I have an A4 sketchbook next to my bed. It has one of my favourite pens clipped to it, and a couple of times a week, I grab it to make a doodle in it.
The moment I grab my pen and uncap it, something happens in me. I become still. I doodle, each line a breath, and the more I scribble, the more I become me.
Doodling isn’t making art.
Doodling is play.
Doodling is stillness.