I talk about creative self care a lot, and for me, that's not just about engaging in creative activities as a way of caring for myself, it's also about caretaking my creativity itself - finding ways to surround myself with inspiration, so that when I'm tired, or feeling flat, or have run out of words, or I want to draw my way through a challenging feeling, or go on a quest in my art journal to find answers to a particularly tricky question* that life is throwing at me, there is something there to draw from.

What's your oasis of calm?

If calm isn't the word, maybe stability, or peace, or ease.

Another question - where is your oasis of calm?

It can feel a bit like a mirage at times, or like someone snuck in while you weren't looking and brushed away the path. I used to feel calm, but I don't know how to get back to that place. I don't have time. I have a to-do list as long as my arm. Time is going too fast (time is absolutely going too fast for me - I'm looking for a time elf to magic it slow again for me. If I find one I'll lend it to you, if you like).

Creative self care is the best self care. I talk about it being good for stress relief and finding flow, but it occurred to me that those are very 'proper' (and maybe slightly boring) reasons. It's also good for much weirder and more whimsical stuff. Here's a bunch of weird reasons that I've been hoarding like a dragon sitting on a pile of gold.

Creativity is for you. Singing. Dancing. Making art. Not just for people with 'talent'. Not just for professionals. For you.

Humans are inherently creative, but many of us have been taught to believe that 'creative' means 'able to paint a masterpiece that will end up on a gallery wall'.

How might your life be different if creativity was something you did, the way that birds just sing, rather than something to ‘be good at’?

"I can't draw."

I hear that a lot from people. I used to hear that a lot from myself. For decades. I made a lot of art, but it was all abstract or stylised because I couldn't draw "real" things.

It was true that I couldn't draw, but only because I hadn't learned how yet.

Learning to draw is like learning to read - when you've learned the letters and the basics of grammar, you can read whatever you want. When you've learned the basic principles of drawing, you can draw whatever you like.

Want to know a (not very) secret about our bodies? They’re only ever in the present moment. So when we engage in a creative activity with our hands, the act of drawing or gardening or cooking or knitting draws us into the present. This is part of why creative activities are so good for our wellbeing.

[the mandala drawing above was created by my friend and art therapist colleague who is running the online therapeutic art group with me - mandalas don’t have to be symmetrical!]

Making stuff makes you feel better.

There’s something a bit magic about starting with nothing and ending up with something that wasn’t there before. Aside from the end result, there’s also something a bit magic about what happens when we’re engaged in the process of creating. The ‘doing’ bit.

If you see yourself as a creative person, you might know this already.

But if you don’t see yourself as creative, or you feel intimidated by the thought of starting to draw or crochet or restore furniture or whatever idea is trying to get your attention, making stuff can feel like a hard mountain to climb.

Have you ever tried drawing a mandala? Mandalas have become known as beautiful symmetrical circular patterns, but that’s just one expression of them. Mandala means ‘circle’ in sanskrit - so really any drawing in a circle could be a mandala.

The medicine wheel is a circle. The full moon. The yin-yang. These are all examples of circles that hold so much meaning.

So when we’re drawing our own mandalas, the circle can hold our meaning, too. Our stories. Our feelings and experiences and fears and curiosities. Our expression of who we are.

Art can be healing, and can be used as a therapeutic tool - but when you’re just getting started (or when you’ve been doing the same old thing for a while) - how do you know what to draw?

This is the first in a series of posts offering some suggestions. We’ll begin with spontaneous drawing. These suggestions are written as if you’re going to draw in an art journal, but you can give these a go on a piece of loose paper, on a wall… whatever you have to hand.

Seasons never get stuck. Have you noticed?

They roll on, one into the next, in their own time. Sometimes winter will be long, or sometimes summer will be cooler than usual, but the seasons keep on moving through their cycle, one after the other.

The moon is the same - it’s never stuck. It cycles through its phases, one into the next, drawing the tides with it as it goes.

There’s something comforting about seasons and the way they keep on moving. Maybe we don’t like the season we’re in, but if we’re attuned to our internal seasons, we can have some idea of where we’re at, and of what might be coming next.

I don’t have a 10 step process to anywhere.

My lack of answers sometimes dismays me.

I want to be able to tell you - here’s the path. Do these ten things, one after the other, and then you will arrive, and live happily ever after.

Alas…

Life, relationships, healing and growth don’t really work like that.

Know what they DO work with, though? Curiosity.

Know what’s missing lately?

Silliness. Absurdity. The whimsical and strange.

Not as a way to bypass the weight of the world, not as a way to stick your head in the sand or your fingers in your ears singing ‘la la la I’m not listening’ (although - good strategies, sometimes necessary).

But as a way to help us stay human, and to resource us for the hard times.

If you're someone who is saving a nice journal (or two, or three) for ‘someday’ when you have a nice enough thing to use it for, this is your gentle encouragement to get out the nice journal, and use it. Not someday, (someday is not a real day) but today.

Use the nice journal.