Why a Vision Board is like a Sourdough Starter

A starter, not a finished loaf x

Last weekend I went to a sourdough workshop at Bernie’s Bakehouse, taught by Nicole Bernard.

Nicole’s from Glasgow originally but she lives in London now — her workshops are usually in Highgate. So when I saw she was up here for a rare Glasgow weekend, I was first in the queue.

I’ve been a fan of Nicole’s bread for years. She started Bernie’s Bakehouse during lockdown — her uncle’s friend, who owned a bakery, gave him a bit of starter, and her uncle dropped it off at her door. Her passion was born from there.

Back then I used to order her sourdough. She’d post about her bakes and I’d put in an order for one of her delicious loafs. I was one of her biggest cheerleaders. So sitting in her workshop last weekend felt like a quiet full circle.

I went because I love her bread, was curious about the process and because I think she’s brilliant.

Nicole’s own story is its own beautiful arc. She used to be in the corporate world. Over time she found her way into the more holistic side of things — food, health, yoga. The sourdough passion came at exactly the moment when so many of us were trying to figure out what we actually wanted, in very uncertain times.

But here’s what I found fascinating.

A sourdough starter doesn’t work the same for everyone! It depends on your own microbiome. The temperature of your kitchen. The flour you’re using. The pace of your week. Two women can start with the same recipe, in the same town, and end up with completely different loaves — because the starter is alive, and it responds to YOU!

I was sitting there watching her demonstrate, and I thought: that’s the same principles as a Vision Board.

A Vision Board isn’t a static thing you fix once and admire. It’s a starter. It’s alive. It depends on what you’ve fed it. On what your life looks like right now. On your specific environment and how much love and attention you put into it.

What you wanted six months ago might not be what you want now.

That’s evolution. That IS the work.

The board on the wall behind my desk has had things crossed off and rewritten. A goal from January that I quietly took off in May because it wasn’t mine anymore. New things added in handwriting I almost didn’t recognise as my own.

That’s the board working.

But here’s what I found fascinating.

When you feed a sourdough starter, it doubles. So sometimes you have to take some out to make room for what’s coming next. And Nicole — who hates waste — has spent years finding things to do with the excess, from Asian-style pancakes to seeded crackers. Whatever the starter wants to become next.

That landed for me too.

It's like clearing out old clothes. Or old makeup. Or old habits. You have to clear them out of the way to allow new things to come in.

You can't just keep adding. You also have to clear.

The things we let go of — the goals we cross off, the versions of ourselves we outgrow, the work we used to do — they aren’t waste. They’re material for the next thing. The excess from a year of growth becomes the foundation for what comes after.

You’re not behind when you take a goal off your board. You’re making room.

And here’s the other bit I liked. You don’t have to do it the “right” way to do it. Truthfully, I’m probably not going to bake sourdough bread. But, I could absolutely see myself making Nicole’s seeded crackers — they were delicious.

Your version of the work doesn’t have to look like anyone else’s.

A starter, not a finished loaf. Your bacteria. Your kitchen. Your way.

So that’s your Wee Nudge for this week. Whatever you wrote down at the start of the year — go and look at it. Cross off what isn’t yours anymore. Add what’s pulling at you now. Feed the things that are still alive. And remember — the things you take off the list become the material for what comes next. Or if you haven’t started your Vision Board yet it’s never too late.

You’re not behind. You’re tending.

— Lesley

P.S. If you’re nearby and want a Saturday morning that smells like flour and feels like a quiet but important conversation, Bernie’s Bakehouse is worth the trip.