Somewhere along the line of blogging and pinning and Tweeting and ‘gramming and all of those other social media apps (that, funnily enough, make me decidedly less social), I lost track of my first love: the inspiration board. The tangible, visual one – the cork board my mother gave me as a third grader to tack ribbons and newspaper clippings and homework assignments to. It’s the same one that I would someday tack gum wrappers and concert tickets and love letters to – the one that, now, as an adult, I tack dentist appointment reminders and to do lists and coupons to. And I look at it every now and then – past the business cards and handwritten grocery lists – and I study the many holes left from thumbtacks. How many times had I reinvented myself on that cork board? How many life stages has it carried me through, visually mapping my memories and thoughts and feelings?
Online inspiration boards are beautiful and accessible and attainable and great for the environment and all things good and holy, yes. But sometimes, I miss the weight of my cork board. The sound of a thumbtack’s prick, the texture of loose papers and receipts and reminders. The passive reminder of visual inspiration as I play with my daughter or dine with my husband – the idea that tangible inspiration and real life can exist as one.
And I suppose that’s why I need the physical inspiration board, too. It’s not about the hoarding of paper and tearing of magazine clippings. It’s the reality of it all. The undeniable belief that (maybe, just maybe) because my cork board is tangible, perhaps my dreams are, as well.
Image Credit: Erin Loechner