Thursday, 20th of May 2010 at 02:08:23 AM 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.
Try not to be jealous of my awesome vision. Try.
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.
Hella cool, Ki! I hope you get TONS of lions!
Oh, dangit. I really need to be more careful about these things. I don’t have ANYWHERE to put any lions. What was I THINKING?
I’ve been meaning to do one of these too – but I guess I would have done it wrong! I was collecting pictures that represented things that were meaningful to me, and things that I want to do and could do when I reach my goals. Not so much about stuff and mansions (not that I’d *mind* a diamond necklace, of course…) but something to remind me of why I’m doing what I’m doing and that the end result will be worth it. I wanted it to reflect my values and act as an encouragement to me.
So, yeah, I’m probably still going to do it wrong haha.
Also, “Because the universe is just crazy for picture collages, apparently. Can’t get enough of them.” – totally cracked me up. Nice work
I don’t think you can do a vison board wrong. As a matter of fact, I’m wishing I’d done mine your way.
Drat.
But I’m not doing another one. I’m fresh out of magazine stacks. (I think. I’m afraid to look under the bed.)
Um. Honey? What is the big orange thing in the upper right? Because from where I’m sitting it looks like a vulture wearing a ballgown, and I’m a little concerned right now.
You have inspired me to… oh, who am I kidding. If I made a vision board it would be covered with chocolate and alcohol and that would be less a vision and more a hedonistic orgy. Which is not to say I’m not terribly impressed by your efforts, because I am.
This explains a dream I had last night. Standing alone on a dark, endless prairie, I heard the Universe yell “NOOOOOO! Not another collage. I swear, if I see another collage, I am going to squash those critters flatter than a dead worm under a bed!”
Who knew the Universe could be so irritable?
What else do you have under your bed? THAT seems like an interesting project. You might find long lost relatives there. Or a cure for cancer.
I too am curious as to the orange thing in the top right corner. To me it kind of looks like an amoeba. An amoeba that also has a stencil of a dancing girl.
Also, I read your personal blog first and was not prepared for the cuteness that awaited me here. Love the pig-tails.
Okay, yeah, what’s the amoeba? I sort of agree with Mir’s “vulture in a ball gown” but it also looks like maybe that vulture ate a ballerina that we can see through a window in its neck (?) and maybe a squirrel is holding the hem of that ballgown, too.
I don’t remember vowing to learn to use hallucinogens this week, but I’m starting to wonder….
Hmmmm…..I wonder what will happen if I make a collage of Johnny Depp pix……or Alan Rickman pix…..Where, oh where are my People magazines???
Kira, be careful of the rubberbands. I just saw a story this week where a 2 year old had put one around her wrist during nap time and the mom came in to find the baby screaming with a purple hand. Not too much into scare tactics, but I thought it might be providential I saw this.
BTW, the orange blob looks like some kind of egg concoction gone bad…
but why would that be on your vision board? You want to improve your breakfast making skills???
Oh see, now I can’t let her sleep with sock on OR rubberbands in her hair (I read a story once where a baby stuffed a sock in his mouth and nearly suffocated, narrowly saved the family dog, who was sleeping under the crib and barked to alert the mom. And our dog doesn’t fit under Sophia’s bed. So. No socks OR rubberbands).
And for all of you who are wondering about the orange blob, it is clearly…um…orangeness. And everyone knows that oranges are the most energizing of all the fruits. And that no words rhyme with orange. Or purple. Or silver. Which is sort of beside the point.
Look, it’s about the depths of my SOUL here, people. You can’t be expected to understand it all.
I have some sort of block against these collages, even though I have friends who do them and many, many magazines. Can’t do it, although I do admire your actually getting one done!
I’m just sitting here lamenting Wondertime. I saved a lot of the issues and now I’m really glad. Family Fun can suck it….I call it the “guilt magazine” as in “I am a terrible mother if I don’t make cupcakes that look exactly like little stupid TURKEYS!”
I hate those soul quizzes. You have to not have sold your soul to get anything above an F. I wonder if I can trade all my old gardening magazines and art/craft magazines for a used soul somewhere. No? How about the writing magazines? Literary mags? Crud. It’s a wonder the house hasn’t tipped over from the sheer weight of paper.
Good job on your visioning, though! And if some of us can’t see what you do, our lens prescriptions are just different.
Ah Wondertime, you are sorely missed by many a mother who does not want to make cupcakes that look like Leprachaun houses. RIP.
Alas, you are also missed by mothers who can’t spell Leprechaun.