Creating a Digital Vision Board to Inspire Your Travel Dreams
Happy New Year! Today’s guest post is authored by Brittany Taylor over at SimpleLivingandTravel.com. It's about creating a place where your dreams are represented visually so you have a daily, hourly reminder of what's important to you. Many of you have written to ask how to overcome obstacles to traveling the world. Well, if you have your travel dreams in front of you all the time, your mind will start coming up with solutions even while you are working on other things. (Originally published in 2015.)
So many of us want to travel.
We dream of it while we are at work, going weak in the knees as we scroll through images of dream vacations in tropical paradise, clutching our warm mug in the dead of a northern winter. We fight reality while denying ourselves the dreams that linger deep within our hearts. Or at least that is what I used to do. Then, I decided to start living my dreams.
One amazing thing I discovered while on my journey to dream-realization was about creating vision boards. When I started indulging in vision board creation, I not only learned about the power of images, but I also started to view imagination in a whole new light. I realized that in my focusing on what I wanted, I had the choice to either allow myself to sink into a feeling of lack, concentrating on what I did not yet have, or I could embody the emotions I would feel if I had what I wanted and really indulge in my fantasy. I chose the latter and I decided to consciously start indulging in my dreams on a daily basis.
Images can be truly powerful. We have all experienced how a picture can be worth a thousand words, or how an image can be scarred into our memory. We can harness that power and use it to our benefit.The idea behind creating a vision board is to put together a collection of images that inspires us. We can then keep that
vision board somewhere close by so that you will see it regularly, thus activating those awesome emotions those images bring to us.
How to Do It
There are so many ways to go about creating a vision board. There is the old school way of gathering magazines and sitting around sifting and clipping. And there is the new age way of going digital and harnessing the power of the net. I prefer going digital because it doesn’t take up the physical space in my life and because I can usually find the exact image I know will bring me ultimate inspiration (and in much less time at that).
As far as the subject matter of a vision board goes, this too can vary greatly. It may feel good to just do a general board, hitting on various areas of our lives, or we may want to hone in on a topic, like our physical health, our living space, or our professional life.
For the sake of this piece, let’s hone in on creating a digital vision board that specifically pertains to travel. We want to travel. Nearly all of us want it so badly that if someone asks us where we want to go we already have a place in mind. Some of us have lists. Some of us have lifetimes of it planned. How about we make that a reality?
When to Create
There’s no wrong way to create a vision board, but the timing is important. It’s important to be in the right frame of mind when going into vision board mode. Perhaps you will find yourself inspired and ready to go. Or you may need to do some work to get there. Take a few minutes to clear your mind, to breathe and just be. Do some light stretching or movements to get connected to your body. Do whatever you need to feel comfortable in all parts of you.
Now that you have set your internal environment for the creative time ahead, allow your mind to fantasize about your travel dreams. What do those dreams feel like in your body? Do you feel good imagining them? Make sure you are feeling excited and abundant about them before moving forward. Then, try asking yourself some questions and see what comes up.
What places excite you when you think about visiting them? What sights do you want to see and experience? What cultures do you want to learn about? What foods do you want to try? What music do you want to hear? What smells do you want to breathe in? What activities do you want to try? How do you see yourself moving from place to place? Where do you envision resting your bones after a day of exploration?
Ultimately we are looking to gain a sense of the feelings you want to experience and the images that come to mind when you feel those emotions.
As far as project duration goes, don’t worry about having enough time to complete your vision board all at once. Some boards get created in an afternoon and some take shape over a longer period of time. Yours will come together in a unique way for you. Just set out when it feels right and leave the rest to unfold naturally.
Finding Images
Now that you have fully set the stage, it’s time to find those images.
Start by creating a “Vision Board” folder on your computer (or a safe space to store images on your phone or tablet). This is where you will save your images as you come across them.
Now seek out those inspiring pictures. Perhaps you already have some in mind, maybe from a friend’s recent trip or from something that caught your eye on social media. If that’s the case, grab those ones out first and save them (no worries about copyright infringement because this is for your own personal viewing).
Most images you are going to have to search for. This is the fun part, which I really favor using Google Images for (although I encourage you to use any image finder you enjoy). Using the first image you have in mind, search a word or phrase that you think will generate the results you are looking for. This sounds fairly straightforward, but sometimes it can be tricky.
Remember there are a lot of images out there. For example, you may get really excited by the thought of backpacking through Europe. However, upon a Google image search of “backpack Europe” you may find that the results are not what you had in mind.
I suggest honing in on what you are really envisioning. Is it a Villa in Italy? Or perhaps a small café in France? Is it the coast of the Mediterranean? Or night life in Madrid? Whatever it is, get more specific. Perhaps your phrase is something as precise as “moonlight on water in Greece” or “mangoes market Spain”. The clearer you can be, the more success you will have in finding the results you are looking for.
You may also decide you want certain inspiring words on your board. If this is the case you can either search for them or create them in a program such as Microsoft Word’s WordArt, then save them as an image file.
Putting it All Together
Once you feel like you have enough images, it is time to start putting them all together. There is no right or wrong way to do it.
There are a number of programs you can use to put together your digital vision board. Basically, choose anything that is easy to paste images into while still being able to crop and resize them. Some common programs that would work are Photoshop, Canva, Picmonkey, Publisher, Gimp, Word, Pages and (although I have never used any) I believe there is even software you can use that is specifically for vision board creation.
Once you have selected your preferred program, enjoy pulling in the images you found that feel good for you. Play around with where you want them positioned on the page, what images you want side by side, what size you want them, and so on.
You don’t have to use all of the ones you’ve gathered. You may find that you want to have a very open, spacious board
and so you just have a few pictures. Or perhaps you prefer the excited energy of having everything together. Whatever you decide, it is your creation.
Check in with yourself throughout the process of creating your vision board. Make sure you are feeling excited and playful. If it starts to feel like work at any point, just stop and continue the next time you feel inspired.
Once you have completed your board, sit back and marvel at your finished product. Then, post it somewhere you will look at it regularly. Perhaps it will become your desktop background, or the lock screen on your phone. Maybe you print it out and hang it on your fridge or in your office.
Take pleasure in the viewing of your vision board as frequently as you would like. Let the emotions fill you and remember that you can have everything you dream of.
As you grow and shift, so will your fantasies. If it is fun for you, keep creating vision boards along your journey, saving them, so you can look back over time and take note of all the beautiful ways your dreams have unfolded before you.
Small and Large Graces on a Tough Day
I'm slowly reading Small Graces by Kent Nerburn.
Each chapter is a short, gentle reflection on "the quiet gifts of every day life." Today I feel the graces I've received are more like Large Graces. I've had a rough day, a day that found me with two flat tires, crying (for various reasons) while walking down a hot, dusty road next to a car dealership, unable to connect with any friends or family (for the moment) due patchy service in this small town.
I found a coffee shop hoping to borrow the bathroom, cry my eyes out, and splash some water on my face. When the woman behind the counter asked me how I was doing, I told her I'd been having a rough day. Her response was so deeply kind and caring that I started crying again -- this time happy tears. Then I talked to my mom and my sister and they were so full of grace and understanding even though when I'm feeling fragile I can be taut and combative.... and self-centered.
This minimalist nomad life is (for me) so fabulous and dreamy that I can't believe it's real sometimes. It just feels so wonderful that we created this and get to create it every day. But it can also be hard; it can be challenging in the way that all unconventional lifestyles are. Creating this every day, putting myself out there as an author, coach, and consultant takes constant creativity, focus, unshakable confidence, and an ability to wear a stunning variety of hats. I love it, and I'm so grateful for the opportunities I've been given to live this life. But sometimes life is hard... and I have a day where moisture builds up behind my eyes... a lot.
So this afternoon I'm grateful for the Large Graces of caring family + friends and strangers in coffee shops. With gratitude, I can create anything I can imagine, and I do. You can too.
Packing Lust and Nesting
I skipped posting on the last full moon -- the first one of 2016. Why? -- a combination of forgetting and then feeling too busy to post. Last year it was fun to post on or before the full moon -- at least once a month. That was less frequently than I was posting when I started Packing Lust in June 2012, when we were just starting off on our adventure of living overseas. Around once a month felt about right for last year, the big year of being a new parent.
After moving to Los Angeles just a few days before Christmas 2015, there's been a lot going on. We lived in a temporary furnished apartment near the La Brea Tar Pits (which was awesome -- not the pits at all) for a few weeks before finding a charming apartment mere feet from the spot Prince Charming and I met in 2010. We couldn't resist living in and around the same apartment complex where we fell in love, not to mention the fact that we have dear friends who live walking distance away. This building is almost 100 years old and the place itself has needed a bit more work to make it clean and functional than a newer place would.
There's more too. With every move, I've handled the instability and unknown somewhat well. But this last move has been harder than the little temporary moves before it that helped us to adjust to life back in the states. Since I know we're going to be here for at least a year, I have plans. I've been nesting. And I've put a lot of pressure on myself to get and keep my home cleaned, childproofed, painted, decorated, etc. And it's still not done... even though we've been here for almost a month. Which is pretty normal, except that I feel like I've dropped my writing, this blog, and everything else to work on it. I definitely overestimated the amount of projects I could get done while also making sure my 14-month-old isn't running around with scissors in one hand and a knife in the other. And while making sure that I don't miss his adorable smiles, games of peekaboo, and delightful discoveries.
Now I'm feeling overwhelmed and sort of stagnant at the same time. I need to give us more time to settle in and find more patience with the process.
Missing my normal full moon post last month made me realize I needed to think about when and what I want to post on Packing Lust in 2016. So I'm going to keep thinking about what I want to make of this blog in this new year. Until then, Packing Lust will be on hiatus.
I like having this blog as a way to share photos and stories in packing, travel, and adventures. It's been a sort of family photo album, a way to stay in touch with anyone who wants to, and place to practice writing. But I'm not sure that with everything already on my plate there's room for it right now. We'll see.
I'm hoping to continue to share some of our adventures and simple living toolkit stuff on social media, so make sure you're following me on Instagram if you want to keep in touch for right now.
My Snowball Fight in Palestine
Late 2013
I was out walking in the snow when I saw a group of young men who made me begin to doubt the wisdom of my strol.
They emerged from a hookah joint housed in the bottom floor of a large buildin in downtown Ramallah, the seat of the government of Palestine. I was the only woman around, the only person around on the deserted, snow-gray streets. Just me and the red-eyed men rifting out of the café toward me.
It had been snowing for days. All across the West Bank, there was an extended power outage. People washed with water heated on a gas stove and huddled around their propane heaters. We had two; the larger one we lovingly called our R2D2, and the smaller one we delighted in calling by the brand name etched onto its metal plate: ORGAZ. I was still cold. No matter how many blankets I layered around me or heaters I crouched in front of, my feet and nose stayed cold. I was angry cold. Bored cold.
The anger, fueled by the cold and pent-up energy, made me feel restless and twitchy. I bundled up, put some plastic bags over my shoes to help keep the hree feet of snow out, and announced to Prince Charming that I was going for a walk. I left with a quick "bye!" without giving him much time to respond. I heard him manage to eke out a "be safe!" and I was off.
My cabin fever was quickly replaced by wonder. Glittering snow banks smothered the garden and turned trees into bowing swans. Getting from our apartment's vestibule to the street was tricky. I had to find a way around and through the snow banks. Having grown up mostly in moderate climes where a few inches of snow a year was the norm, I had no snow-walking skills to draw from. Each step I took was a new experience. My foot would sink down six inches, then when I lifted up the other foot that first one would sink down another ten inches into the snow. I hobbled my way out to the street, where the snow was less thick and a truck had made a pack-snow indentation I could follow.
I threw my head back and gazed at the sky to take in the joy of being outdoors, finally. It was still snowing, gently, not the thick blizzard of the last few days. When I got to the main street, I could turn left, or I could turn right. Left would take me away from the city center. Right would take me towards the city center, Al-Manara, where there's a monument with four stone lions that has become the iconic backdrop to many Palestinian protests against the Israeli occupation. I turned right. The city was feeling a little post-apocalyptic-deserted, and I was hoping I'd bump into someone in the center, anyone, a friendly face. I imagined we'd gesticulate to each other about the eauty of the now; it would be easy even though we might not speak the same language.
But instead of a friendly face, I saw the men. Unsmiling young men, maybe seven, with more behind them, jacked up on icotine. One puff on a hookah pipe was, I'd heard, the equivalent of smoking a bundle of ten cigarettes, so if they'd been smoking all morning, well, it was s if they' alread smoked hundreds of cigarette that da. Restless energy coursed through their wiry bodies. I'd heard these oung en called "shebab." I wasn't sure what it meant. It seemed to denote "outh," but the connotation was "unemployed, disenfranchised, hopeless, able-bodied oys and men who must roam the streets because they have nothing else to do." As they emerged from the café, I was reminded of a scene from the 2007 movie I Am Legend, where Will Smith's character is stalked by bloodthirsty mutants who hibernate in clusters in dark corners of the city. They moved slowly in my direction, as if meandering, but their bloodshot eyes, I noticed, were intensely focused. On me.
Suddenly I felt very self-conscious. Afraid. My active imagination quickly supplied me with headlines of the "Brutal Gang Rape" variety. I had a friend who'd been sexually harassed on the street not far from here I was. I looked around, behind me. No one. Just me and the shebab grouping. Get a grip, I thought. These are not bloodthirsty mutants. These are people, just like me, curious. It's human curiosity to want to see the foreigr alking by herself in the snow.
ut I had to take action. I couldn't continue my walk nwards, knowing I was getting farther from home and that I'd have to walk past the shebab again on my way back. I'd be scared the whole time. I couldn't turn around either, not without an interaction. I didn't know how they'd take it. It might be okay. Or they might follow me back, harassing me the whole way, finding out where I lived. They might just leave me alone, thinking I was scared of them, which was true.
Either way, they'd have effectively ruined my stroll, and the thought made me angry. I wasn't going to let these guys ruin my outing. I was so tired of sticking out on the street, of being the foreigner, of being looked at with an inscrutable combination of lecherousness and discomfort. I was an oddball. An American woman who wasn't afraid to go jogging on the streets, show my knees, or yell curse words at wayward bus drivers.
So I bent down, packed some snow together, and, smiling, hurled ball of snow at the man closest to me.
My snowball glanced off his legs. is reaction took a moment. Surprise. Then delight. Whether malicious or kind, I couldn't tell.
I was betting that the bridge-building power of a good snowball fight was universal. e gathered up a snowball of his own, and pitched. is was no lo. The speed ball hit me square in the face, the impact leaving me breathless. I couldn't feel my mouth or nose anymore. When sensation started to come back, everything stung. I tried to smile, hoping that's what my mouth was doing; I still couldn't really feel my face. Bleak pain. Oppressed young men of the West Bank have one weapon left. One way to fight back, vent frustration, protest, cause damage. Stone throwing. They learn young and, as observed by horrified Israelis, can do impressive damage and some even claim there have been several deaths resulting from stone throwing. I'd picked a snowball fight wit throwin experts. I gathered my second snowball and made what I was hoping would be seen as a spirited throw, a game attempt by the obvious underdog. But instead of cheering me on, one of the bystanders joined his fellow shebab and chucked another snowball at me. Then a third joined the fight against me. At this rate I'd be unconscious within moments, was my only slightly hyperbolic thought.
I had to win allies, and fast. I opened my arms wide, palms up, trying to figure out how to get some of these guys on my team. My Arabic was meager at best, but in the moment I remembered how to ask for help. I tried the phrase, pointing to two others who hadn't gotten involved so far. I gestured, inviting them to my side. I tried to say some numbers I'd learned, Arabic to express that I needed more people I my team.
They understood. I could see it click: of course. A fair fight. Three against three. Quickly a couple of them joined my side scooping up snow and throwing icy projectiles at the other shebab.
Chivalry wasn't dead. Disparity would be addressed. Justice might win.
I exhaled a huge sigh of relief. And despite my aching face and earlier apprehension, I started to have fun. More customers of the hookah cafe joined both teams.
After what I shall diplomatically refer to as a tie, we ended the game. Our hands were cold, blood was pumping, spirits were high. We were all one team, just a group of young people playing in the snow. I waved goodbye, said "Ma'a Salama."
I walked home no longer angry cold or bored cold. I'd found a friendly face. More than one.
Teddy Island
I love that we can be in a city that feels so urban with high rise buildings and a constant hum of activity, and then just a few minutes down the road feel like we are deep in the forest, complete with swamp bugs and a green canopy high above. The green space I'm thinking of is Theodore Roosevelt Island, or Teddy Island as I now think of it, a memorial to our 26th president.
We visited on Saturday. A kind stranger took the top shot of our family gathered at the feet of the impressive statue of Teddy in an energetic pose, almost like he's dunking a basketball. Or preparing to kick a tourist.
The memorial area around the statue has these stone structures with quotes from Teddy on topics like MANHOOD, NATURE, and YOUTH.
Crossing the Potomac via a pedestrian bridge on the way off the island, we paused to take more family photos.
Baby in the City: Our New Life in Arlington, Virginia
We moved to Arlington, Virginia on July 15th. This could be temporary, a three month visit to the D.C. area, or we could stay longer. We are here because Prince Charming is doing some consulting for a nonprofit in this area, and of course, because we have wanderlust.
Exploring a new city with a baby (now 8 months old) is a whole new world, a world troubled by fear of poop seeping out of a diaper and onto the varnished oak table of a trendy brunch restaurant. And other concerns, like is it okay if my son licks the glass window of the metro train, and is it better to deal with the sweat and back strain involved in baby wearing or the hassle of maneuvering a stroller into and out of elevators, metros, and through the narrow hallways of a trendy brunch restaurant.
We embraced wanderlust, we embraced packing lust, and now we are embracing the result of all that lust, which is a baby. Primary upside: he's adorable.
Deeply adorable. The world -- when I can sweep away the sheer weight of responsibility, thoughts of the strongly worded letters I may write to all installers and maintainers of baby-changing stations in bathrooms, and concerns about poop, germs, and poop, and poop -- is a different place when I am out with Bump.
When we are outside (and inside, and pretty much all the time except when he is extremely hungry or sleepy), Bump acts as a representative of the office of spreading glorious happiness. I watch the faces of people approaching us on the street, the stressed students, the tired tourists, the careworn business people. Those faces transform when they get a glimpse of Bump's slow sunrise smile. They slow down. They smile. Their shoulders relax just a little bit. They sigh. They say things like,
"He smiles from his heart."
"He adorable. He is like, a model baby. He is the model adorable baby."
"Does he always smile like that?"
"Is he always like this?"
Usually I say, "yes, pretty much" in response to the last two questions, but after giving it some thought, I realize that people are hoping they are special, that Bump is smiling at them, really seeing them, seeing their uniqueness and giving them a smiles that recognizes the best in them. And he is. So I may begin to answer differently, perhaps.
Perhaps sometimes I will say, "No, he's not always like this. It's you. You've got a special soul and he recognizes that and wants to give you the gift of his smile as a way to say thank you for sharing that which is good in you with the world."
Or, maybe I'll keep letting Bump's sweet smile do the talking.
Two Charleston Trips
There was a little flurry of road trips about 7-8 months ago, before Bump arrived, and one of them was to Charleston, SC. It was a quick trip. We saw my sister-in-law and niece, and we took one of the carriage tours that the city is famous for. We admired the old fancy homes, took a quick water-view selfie, and ate a beautiful meal.
Having been raised mostly in the South, I am used to the strong connection to Civil War history places like Charleston have, including the display of the Confederate flag and monuments to fallen Confederate soldiers. However, Charming, a California boy at heart, found it strange to be surrounded by what he was educated to view as "symbols of slavery and prejudice." I tried to explain to him that most Southerners feel a deep connection to a complex and painful history, including the Civil War, but it doesn't mean they don't condemn slavery and racism.
Seven months later, I found myself back in Charleston. This was last weekend and the city was reeling in shock and grief from the murder of nine of its African-American citizens who were killed in cold blood by a maniac who explained his actions by saying he wanted to start a race war.
In the aftermath three days ago, South Carolina Governor Nikki Haley called for the Confederate flag to be removed from the State House building in Columbia, South Carolina, saying it was a "deeply offensive symbol of a brutally offensive past." Hopefully this act will help create a more inclusive, unified state that can heal from the racially motivated act of violence that rocked the state and the country.
During this recent weekend trip, signs hung all around the city, declaring unity and thoughts of sympathy to the families of the slain and the church they belonged to. The photo at the top of this post shows one of those signs, displayed in the city market and signed by passersby.
I was there with three college friends to celebrate our 30th birthdays, which we did mostly by talking, relaxing by pool and beach, and by going out for fish tacos.
After tacos Saturday night, we walked next door to an outdoor art showing we'd passed by earlier in the day. The large, graffitti-inspired murals had been a backdrop for an inclusive community event earlier that was open to the public. We arrived after the event closed, but walked around the outdoor area to one of the murals that was lit with votive candles lined up under it.
We held hands and said a prayer for Charleston as dusk deepened. A fellow latecomer arrived to the art event on a bicycle and offered to take a group photo for us.
This second Charleston trip was just as beautiful as the first, but marked by a turning point that will hopefully bring good out of evil for the city.
Dance of the Spring Moon
Prince Charming, Bump and I visited our first powwow as a family on May 3, which, not coincidentally, was a full moon.
The Dance of the Spring Moon is a well-known event hosted by the Lumbee Tribe here in the Robeson County, NC area. In an article about the powwow in the local paper, The Robesonian, an attendee said that he heard that this event was well known in the Native American community for having the best drummers.
The annual Spring event would be a great one for visitors to the area to attend any year. The environment is friendly and educational and all are welcome to enjoy the atmosphere and learn about the various ceremonial dances and traditions of the Native American Tribes who attend.
