A Path the Heart Can Follow
Have you ever found yourself full of feelings you didn’t know what to do with?
Yesterday, an old sadness gripped me in a way I hadn’t felt for a very long time. I felt its weight, but there were no words that could resolve or soothe it.
So instead of journaling, I began to make marks in my sketchbook. Why would I do that?
Because I needed something to do, not another way to think about what had happened. I’ve learned that if I let it, my hand makes marks that show my heart there’s a path forward.
I was too worn out to intentionally make sense of anything. There was no objective other than to let the movement of line and color give my feelings somewhere to go.
I didn’t think about it or plan what it would look like. Earlier, before starting to draw, I thought to myself, just keep putting one foot in front of the other.
And then when I put pen to mark, I thought, just keep making one line and then another. As I continued drawing lines and then filling in a few places with color, I realized that this doodle was carrying the feelings that words could not.
I’ve discovered that my inner world that can be expressed without words. Before words. I’ve seen over and over again how my body is always “speaking” to me in ways that are often subtle but totally meaningful—if I stop and pay attention.
This “doodle” became a way I could ‘metabolize’ the sadness. The drawing allowed me to process what I was feeling without coming to any conclusions. It actually carried my feelings, holding them in a way that helped my heart come to rest.
It might sound odd that a drawing or a doodle could have that kind of effect, that feelings often need a place to land because we can’t find the right words. It’s as though those lines were keeping me company when my mind was too tired to offer relief.
Afterwards, when it felt finished, I saw how the lines kept moving but didn’t force any kind of resolution. It looked like a topographical map or currents in water. If I were to give it any kind of interpretation, it would be that what emerged on the page was the inner terrain shaped by the undercurrent of my feelings.
It felt soothing to stop trying to carry the feelings by myself and to let the lines give my feelings somewhere to go. There was a comfort in the simple movement of creating lines and shapes.
There was companionship in this simple act of doodling. A way to process my feelings when my mind was too tired to resolve what I was feeling.
Sometimes, doodling isn’t just a distraction. It’s a way to give our feelings a place to land.
Yesterday, an old sadness gripped me in a way I hadn’t felt for a very long time. I felt its weight, but there were no words that could resolve or soothe it.
So instead of journaling, I began to make marks in my sketchbook. Why would I do that?
Because I needed something to do, not another way to think about what had happened. I’ve learned that if I let it, my hand makes marks that show my heart there’s a path forward.
I was too worn out to intentionally make sense of anything. There was no objective other than to let the movement of line and color give my feelings somewhere to go.
I didn’t think about it or plan what it would look like. Earlier, before starting to draw, I thought to myself, just keep putting one foot in front of the other.
And then when I put pen to mark, I thought, just keep making one line and then another. As I continued drawing lines and then filling in a few places with color, I realized that this doodle was carrying the feelings that words could not.
I’ve discovered that my inner world that can be expressed without words. Before words. I’ve seen over and over again how my body is always “speaking” to me in ways that are often subtle but totally meaningful—if I stop and pay attention.
This “doodle” became a way I could ‘metabolize’ the sadness. The drawing allowed me to process what I was feeling without coming to any conclusions. It actually carried my feelings, holding them in a way that helped my heart come to rest.
It might sound odd that a drawing or a doodle could have that kind of effect, that feelings often need a place to land because we can’t find the right words. It’s as though those lines were keeping me company when my mind was too tired to offer relief.
Afterwards, when it felt finished, I saw how the lines kept moving but didn’t force any kind of resolution. It looked like a topographical map or currents in water. If I were to give it any kind of interpretation, it would be that what emerged on the page was the inner terrain shaped by the undercurrent of my feelings.
It felt soothing to stop trying to carry the feelings by myself and to let the lines give my feelings somewhere to go. There was a comfort in the simple movement of creating lines and shapes.
There was companionship in this simple act of doodling. A way to process my feelings when my mind was too tired to resolve what I was feeling.
Sometimes, doodling isn’t just a distraction. It’s a way to give our feelings a place to land.