My mother drew beautifully.
I grew up watching the ease with which she used pencil or pen or watercolours to make everything around her a little brighter.
On my part, I was as clumsy as can be: utterly unable to paint within the borders and drawing gigantic heads with tiny limbs. My handwriting has been a disaster ever since I can remember.
And then, one day in August 2012, I woke up feeling a sudden (and surprising) urge to draw. It was the strangest thing.
I am very fickle when it comes to artistic pursuits, so I didn’t think much of my own impulse. But I did buy a sketchbook, mechanical pencil & ‘how to’ guide on that same morning.
A full half hour was spent on one eye alone. And it was the most mentally relaxing half hour I had had in ages.
Two years have passed and sketching has become the closest thing to meditation. I don’t do it daily and I do get lazy from time to time. But I’m feeling a little braver with the pencil & it still helps me to clear my head.
The handwriting is still a disaster, though.