Do Vision Boards Work?
This post is a rough transcript of my video on this same topic. If you’d rather watch than read, you can do so here.
Way back at the start of 2021, I made a vision board. My first vision board. And not only was it the first time I made a vision board, but the making of it was my very first YouTube video.
The act of making a vision board, of putting your dreams and desires into tangible form, is an act of trust in the universe. It’s not easy to say what you want out loud in the first place…and then to share it with anyone at all feels uniquely vulnerable.
My board was a picture of a life that could be—one that balanced quiet moments at home with transcendent travel experiences and warm community.
A year later, the collage is smudged and battered…and so am I. There were eight months in 2021 before Kevin was diagnosed with cancer, but these last four loom larger. There were no hospital waiting rooms on my vision board, no plastic-tubed medical devices, no baskets full of prescription bottles. I didn’t ask the universe for any of that. I asked for centering and peace and simple pleasures.
But does my life look any more like this vision board than it did one year ago?
Maybe.
The world didn’t return to normal the way we’d hoped it would in 2021, and our lives, in particular, may never completely return to normal, but we did share meals with friends and family this year. And we did travel, driving the length of the west coast from here in Los Angeles all the way to Seattle.
We didn’t soak in any hot springs this year. I wish there had been hot springs. I always wish for hot springs.
But does any of that mean that the vision board worked? Or that it didn’t?
This is what I’ve come to: starting the year with this exercise provided me with an image of how my year could look, not how it was going to look or how it was guaranteed to look or how I would manifest it to look. It provided me with a snapshot of a daydream of the things I wanted most to embrace in an uncertain future.
The vision board crystallized my values and desires, at least as they stood at that particular point in time, and provided a representation I could return to, as the year progressed, to re-center and refocus myself in that direction. And I did return to it. Sometimes, that was painful, as things didn’t turn out the way I had hoped. Sometimes, it brought feelings of guilt and shame, as my priorities changed dramatically from where they started. We are humans, living in an imperfect and ever-changing world. A year can be a long time for our desires and circumstances. It was for mine.
More often than not, though, when I returned to this collage, it continued feeling right. This is an advantage images have over words—and I say this as a die-hard word person. If I had written a list starting with something like, “I want to install colorful tiles in my bathroom,” that would have been much less open to interpretation than cutting out photos of beautiful tiles and sprinkling them here and there across my vision board.
When I look at those now, I see myself welcoming more color into my life, embracing the history and multiculturalism of Los Angeles. I see myself honoring the place I am now, learning to fall in love with southern California and find my place in it.
I also see something unexpected.
A few weeks ago, I did a creativity exercise that led me to something I think of as my “muse home.” I created a mental meditation space for solace and inspiration…and that space looks an awful lot like this vision board.
That, more than anything, tells me that yes, the vision board “worked.” It didn’t influence the future or allow me to manifest certain outcomes, but I didn’t expect that. What it did do is reveal some truths about my life, my wants, and my needs that remained valuable over the course of the year. It provided insight and direction in a more malleable form than a goal list or a journal entry. And it was nice to look at. I mean…even now, it still makes me happy.
Will I make another for 2022?
Yeah, I think I will. Stay tuned for that.
