When messages come through people
The day before New Year's Eve, an unexpected urge hit me: what if I started adding sketches to my daily journal?
See the thing is…I don’t even know how to draw.
I doodle here and there, but I don’t draw. What am I thinking? Where is this even coming from?
In the spirit of my 2024 guiding word, I’ve been actively exploring, playing, and just making shit. And this time, it’s not out of impulse, but out of intentional effort. Perhaps it’s my emotional attachment to self-expression.
This happens every year. I have a hard time moving on to another word because I’m afraid I’ll lose everything that came with it. That suddenly, I’ll go back to neglecting my creative practice and lose the connection to what I’ve worked so hard to nurture. I know, it’s a bit dramatic.
I’ve never taken a drawing class. I took a painting class in college for fun and really enjoyed it, but got so busy trying to finish my degree that it became an afterthought.
An unfinished painting I made ~14 years ago
As a child, I wrote letters back and forth to my uncle in the Philippines, who has a natural gift for drawing. We’d include sketches of random things in our letters, and I would get so excited when an envelope with my name written in his handwriting arrived in the mail.
I’ve always been fascinated by the artistry of handwriting—calligraphy, script, and the character and uniqueness of people’s penmanship. I’ve also experimented with my own handwriting, trying different styles: all caps, cursive, a mix of both, until I ended up with what it looks like now. But as far as drawing? Nope. My proportions are off, and I can’t draw something off the top of my head like other people can.
But I figured, hey, I’m just doodling.
Relax. Have fun with it.
Listen to that “pull.”
I eagerly told my incredibly supportive partner, Tito, that I wanted to grab some art supplies—a sketchbook, maybe some watercolor pencils, and whatever else I thought I’d need to get started. Being someone who can spend hours looking at pens (he’s a tattooer/artist), he quickly agreed, and we headed over to a local art store.
As we walked in, we were greeted by William, a gentleman with a fabulous ochre scarf meticulously wrapped around his neck. He knew Tito from years of being a regular patron. William asked if he could help us find anything, and I told him I was thinking of dabbling in drawing—maybe play around with some watercolor—while making it clear that I was a total beginner (let’s lower the expectations here).
With enthusiasm, William walked me over to the sketchbooks and explained the different types of paper, sizes, and quality, sprinkling in anecdotes from his decades of painting and teaching along the way.
We chatted a little about travel, and I asked him how he manages to bring his tools wherever he goes. Then, as if revealing a treasure, he said, “I’ll show you.” He returned with a weathered brown leather bag and began pulling out a gorgeous brass container filled with watercolor. He went on to show me his brushes and other tools—a thoughtfully curated collection tucked inside his well-loved bag.
That moment explained it all—the love, the joy, the craft. He was so willing to share his knowledge and pass it along to someone who is...curious, a beginner, a stranger.
Then, he pulled out a calligraphy pen, and I told him I’d always wanted to learn calligraphy. He said, “I’ll teach you.” We walked over to the calligraphy pens, and on a long sheet of paper, he first drew lines and then carefully wrote out the alphabet. He demonstrated how to write my name, as well as Tito’s, and then handed it to us as a gift.
I walked out of that art store with more than just art supplies. I got a free calligraphy lesson, a book recommendation, and a gentle reminder: “Keep following what’s tugging at you.”
It’s obvious when something lights someone up. People who are passionate about a craft, a practice, or just their way of being in this chaotic world exude a special kind of energy. It’s indescribable, but undeniable. You can only witness it—and, in doing so, you’re reminded of your own spark.
I was meant to walk into that art store on that particular day. Whether or not I continue to doodle and sketch (we’ll see!), William’s message stayed with me. In that moment of human connection, I realized the real lesson: to follow what tugs at my heart, even when it might not make any sense.
For me, this isn't just about learning something new—it's a continuation of the self-expression I've been reconnecting with over time. Good thing I paid attention.
Check out William’s art at https://www.williamdunnstudio.com
He’s a super talented artist, and I particularly love his paintings of cityscapes.