Translated from: https://i820311.pixnet.net/blog/post/321534440
Let's start with some hard clinical physiology.
Research shows that when we engage in artistic creation, our body undergoes several changes: muscles relax, blood pressure drops, breathing becomes deeper and longer, brain waves shift, and endorphins (our natural mood elevators) are released.
Psychologically, creation often helps us regulate emotions, temporarily forget our troubles, and immerse ourselves in our own creative world, enjoying inner freedom.
This process might seem similar to the popular practice of mindfulness. While mindfulness advocates full attention to the present moment, setting aside judgmental thoughts, it can take many forms - focusing on breathing, heartbeat, body scanning, or attending to environmental sounds and subtle movements. But in my experience, mindfulness feels like a special meditation practice, sometimes even making me drift off to sleep.
Drawing, however, is different. Remarkably, that kind of focus seems to require no practice. It often comes naturally as we attend to the present: the way colors change on paper, the texture of materials under our fingers, the scent of paint, even the soft whisper of brush against paper.
Here's my personal experience...
Shortly after the semester began, the pressure from various courses, social activities, and group work left me breathless. These different pressures created an anxiety that words couldn't describe. All I wanted was... silence... emptiness... to think of nothing.
During a free creation class, I picked up translucent tracing paper and soft pastels, and began drawing circles from the center outward, completely emptying my mind. I discovered that the pastel moving slowly on tracing paper created a steady, soothing sound.
I used different colors to represent the feelings each group gave me, filling five sheets of paper. The classroom filled with the gentle sound of my circular strokes. Gradually, my emotions settled into calmness, my muscles relaxed. I could even close my eyes and feel the rhythmic movement of my hand, as if my complex thoughts were being gently unfurled by rings of color.
Finally, I layered the five sheets together. Through the translucent paper, the center of the circles seemed to hold a power that kept this peaceful rhythm flowing. Even my classmate sitting nearby mentioned that the steady, slow sound of my drawing had helped calm their mind too.
This process might seem magical, reminiscent of the famous art therapy technique: Mandala. "Mandala" comes from ancient Sanskrit, literally meaning "circle." But its meaning transcends simple shape, representing life's wholeness and the unity between all beings and our world. In Buddhism, it symbolizes the universe. Carl Jung introduced it to Western culture, believing that humans have an innate tendency to create mandalas, symbolizing the rebalancing of body, mind, and spirit.
All this theory sounds mystical, but honestly... when I was drawing circles, I wasn't thinking about mindfulness or mandalas at all! I was simply focused on the relaxing process of drawing, and I truly experienced that pure tranquility.
If asked what principle this follows, I most agree with "art is therapy." Art itself possesses healing power!
Editor's Note: This article authentically records the natural healing experience of artistic creation from an ordinary person's perspective. This healing requires no theoretical foundation; it stems from the inherent power of art itself.