I have the artistic ability of a primary school child. This short coming in the doodling department is constantly exposed by my young daughter and her myriad requests for me to draw different animals. They all end up looking equally vague in regard to what they are meant to be – a sort of rogues gallery of evolutionary stages that didn’t quite make the grade to survive. Colouring in and managing to stay within the lines was, it turned out, the nadir of my artistic achievements. As we grow older we put childish things away so this meant that the joys of scribbling, colouring and doodling were lost to me. Until recently, if an adult had told me that they spent their spare time colouring in pre-drawn black and white pictures I’d have wondered if they were suffering from head trauma.

That was until recently when a good friend bought me “The Mindful Colouring Book”. My friends’ reaction to my embracing of mindfulness has been mixed over the years, ranging from indulgent scepticism to quizzical interest and it was in this spirit that the book was bought. I have to admit, while touched I was sceptical. The voice in my head saying “this is not mindfulness, this is the sort of thing that will make it easy for the doubters to sneer at”. I was both right and wrong.

The sneerers will sneer, especially when given something so seemingly easy to laugh at, but like so much of mindfulness, you dismiss it at quite a cost. Like all meditative practices, the mindfulness colouring book is an engrossing, experiential practice, one that combines mindful awareness, breathing and movement in a simple to do task (even for someone as artistically challenged as me). More than easy it’s really fun. Once I got past the bit of my mind recoiling at the idea of doing something we have label as “childish” I quickly found myself really enjoying the experience. The doing mode of mind was questioning “is this really mindfulness” but I let this go and immersed myself in the feel of the pencil, the sound of the it on the page and the sense of fulfilment and satisfaction as I filled the page with colour.

For those still doubting its mindful efficacy, simply colouring in – much like focusing on the breath – quickly exposed the endless undercurrent of chatter that is the doing mind. I could feel competitiveness in wanting to finish it quickly and well. I noticed thoughts about making sure I used the “correct” colours to ensure that it looked “good”. I could only imagine the looks of dumbfounded incomprehension if my colleagues (and perhaps even friends and family!) could see what I was doing…..a man approaching his 40s lying on the floor colouring in a picture of spirals and whirls. And, much like in mindfulness of breath, I was able to watch all of this and let it go and really enjoy 10 minutes of unadulterated experiential joy. I may even have had my tongue stuck out to the side in the stereotype of childlike concentration.

I didn’t care and, I believe, neither would you if you actually gave it a try.