Doodling with Intent
This weekend I taught my son how to draw expansively. At least that’s what I’m calling it. I don’t know what the word is for drawing doodles which connect to each other but it must be a thing. The rain poured outside. The little ones had tired of colouring in. It was time for something more creative.
Here’s how it went. I would draw something. It started with a ghost. I doodled it growing out of something. This became a pot. Like a plant pot. I drew some piping from what turned out to be a plant nursery.
As I drew each (random) doodle item, I spoke about what it was and how it connected to the rest of the images and the overall piece. Each time I drew something new, my eldest son would copy, with a slight change. So, he was drawing a fire ghost instead of a plant ghost for example. It went on like this until we had filled our A3 sheets of paper.
Harsh Feedback
When we presented the final results of the above drawing exercise to family members, they pointed out, to my surprise, that my son’s doodling had a more clever use of space and colour. It was probably his use of a simple colour scheme, compared to my glaring contrast of red and green.
Never mind. I accept that they won’t be hanging that particular creation of mine in the Louvre any time soon. But it led to some parenting joy. That semi-elusive state of actual wholesome goodness in between the temper tantrums and crazy early starts.
He took pride in creating a similar but distinct doodle-type creation later in the afternoon. When pressed about what it was, he told his mum what each of the elements of his new ‘poison ghost’ diagram did. He outlined how they related to each other. I was made up. It seemed he had acquired a new skill. Not particularly useful on day one, but he’s got a lifetime to improve and develop his drawing.
The Warming Thing
On this dreary afternoon, oppressed by rain falling from heavy sullen clouds, it felt fantastic to engage his active mind in something that captivated his attention. You learn the real meaning of the phrase silence is golden when you can calm your youngsters for an hour at a time!
There is something that’s just special about watching young children. I guess wholesome is the word. As the rain continued its rhythmic pattern against the windows, I found myself observing not just one, but both of my children. My eldest, the emerging doodle artist, and his younger brother, the mess maker, who behave like two old souls reconnecting after lifetimes. They are almost five and two-and-a-half, respectively. Yet I feel their bond transcends the limits of age.
Echoes of Old Souls
There is a depth to their interactions, a silent understanding, and you could even call it a joyous celebration of companionship. It’s the kind of thing you would expect from lifelong friends who could reminisce about shared memories. They have their disagreements. That’s standard. But the moments of pure fun and camaraderie overshadow those minor skirmishes.
I realise that this probably goes against the traditional Buddhist concept of not having a soul. The struggles in that area are something I’ve written about several years ago when exploring spirituality.
Yet, back in the now, watching my elder teach the younger, or simply observing them enjoying each other’s company, is a lesson in the beauty of connection. These moments make you wonder: do we grow into wisdom or is wisdom something we are born with. Something that’s hidden and we can then spend a lifetime rediscovering?
A word on Koans
I’ve been listening to a lot of Henry Shukman’s teachings recently. Specifically his series on Koans. A Koan is a surprising or paradoxical phrase, taken from an anecdote, often used as an object of meditation. The series has helped me appreciate the profundity of each moment in time, although I remain a bit unsure of the Koans themselves.
Last night I listened to him talk about an 8th century Koan related to heritage and continuity. I may butcher it if I try to repeat it here, but needless to say I realise these young lives I’m raising will likely be my most enduring legacy.
Delving into Shukman’s teachings has made me consider that while the abstract nature of Koans may leave listeners baffled, they probably resonate on a more subconscious level. I’m now thinking this mirrors the journey of parenthood. It is a chaotic journey. But an enigmatic one. It makes us ponder the enduring impact of the legacies we will leave behind.
Final Thoughts
In Zen, there is often a seeking of enlightenment through meditation, a focus on the present moment, or the teachings of a master. However, we can draw similarly profound learning from other sources. The innocence of play, the vibrant drawings, and the (rare) silent and absorbed moments with our children.
These all offer us a glimpse into the underlying truths of life. In witnessing every shared laugh, every doodle, and every playful quarrel, there lies a deeper meaning to be discovered, a small taste of insight. A morsel maybe, but still a way to understanding the connected nature of all things.
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