Bio Moment – My Comfort Book, Vision Boards & A Wall of Dreams

Once upon a time, in the mid-1990s, I had a binder. Inside, I collected poetry, cards, photos, recipes and memories… and cut pretty pictures from magazines. Things like waterfalls and cozy bedrooms and cats. I arranged them by theme, color or size… whatever looked good to me.  Once each page was complete, I put it in a clear page-protector.

Through the years that followed, I added to it. When I was feeling blue, I worked on it. When I felt happy, I worked on it. I worked on it with my daughters, who created their own.

By the time I moved to Canada, in 2000, my “Comfort Book” weighed over 20 pounds. I know this, because I brought it with me as my carry-on… cuz… yeah, it tipped the scale on my check-in baggage.

This was all long-before Pinterest… which I SOOOOO should have created myself and made a million buck-a-roo’s… but alas… did not.

For the first five years or so after I got here, I kept working on my book. In 2003, my mom created one and we worked on them together while I was staying with my parents.

Once Pinterest got going, I stopped working on my binder. My own Pinterest page is kind of… prolific, shall we say? There for a while, I was a pinning fool.

But I kept my binder. This is the front of it, which gives you a bit of an idea how the rest is set up. It’s really quite a beautiful book, if I don’t say so myself. And yes, that’s me in opposite corners. This book is very personal.IMG_20160522_131846

Anyway, as it stands right now, there are over 200 pages – back and front.

I get very warm, fuzzy feelings when I think of how much comfort this project brought to my soul… which is why I called it my Comfort Book.

So, it might seem the end of a somewhat-interesting story… except…

There was something sacred about my comfort book. So much so, that I rarely shared it with anyone. I didn’t pull it out for friends to see and I certainly didn’t talk to strangers about it! A few cherished friends and family saw it… that’s all.

It seemed kind of logical, as much as these kinds of things can be, that I would gravitate toward Vision Boards. If you don’t know about them, you can click the link or I’ll just give you a *very short* synopsis: put your dreams on a board that you’ll see every day – you can be as creative as you wish. Look at it… pray over it… meditate… claim… whatever it is that you do… and manifest the things on the board. Well, that’s my very simplistic way of putting it, anyway.

So, I started making them. This year, I got crazy-sauce and did a wall with my board and added a bunch of pictures and ideas from magazines. I put it above my shrine area.. lots to look at and ponder over. There’s still some blank spaces on my actual board but you get the drift.IMG_0640

I’ll tell you… there is fear in sharing these things with you. Still, I’m sharing because I want you to know that I have received so much gratification, comfort and joy from my Comfort Book, Vision Boards and now, my wall. I think a lot of my readers would like to know about them and would benefit from their own, too. If it grabs at your heart or soul… DO IT. Tell me how it goes.

But … it is still very personal to me. And sharing at this level has burned me before. Once, long ago, I fell in love with the movie Shirley Valentine, about a bored housewife who accepts a gift of a trip to Greece, which changes her life. It was actually suggested to me by a therapist, during my divorce.

I shared my desire to be like Ms. Valentine with a small group of women online. I spoke of walking along the shore in my gauze dress, face kissed by the sun… jumping naked into the sea with a man who loved me for who I was. It was silly and hopelessly romantic… and it was “where I was” at the time.

I remember the email that one of the women sent me afterwards. I won’t quote it verbatim but it went something like this: “Your dream of Greece disgusts me. You in your gauze dress. What a joke! HAHA!”

One day not long after, my oldest daughter came into the bedroom with a drawing, which I saved in my comfort book. It’s me, in my gauze dress, walking by the sea. My daughter wrote: “For my mother who dreams of Greece”. God love her. GOD LOVE HER!

My book, vision board and wall… are tangible. Not hidden in a corner of cyberspace, like that email from my “friend”.

I love print media… the kind you can hold in your hands: books, newspapers and magazines. I love the entire sensory experience of it. It’s very personal… intimate, even… and yes, sacred.

These are the things that matter to me. (Not to be confused with the people, who are a whole ‘nuther level of “matter”.)

I hope this prompts you to think about the kinds of things you can touch and hold in your hands. They matter. They always have. They always will.


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