My Vision

I've always been one of "those" people. You know the ones... the people who make lists and set goals and check things off. Making new year's resolutions has always been something I enjoy and, more often than not, I'm successful at meeting the challenges I set. Seeing things in black and white inspires and motivates me and I love tracking my progress throughout the year. 

You would think with having a pretty good track record, I wouldn't change it up but this year I am. I heard such good things from people who make vision boards that I decided to give it a try. Essentially, a vision board is a collage of pictures, quotations, and/or artwork that depicts what you would like to see for yourself in the future. It's a way to visualize the life you want a little more clearly than just what might be rattling around in your mind.

I've seen some people make a vision board that looks more like a letter to Santa, with pictures of houses and cars and boats and jewelry, etc. but that really isn't a vision board. It's broader and deeper than material things, at least in my mind.

To make my board, I sat down with a stack of magazines, a pair of scissors and an open mind. I didn't turn pages looking for anything, I just collected everything that spoke to me in that moment. I cut out pictures, phrases, slogans and sometimes just things in a particular color I liked. By the time I was through, I had quite an assortment of clippings.

The next step was to try to sort them into categories or themes. As it turned out, I had a lot of photos of women running or in yoga poses, beautiful pictures of colorful fruits, vegetables and grains (one of my magazines was a vegetarian food magazine), and one amazing photo of a woman lying in a hammock overlooking the ocean. It was evident that if those healthy and relaxing pictures spoke to me so strongly from the magazines that a healthy lifestyle is something I envision and want to incorporate even more into my life. 

I found two other pretty significant themes and one sub-theme in the photos I collected. Most of it wasn't too shocking, one of them was. Overall though, I think I learned more about myself in just those few hours than I ever would have sitting down to write out resolutions. 

After selecting my favorites from the photos I had, I glued them in a collage on a piece of poster board and hung it up in my den. I've looked at it every day since, sometimes taking it all in, sometimes focusing on a single area. Just to make sure I don't forget about it, I took a photo of the vision board and am using that as the wallpaper on my cell phone, too. It's there in front of me each of the 348 times a day I check my email, texts or Twitter. 

Whether I'm as successful in achieving my vision as I was with achieving my goals is yet to be seen. I learned a lot about me from the exercise of creating it so that was amazing and I have to admit, I thoroughly enjoyed the arts-n-crafts process of cutting, gluing and collaging. I don't make enough time for things like that so that was good for me, too.

Now, to see how 2011 unfolds... 

My Story

I was talking to someone a few weeks ago about the dreams we have for our lives and we were visualizing the future when he turned the conversation around and wanted to know what I believed my story to be. Each of us has a story that we tell ourselves and it has a lot to do with our happiness and ability to successfully achieve our goals.

Examples of the stories we tell ourselves are things like: I'm always late. I can never remember names. I am no good at math. I never fit in. 

So, as he sat there patiently, I took a deep breath and told my story. 

I am no good at socializing in large groups. I'm book smart but have no common sense. I am too quiet and reserved. I'm a klutz. I think too much. I'm not spontaneous enough. I'm no fun. 

He sat there for a minute, took my hand and asked me what the rest of my story was. I wasn't sure what he meant, wasn't that enough? He prompted me with, "You're the one everyone relies on. You're the organized one." Oh, yeah. Funny, I didn't even think about that aspect of my story. I don't tend to remember or believe the positive things about myself but man, those negative things jumped right out.

He asked me how my story was written. Part of it I could remember. Incidents from childhood, school years... but some I couldn't remember. It just always was. He said he would bet that most, if not all, my story was written by other people. One witnessed incident, one thoughtless nickname or joking insult, and the next thing you know, you're carrying the weight of someone else's reality for you. 

Then he told me to forget that story. I could change my story to be whatever I wanted it to be. The important thing to remember was, The Story always comes before The Reality. 

By the end of the day, I had rewritten my story. I'm proud to say I know exactly when and by whom my story was written now. I'm living a new story, in a new reality, and nowhere in it am I a klutz. 

What's your story? 

Jumbled

My brain feels like the junk drawer we all have in our kitchens. There are a multitude of interesting and silly and misplaced and memorable things jumbled up in there, but I can't get a single idea untangled from the rest to examine it and write a proper post about it.

I want to pull each of them out, one by one, and let you hold them while I tell you the stories of how they came to be but I don't know that I'm ready. Just know that many wonderful things are happening, beautiful people are in my life and all is good. 

For the first time in... five years, maybe?... I feel something deep within that is letting me know that I am just where I need to be, doing exactly what I should be doing. I know without a doubt that things are going to turn out better than I've even dreamed. For the first time in my life, I can say the words, "I am enough," and not only mean them but own them. 

I feel like me again. 

It is all very good. 

Here Again

Like last summer's favorite t-shirt from my dresser drawer, I reach into the darkest corner of my emotions and pull out something familiar. I sniff the lingering scent of the last time I wore it and my nose crinkles, my face distorts. I put it on, over and around me, feeling the weight of it on my shoulders. It instantly brings me down.

Unlike well-worn cotton, this feels scratchy and stiff. It used to be comfortable but something has happened since the last time. Something has changed. I have changed. Rather than feeling like this is an old friend, an emotional wardrobe staple, I view it as something I never wanted to wear again. 

And yet, I have it on.

I vow to only wear it until I find something new. Something that fits the new me. I want something that is as soft and gauzy, light and delicate as my dreams. Something that holds none of the emotional remnants of past seasons. 

I am looking for something that will soon feel as easy and comfortable as last summer's favorite t-shirt.

Life, Take Two

Sometimes I think the whole Witness Protection thing would be great. I like the idea of moving to a place where I don't know anyone, nobody knows me and being able to start over with a new identity. I could be whoever I wanted to be. My past would no longer exist and I could work toward the future from a brand new vantage point. 

A clean slate.

A fresh start.

A life do-over.

Yes, I quite like the sound of that.

Last One Standing

The reason I started the New Endings website was to capture this part of my life, in which I feel poised to make some significant changes. I have dreams and goals that haunt me day and night and I am desperately trying to determine what steps I need to take next in order to realize them. I have had the tough discussions with myself about what I am willing to do, how much I am willing to sacrifice, to what extent I am willing to go and I feel like I am on the verge of something pretty wonderful.

Except.

I am still at the starting gate. I have magnificent sketches of the future in my mind but no concrete foundations yet on which to build it. Last year, I identified two things I considered to be obstacles to reaching my goals and I have been working diligently on them. I am proud of the work I have done and can honestly say that I do not feel either is a roadblock any longer. Can I still improve? Yes, but nothing feels like it is standing in my way. Progress!

Except. 

I am still here. The way is clear but I have not yet moved forward. I have been frustrated and fretting over this for months. I waffle between 'I'll know when it is the right time' and 'Nothing is ever going to change.' I have been looking at opportunities, pursuing options, knocking on doors but I do not seem to be making the strides I want to be. It is clear that there must be one obstacle left.

So I have done what I probably should have done months ago (but maybe it was not the right time?) and have enrolled in a course with a life coach. The entire course is four eight-week sessions and the first starts in September. I am really looking forward to it. Some of you might think this is silly or misguided and that is your opinion to have. For me, I think this could be exactly what I need. It is not because I need someone else to say my feelings are valid, my goals are attainable, that I am worthy of what I work diligently to obtain because I have a multitude of loved ones who will do that for me. I am more interested in learning how and why I am standing in my own way. 

I am the last obstacle.

Stepping Stones

Sometimes traveling through life appears to me as crossing a river. I am on one bank of the river, watching the water flow by, and I know I need to get to the other side. Some days I want to go, some days I question it, but I know that is the direction I must travel. The bank I am on is fine, resplendent with trees of security, flowers of familiarity and the green grass of status quo. It is fine. Only fine.

I can barely see the other side of the river but I just know it is lush. I have heard stories about the majestic mountains of purpose, lakes of adventure and amazing waterfalls of joy. I want to see it. I have to cross the river.

Ah, crossing the river... that risky period of time in which I will no longer be safely on one bank or the other. 

If I give into temptation and look back as I am crossing, I could lose my footing and fall in the river. The current may carry me so far away that I never reach that part of the bank that I was trying for and I would never be able to go back to the bank I knew. These are the risks. My instinct tells me to keep my eye on the far shore, focused and honed in, but I know I will be tempted to turn for one last look at what I am leaving.

The safest and most sure route seems to be a direct one, on a solid footbridge that crosses the river where it is most narrow and the water runs most calmly. I have searched out that footbridge for months. I do not believe it exists, if it ever did.

What I have found are stepping stones, slippery and precarious, barely visible beneath the water flowing over them. I have attempted a few times to cross but every time I get a few feet across, I cannot find the next stone in the path and have to return the way I came. I am getting frustrated and weary. All I want is to cross that river and get to the other bank. I do not mind getting wet. I do not mind it taking longer than I thought it would.

I just want to cross.

Glimpses Through the Window

I was sitting at my desk, staring out into the sunlit backyard, when I had a vision of another life. It was as though it was playing on a hidden screen hanging from the trees and I was watching it like I would a film. I could see me, with time enough in my day for writing, running, friends and love. I saw myself pursuing a career that brought me great fulfillment and a sense of purpose. I was smiling as if my heart contained nothing but joy.

I closed my eyes for only a moment and the vision disappeared. 

Part of me ached to run into the backyard and find the vision, jump into the screen and be transported to that life. Part of me, the part that closed my eyes and caused it to disappear, hung back, afraid to get too close.

What is it about us that causes us to cling to that which is familiar even if we can see that by letting go, trying something new, pursuing our dreams, we may be so much happier? 

Why did I close my eyes?

I No Longer See It

From the time I was very young, I have always lived in two worlds, the one here with the rest of you and the one I had built inside my head. The world inside changed over the years, as I grew and matured and experienced new things, but one thing was constant. There was always a hallway with a door at the end and I would sneak down that hallway from time to time and kneel at that door to peek through the keyhole. What I saw inside was my future.

I have always had a vision of my future, I suppose because I have always had goals and dreams and some idea of the direction I wanted to take. I do not remember what was behind that door when I was very young, probably something to do with living amongst hundreds of kittens and ponies or something. From my teenaged years, behind that door was a life in the city. If you could squeeze in my mind with me, I would give you a tour of my apartment with the exposed brick walls and the loft bedroom and the wide plank floors, the color of dark golden honey. It is as clear to me as the room I am sitting in. 

In my thirties, that apartment morphed into a stone cottage on a mountain, overlooking a lake. Again, every detail of that home is imprinted on my mind, from the butterscotch leather comfy chair in the corner of the cozy living room to the little purple wildflowers growing by the door and the towering evergreen pines all around. I could see myself at a large wooden desk in the den, drinking tea, watching the sunrise, and writing novels.

It was all so clear.

This weekend I stole down that hallway in my mind to take a peek through the keyhole in that door again. I looked but I could not see anything. I pulled back, cleaned my glasses and tried again. I squinted. There was nothing to see.

I have been analyzing that now for hours on end. What does it mean? Where did my future go? If I try really hard, the farthest I can see into the future is maybe... Thursday. Why? What happened?

Is it because I have not one goal now but many? Is it because each dream I hold for myself is independent yet intertwined with the others so that any of them could come true on their own or together as one and that leaves my future just too unpredictable? 

I do not know. 

I refuse to believe that because I did not see anything that means there is nothing there. Instead, I want to believe that there is a dark, thick, velvet curtain hanging over the inside of the door obstructing my view. If I were to kneel at the door again and put my ear, rather than my eye, to the keyhole, maybe I would hear movement, construction noises perhaps, meaning my future is being built even as I think about it.

But I did not put my ear to the door and listen. Instead I turned away from the door and left. I guess I am not yet ready to know.