The art of unwinding

How to find zen with just a pen (and paper)

Despite having a cluttered mind already, one that prevents me from falling asleep at night and/or wakes me from sleep with worries, I have a nasty habit of adding to the chaos. I know it’s not great for my anxiety or self-esteem, yet time and time again I find myself willingly jumping down the rabbit hole that is TikTok. I tell myself I’m letting my brain relax, that I’m opening my mind to inspiration, but the mindless scrolling tends to only add to the undercurrent of unease inside me. Much like scrolling on Pinterest, I save things as I go, telling myself I’ll try that recipe or visit that bookstore, but I hardly ever do.

Every once in a while, however, I’ll remember something I saved and come back to it. After all, some of the things I save are even tips for decluttering a cluttered mind, like the usual journal-your-thoughts videos or the ironic limit-your-screen-time videos. The other day, I was recalling one video in particular and opened up my app to rewatch it. It’s shot from above, looking down onto a woman’s workspace. In the center of the frame is the empty page of a notebook. The paper is pebbled and thick, meant for watercolors. Sure enough, the woman’s hand brings the tip of a paintbrush into view. It’s dipped in the color she’s chosen (bright yellow) and starts painting a shape (a star) in varying sizes in different areas of the page. She then starts to outline each of the shapes, over and over, working in careful strokes. It’s satisfying, soothing even, to watch her work, to watch the bristles of the brush bring lemony lines to life. All the while, her calm voiceover is narrating each action, adding to the tranquility. After several minutes, the entire page is full of lines and expanded versions of the shapes, creating one holistic, almost kaleidoscopic image.

In a world – and on an app – that is constantly trying to distract us, I found myself mesmerized by this video when I first saw it. I watched the full, almost eight minutes of it at regular speed (versus the 2x speed I sometimes do when someone is telling a long-winded story), which is a major feat considering how easy it can be to scroll through the feed. The woman in the video referred to this practice, this art of outlining shapes over and over, as the Zentangle method.

I had never heard of Zentangles before, but I loved the simplicity of them. When I first saw the video, I saved it for later, intending to give the practice a try. Then, the other day, when I found myself reaching for my phone to soothe my anxious brain in my usual manner, I thought of it. I opened the app – only to watch the first thirty-seconds or so to remind myself how to get started – and then went to gather my supplies. I pulled a spiral-bound notebook off the bookshelf in my home office and grabbed a set of Crayola markers I’ve had since high school that miraculously haven’t dried up. I then sat myself at my desk, moved my keyboard aside, and set to work.

I decided I would draw star shapes too, but instead of painting them in yellow, I would draw them in a cheery bubblegum pink. Though I paint here and there, I’m not confident enough with my brush skills to draw lines as straight as the girl’s from the video. The perfectionist in me knew that would bug me, so I went with something more tried and true. (I give myself a point there for self-awareness.) I drew four stars, one roughly in each quadrant of the page, with two larger than the others. I then started with the upper-left star, outlining its shape, both inside and outside, leaving space between each line.

My mind still spoke to me here and there as I worked, commenting on how this line wasn’t straight or how that one was too far from the previous, but I let them say their piece and float on. Soon, in between moments of silence and concentration, I heard other thoughts arrive.

Notice how the points of the star become rounder as the shape grows? my mind observed. Yes, I thought, it makes me think of personal growth, how our inner work can soften our outer edges.

See how the shapes begin to blend together as they get larger? my mind asked. Yes, I responded, it reminds me of how as we grow as people, we can grow closer to others; how we are all interconnected, all part of each other, all one.

See how the wobbly lines become less obvious when surrounded by the others? my mind asked. Yes, I said, it makes me realize how our imperfections are all part of the whole; how they are merely one part of many that make us who we are.

After a while, my pink stars (which had also started reminding me of Patrick from Spongebob Squarepants) and their outlines covered the full page, even up to the spirals of the notebook’s edge. I sat back and examined my work. Just as I had mused as I went, I noticed a squiggly line here and there, but also noticed that they didn’t seem to disrupt the harmony of the whole. I noticed how eventually, the stars weren’t even stars at all – they were curved lines, almost like flowers, that grew bigger and bigger before morphing into one.

The finished, imperfect product. I see things I wish I could change, but I also see a dynamism that might not be there otherwise.

I finally allowed myself to look at my phone to check the time and was shocked to see that forty minutes had passed. I now fully understood why the practice has the name it does. For forty minutes, I had allowed my mind to unwind, my body to relax. In doing so, I’d found a flow state, a feeling of zen. It was not only simple, it was enjoyable – and it was far more restorative than watching a dozen TikTok videos.

It’s possible it was a fluke, a one-off. It’s possible I will get distracted and never do this again. But the fact that I’m still thinking about it days later (and writing an entire post about it) tells me this could be a practice I add into my routine, or at the very least, into the moments where I feel my most anxious or scattered. Honestly, just knowing I have Zentangles as an option – as a tool in my toolkit – is helpful. And that feels like real, tangible, delectable progress. Of course, I’m writing this as I avoid sleep, but a zen master isn’t built in a day (or night), right?

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Author’s Note: Are there any mental “unwinding” or “detangling” practices you have? Are Zentangles one of them? I’d love to hear! 🧘🏻‍♀️☮️