About a month ago, I ordered a “paint-by-numbers” kit on a whim, mostly because one of my closest friends kept nudging me to try a new hobby.
It sounded exciting. I just wanted something to do without involving a screen (my dry eyes would agree).
When the canvas arrived, it looked overwhelming at first. Tiny sections, some not even visible until I peered at them closely, random numbers scattered all across the canvas, colours that did not seem to make sense.
But I decided to begin.
For almost two weeks, I sat down for a couple of hours on most days and tackled one number at a time. I fell into a steady pattern – dip the brush, fill the space with colour, rinse, and repeat.
Somewhere between playing with multiple colours, something shifted. My mind, which usually runs a marathon of thoughts, started slowing down. I observed myself unknowingly calming down, not planning, not replaying conversations. I was solely focusing on what was in front of me. It felt strangely grounding. I was just… there.
When I started with this blank canvas, it seemed chaotic. But as the colours filled in, a face began to emerge; calm, eyes closed, full of peace. As the painting began to come to life, something inside me was quieting down, too.
We often think of meditation as sitting cross-legged with eyes closed and fingertips joined, with some sort of calming music or chants playing in the background. But for me, this was meditation. Meditation in motion. Meditation in colours.
There was zero pressure to be creative. I just had to show up and fill in the colours in the pre-made design.
Every stroke added a little more colour – red, blue, green, yellow.. Individually, they looked random, but together they created something so beautiful.
Isn’t that how our life pans out, too? Most days feel ordinary. Some feel messy. A few feel bright and joyful. But when you step back, they form a picture you could not see while you were in the middle of it.
This painting now sits quietly on my desk, and I find myself glancing at it throughout the day, feeling oddly proud of completing it.
Sometimes, we do not need a meditation course or retreat to feel grounded. We just need a canvas, a brush and the willingness to colour inside tiny lines.
This post is part of the Softly Speaking series. You can read the previous entries here:
- Softly Speaking #1: The Comfort of Familiar Routines
- Softly Speaking #2: My Social Battery Has a Mind of Its Own
Softly, until I write again.
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