The Pages of My Sketch Pad

Three months ago, I bought a sketch pad.

It happened very suddenly. Sitting on my bed, working virtually for a longterm client, I heard a very distinct voice in my head that said “go buy a sketch pad.”

As a person who finds great pleasure in listening to callings such as these, I promptly got up and acted on it.

Once in the store, I allowed myself to explore a little and ended up leaving with not only the mysterious sketch pad but colored pencils, black fine point sharpies, and a beautiful array of paint brush markers. For what, I wasn’t really sure - I just knew I needed them.

When I got home that afternoon, I set my new supplies on the table, where they would sit for several days.

For now, I knew acquiring the supplies was enough and the rest would unfold as it needed to.

Isn’t it funny how patience comes so freely with some things, and feels like a death grip for others?

Finally, one quiet evening, I picked up the supplies and decided to dive in.

Honestly, I had no idea how to let myself be creative. I was certainly no artist, although admittedly, I always desperately wanted to be.

The first design I drew really didn’t seem to ignite much in me. Although, it did get me hooked and I found myself looking forward to opening this sketch pad every evening as a way to wind down.

I had no idea how much this small act was opening my mind and, inadvertently, my soul.

The first lesson was a big one. Release control.

Very quickly, I realized just how little control I really had over how the picture would turn out.

Sure, I could drum up the biggest, most perfectly laid out, most brilliant idea of all time, but I had to accept that as soon as my pen hit the paper, the rest was up to fate and creativity. Each drawing requiring me to completely release my white knuckle tendencies and simply allow myself to create.

My letting go seemed to give my creativity permission to turn each picture into whatever it needed to be, rarely ever how I originally imagined.

All I was doing by trying to stuff my drawing into the box of what I thought it should be, was stifling the potential of letting it become all it was meant to be.

The mindset of “this line must go here because that’s how I planned it” was denying myself, and my drawing, the liberty of deciding along the way.

This, I know now, is how we must approach life, as well.

As the famous poet and a dear staple in my family history, Rabbie Burns, says “the best laid plans of mice and men often go astray.”

We must learn to accept this fact and move forward anyway.

Make no mistake, this is not to say we shouldn’t be prepared. After all, I was well equipped with all of the necessary tools to make this drawing a success, but it is to say that there is great power and joy to be found in letting go of the outcome and simply enjoying the process - in drawing, and in life.

Have a plan. Have your supplies. Start the journey. Then, let go.

Piece of cake, am I right?

The second lesson? Art is an act of bravery.

It takes a serious amount of courage to put your pen to the paper.

To put your pen to the paper is to admit to yourself that you are, in fact, creative (despite what you may have believed about yourself prior). It’s to allow yourself the freedom of discovery and to be unlatched from the impossible hook of perfection. It’s to give yourself permission to let the project be what it needs to be.

This is the first act of bravery. The second act of bravery takes much, much more courage.

The thing is, before anyone can decide your art is good enough to admire, you must first decide that your art is good enough to share. You must know, to your core, that your work is beautiful and worthy of admiration, regardless of if anyone ever gives you the well-deserved (and often stingy) accolade of telling you so.

This is also true for ourselves.

As a living, breathing, human being - I have, like all of us, battled with my self worth and self image. Constantly in a tug of war between knowing I was special and thinking I was crazy. Between feeling good about myself, and comparing myself with someone else. Tugging on whether I was good enough and I belonged, or whether someone else deserved it more than me.

It was in the pages of my sketch pad that I realized that before anyone could really decide anything about me, I had to decide it about myself. Good, bad, or ugly. I had to decide that I was special, that others being good didn’t make me any less good, that I do belong, and that I am not only good enough - I’m freaking fantastic.

If I was to continue showing up to my life in a constant state of questioning these things about myself, how could I expect others not to question them right along with me?

The things we decide about ourselves are the doors we open for the world to decide about us too. Thinking we’re not good enough only gives license for those around us to treat us as such. Our constant need for validation only keeping us stuck.

So, let go. Be brave. You are a star wrapped in human flesh - if only you believe it.

With Gratitude,

Kajelyn