I said I was going to figure out what to do with the baby’s mullet, right? That was supposed to be my “learning” thing for the week? But then Jamie left a comment about how her daughter tolerates little rubber bands just fine. And I happened to have bought a package of tiny little rubber bands in a fit of optimism sometime last fall, when Sophia had a total of twelve hairs.
And lo, I did this to my daughter.
Then I died of the cute. She will leave these things in her hair for as long as 2 hours, and she looks so sprightly and elfin and joyous that the boys and I spent all day laughing at her. Of course, eventually she discovers them there, and yanks her hair free, and it stands out in every direction, a cloud of hair that makes her look like a little bitty Einstein, except without the mustache.
Nonetheless, I felt like the mullet issue was solved-ish, and I needed something else to learn for the week. And so, apropos of nothing, I decided to do a vision board. To learn…what it is like to do a vision board. *beam*
See, I read this article in the June 2010 issue of O, the Oprah Magazine, by Martha Beck, called “The Vision Thing.” It’s about the right way to use a vision board. We’re all familiar with the concept, right? You cut out pictures of things you rilly rilly want, like a beachfront house, jewels, fancy car, handsome husband, whatever it is you want. And then you paste these picture on your vision board, and put it somewhere so you can see it, and picture yourself having those things, and then! Like magic (or magnetism, apparently) the universe HANDS YOU those things! Because the universe is just crazy for picture collages, apparently. Can’t get enough of them.
Except, according to Ms. Beck, that’s all wrong. And I’m glad, because I find the idea of that sort of venture to be fairly…embarrassing. No, instead what you’re supposed to do is assemble pictures, not of the STUFF you want, but of things that appeal to your “deep self.” And then you’re causing things to happen, because you’re setting your imagination to work, subconsciously directing you toward the vision you’ve created.
Sound woo-woo enough yet? Hey, if Joss can meditate, I can create a vision for my imagination.
Anyhow, I am lucky enough to have a stack of magazines languishing under my bed that I keep meaning to take out to the recycling bin. And when I say “a stack” I mean a foot high slippery mountain of magazines. I subscribe to something like seven different magazines, and somehow I have a hard time getting rid of them. It’s a sickness.
But it’s a sickness that served me well in this case, because I had lots of magazines to leaf through, searching for images that “trigger a physical reaction.” Pictures that make me gasp or my heart to thump. Pictures that cause a reaction that mimics a medical trauma of some sort, apparently. And so I set to work.
I leafed and I leafed and I leafed some more. Apparently my deep self was sleepy, because what I mostly felt was irritation. This was a stupid exercise. And it reminded me that I used to get Wondertime and then it went under and they replaced it with Family Fun, AS IF. Wondertime was a fabulous magazine, and there is no replacement, certainly not something that majors in recipes that begin “take a box of cake mix…” I mean, just think about the names! Would you trade WONDER for mere FUN? I think not.
Nonetheless, I managed to collect a small fistful of pictures. I don’t know if my heart thumped or my breath caught, but I liked them. It felt like a quiz to determine the quality of my soul, and that made me cranky again. I kept second-guessing my choices. When I found myself trying to justify cutting out a picture of a peony, I had to remind myself that it was MY vision board. I could put anything on it my pink little heart desired.
I don’t know if I passed the quiz, or what it’s all supposed to mean, but I dutifully cut out my pictures and glued them down. It wasn’t until I’d finished that I realized that I seem to have a thing for birds. And unattached hands. Weird.
Here it is, but before you look at my picture, you should know that I had to dig out the posterboard from under the bed, where it was stashed along with a whole stack of the kids’ artwork, and when I stuck my hand under there I thought I felt a small, dried worm. It turned out to be a twig that fell off some collage one of them had made, but still. It was traumatic. So don’t judge me too harshly. I’ve been through a lot.
Now let’s see what Martha has to say is the next step.
Oh. Next I’m supposed to forget about it. I’m supposed to just…forget about it. Basically because no one likes someone who’s desperate, not even the universe. So now I get rid of all the work I did here, go on with my life, and let what will happen, happen.
I confess, this sounds like an enormous con to me now. I mean, if you forget about it until it happens, then the only people who remember it are the people for whom it happened, right? The rest of us just wasted a perfectly good stack of outdated magazines and at least half a cent’s worth of glue.
As of this moment, I have to report that my life is unchanged. Tomorrow may be a different story, as my powerful imagination is set flight, but for tonight I’m still living the in the same world.
Although I did get a blog post out of it. And I suppose that is enough.