Life moves quickly. Sometimes, you have to take the small moments of peace it offers. For example, coloring.
Now you may think…coloring? Isn’t that for 6-year-olds? True, but isn’t there a six-year-old child still living in each of us? Every now and again, like today, when it is one of those cold, dark, dreary kinds of mid-winter mornings in the Midwest, with more snow expected (sigh), I get my coloring book and crayons (the box of 96 colors…after all, go big or go home). I pour a warm cup of coffee and choose a picture to color.
Some mornings, this activity gives me back the control I don’t always have in my career. At the office, you have to follow company procedure, deliver what the boss wants, and tow the company line, whether you agree with it or not. Your coloring book leaves all the decisions open to you…there are no right or wrong answers…and best of all, no one needs to approve it!
Other mornings, it’s just about letting my creative side run wild. Well, semi-wild…I’m not the most artistically talented being. Coloring lets me pretend that I am and that I do have an eye for color…despite the fact that not all shades of purple look good next to each other and most reds and pinks don’t tone together well. But in that single moment, I am Van Gogh.
Whatever needs coloring fills for me, the final outcome is peace. Peace of a clear mind that was moments ago spinning. Peace of body because you can’t be moving 100-miles-a-minute when you are coloring…why do you think Kindergarten teachers include it in lesson plans? And peace of spirit, because when you color, all the stress, fear and uncertainty of life just fall away.
Like I said, some mornings are made for crayons and coffee.