For many years, I forgot about doodling. But then, just recently, I remembered. I remembered how wonderful it was to sit there with a scrap of notebook paper and a pen and let my mind do its dance. I remembered how cool it was to zone out for a moment or two and then look down and see them – names, pictures, questions. How amazing it was to let go, to forget about time and the world, to scribble-scrabble as my girls would call it, to glimpse myself through words and images that were more than words and images somehow, words and images that were, in many ways, on some level, everyday art.
Words. Images. Art. Isn’t that what I love these days? Isn’t that what I have always loved? How did I forget? And what prompted me to remember?
Have you ever been a Doodler? Why do we doodle less once we become adults or parents? Is there simply less time, or do we lose that precious idle time where we can mindlessly drag pen across paper? Oooh – or has the digital age spelled the death of doodling because so many of us go through our days without papers and pens?