Rand Denny is the inspiration of the unicorn emoji. Period.
Read on about his magic and bliss.
What rocks your bliss?
What doesn’t? Truly.
It can be something as simple as a conversation with a dear friend, like a butterfly, in my backyard. They usually go something like this:
BUTTERFLY: Flutter. Flutter. (Coming closer.) Flutter. (Definitely checking me out.) Flutter. Flutter.
ME: Hi beautiful. Thanks for spending time out here with me. I know you LOVE all these flowers. I planted them for you.
BUTTERFLY: (Faster fluttering. Listening. Closer and closer.) Flutter.
ME: I love you. You know that. You know you’re safe here. Although there have been a bunch of sketchy looking bird types hanging out here today, so be on the lookout. As beautiful as those birds are, sometimes they’re up to NO GOOD.
BUTTERFLY: (Pausing on a flower, antennae moving, listening.) Flutter.
ME: I think helicopters are pretty cool, but YOU, look at you! I’M COMPLETELY IN AWE of how rad you are. I really am.
BUTTERFLY: Flutter. Flutter. Flutter.
MY HEART: Flutter. Flutter. Flutter.
And rainstorms rock my bliss. I’ll stop my car ANYWHERE to get out and let it soak me. I should have a bumper sticker made that says: Frequent Stops (when it’s raining). Or my dog, Dr. Love, she majorly rocks my bliss. ALMOST everything I know about how I should act when people I love come sniffing around, I learned from her. She’s definitely on a MUCH higher frequency than I am. But she still doesn’t mind chilling with me.
I could go on and on, but I realize the Internet is only SO big.
Describe your perfect day:
Dr. Love jumps on my bed at this time every morning and I immediately ask her: Did the sun come up again? She goes crazy (which means “Yes!”). I then reply: “Lucky us!” We then roll around licking and mauling each other until I have to pee. And so does she.
I go to my inversion table and hang upside down. 15 minutes. This is my first meditation of the day. I do it upside down because it’s harder for me to escape and bolt out the door to visit with a potato bug or flirt with the passion vine I just planted. We’re completely OBSESSED with each other.
I lie down on my back on my yoga mat, in stillness. I silently ask my body and heart what it needs today. It efficiently tells me, and that’s what we proceed to do. My asana practice can be anywhere from 20 minutes to two hours, depending on what my body or heart asks for. And sometimes it’s nothing but savasana.
Anytime in the morning:
A frozen, magical, lovely, layered Acai bowl finds its way into my hands. It has berries and hemp hearts and granola and banana slices and love and shredded coconut and almonds and fruits I have yet to discover.
Later in the day:
It rains, with MASSIVE thunder. And I’m under a blanket with all nine of my siblings on a covered porch in Utah. The rain POUNDS on the roof of the porch. We laugh until we don’t, and then we just lie there breathing in the smell of rain and mud and life.
It’s also possible that in that moment I spring from the porch to carve a boat out of a rogue cucumber that got too big for its own good. I float the cucumber down the gutter, chasing it all the way to the corner in the rain.
Anytime after that:
I take a nap. This is MANDATORY. I nap everyday, no matter what. I consider this my second true meditation of the day. It’s how I reboot my brain and integrate all the holiness my heart has already experienced.
Anytime after I wake up:
I sit with my parents (they’re both gone now, but still very much here). We have a meandering conversation (while eating homegrown, heirloom tomato sandwiches with fresh basil) about things like Redwood Trees, my grandmother’s top-secret popcorn recipe, and my theory that the ocean is actually the electrical system of the Earth. We are SO in love with each other.
Anytime after that:
I eat watermelon.
The mosquitos know that I’m not really in the mood to hang out with them, so they allow me to gather with a huge group of friends (of EVERY age) around a crackling, wood fire. The sky is black and the stars, WOW. We talk about the meaning of life, how gross the Republican Party is, and Burning Man. We do this until dancing spontaneously breaks out. Enticed by some deep house music. I don’t remember what happens after that, but it’s happy, and holy and etched in my heart. And it includes DEEP, DEEP gratitude. Always. Gratitude is part of
Share a huge goal you are rocking:
I have three:
I’m opting out of all the meaningless stories, traditions, and societal lies that seek to condition, control and numb me to the simple and sublime holiness that LITERALLY pulses around me.
I’m opting out of consumption. I LITERALLY need nothing, with the possible exception of a lifetime of homegrown, heirloom tomato sandwiches and dancing. Lots, and lots, and lots of dancing.
I’m opting out of being a pleaser. I took a WHOLE CLOSET of those T-shirts to the thrift store. I’m happy to say, they mostly don’t fit me anymore.
If you could get on a plane right now, where are you going?
I’ve abolished the quarantine on dogs and Dr. Love and I are heading off to a small farm / beach / jungle town in the Northeast corner of Australia. When we arrive we plan to plant vegetables (and our feet / paws) in the ground. We’re traveling on a one-way ticket, for now.
How do you handle setbacks?
I invite them to grab a cushion and get still with me. We hang out. We meditate. We cry sometimes. And we ask to know the lesson. Life really is incredibly simple once you decide to get clear, give up trying to steer and simply live in the beautiful, wandering flow.
Three ways you rock the self-love.
1. I’ve stopped glorifying busy. I’d like to be the President of the Underachievers Club from this point on. You woke up? AWESOME! You win!
2. Every day, while I’m brushing my teeth, I glance over at the print on my bathroom wall that says: You are enough. I silently say to myself: Damn straight!
3. I see God in EVERYONE I meet. This is the best recipe for self-love I’ve ever come across; even better than putting kale in your smoothie.
Rock on beautiful ones.
B L E S S all.