I sustained a delightful couple of hours of mindlessness, yesterday, and had a bit of a play with paints and brushes.

The end result isn’t very profound or meaningful, but the process was pretty special.

It was one of those rare moments when I managed to turn off the endless chatter of thoughts in my head—the critic, the sycophant, the worrier, the unhappy rationalist, the self-conscious amateur, the eager-to-please child, the pretentious dilettante—and slip through the little magical door of Now, into simply Being…simply Doing, firmly occupying the present moment and having the present moment occupy me: focused on nothing but the dabbing of paint on canvas, the playful building-up of lines and shapes, the aroma of the coffee, the sounds of the wind and water around the boat.

I felt a deep peace and calm as I worked, not caring what the outcome would be, not caring if turned…