end of a long, arduous journey. Most of the time, it’s right there in the quiet moments. It’s in the tiny Valentine’s card with no cookie. It’s in the ten free Zumba lessons that remind you that you have a friend by your side.

I am ready to conquer the world, and I’ve realized I need a perfect schedule to do it. I just need to remember that even on the rainiest, muddiest South African Monday, I can still choose to see the magic.

I’m mounting my unicorn—imaginary or not—and I’m riding toward the mountains. Things change, people change, and sometimes we lose our spark for a moment.

But it’s never really gone. It’s just waiting for the next cup of coffee and a quiet breath.

Onwards, unicorn, we’ve got things to do and a world to conquer…