Recently, I saw this photo on the internet somewhere that said, “Color outside the lines.” There was a single blank box in the center of the page. Every square inch of paper outside that box was filled with color. I liked the sentiment.
For my birthday last year my friend A gave me a little art therapy coloring book. It’s a new fad these days and I hope more people pick it up. I’m a big fan.
Earlier in the year when I was slowly weaning myself off technology, I would spend my 10 minute breaks between classes coloring. The great thing about working at an elementary school is the endless supply of coloring utensils.
It was incredibly soothing to color in the lines. I didn’t have to think. Or talk. Or worry. Or plan. I just focused on the colors.
Yesterday I was looking for my little art notebook, which I had taken off the shelf earlier in the week. I couldn’t seem to remember where I placed it. I searched fruitlessly for several minutes before I told myself it was time for me to start coloring outside the lines. I picked up my jar of colored pencils, opened a blank page in my journal, and started sketching.
My sketches are not quite museum ready yet. But for me they are enough. They are beautiful. They are reflective. And most of all they are colorful. I find joy in being able to mix colors together, blend them, and give them texture.