A Vision Of The Future

Self-imposed change is possible. You have to be ready for it. You have to be committed to it. Most importantly, you have to think of what it looks like, then plan your steps to make it happen. I believe that before one can change, before one can achieve anything, one must have a vision of the future incarnation, of the goals already having been accomplished. Vision requires imagination and courage. It also requires strength.

Sometimes we don't have the strength, physically or emotionally, to envision the future, let alone take the necessary steps. Even before we act, the vision itself requires letting go of who we are right now, possibly acknowledging the state of affairs that we wish to change in the first place. Consider the alcoholic or drug addict who envisions him/herself as a sober person, and how hard that must be. Or the obese person who envisions herself as a marathon runner. Or the grieving widow who envisions herself in a different life than what she shared with her husband.

Shortly after Kaz and I moved in together, I made a "vision board" along with a girlfriend who had moved to another state. It was a pact, "let's both do it!" We spent the next few weekends, her in Georgia, me in Los Angeles, going through magazines and cutting out images that spoke to us. Then we glued the images to a board and tacked the board on the wall above our respective desks. She had her own home office, but my desk at the time was in the living room. When we were finished we took pictures of our boards, which had sections for physical, personal and professional, and emailed them to each other.

On my board, I envisioned myself thinner and healthier, with a baby and/or dog, a house, professionally respected and successful, experiencing adventures domestic and abroad. There were moments when I felt guilty about the board and my vision. I don't know if Kaz ever looked at it closely, but I know he saw it. Both of us knew that we wouldn't be able to share most of the things on my board together, because he would die before I could achieve them.

Now, three years later, I am once again looking at this board, not physically - I threw it away when he died - but in my mind's eye. It's always been in the back of my mind on some level, but it was fuzzy for a long time. The fog of grief is thick and long-lasting. Then certain aspects of it became clearer. Getting Ruby last October helped (she had been on the board). Starting this blog around the same time helped. The residency in Vermont also helped, but ever since, I've been struggling to figure out the rest, not the vision, but the path to making the vision a reality.

When I was in Vermont, one of the visiting authors said she had been a legal secretary for most of her adult life with a secret yen for writing. When she was 44 years old, she applied to graduate schools and was accepted to Iowa State University, one of the most prestigious writing programs in the country. She was the oldest woman in her class, but she persevered and ended up publishing her first book after graduating to both critical and financial success. I think about her often.

Something shifted for me after the two-year anniversary of Kaz's passing on May 3rd. Learning that I didn't get that writing gig, losing the play, deciding to stay in my job... all made the shift even stronger. I'm ready to make the vision on that board a reality. It won't happen overnight. It won't be easy. But I know what I need to do to make it happen.

Have you ever changed your life? Or are you working towards your vision right now?