Slow living & art journaling: A creative path to inner stillness
There is a rhythm the world no longer listens to. It’s the rhythm of the seasons, of breath, of quiet mornings that ask nothing of us. I’ve come to believe that this rhythm still lives in us. We’ve just forgotten how to move with it.
This week in Between Breaths, I return to something simple and powerful:
Art journaling as a form of slow living. Not for productivity. Not for perfection. But for presence. A place where we can meet ourselves, exactly as we are.
Slow living isn’t about doing less. It’s about doing gently.
Slow living is not anti-busy. It’s pro-intention. It doesn’t mean we avoid hard things, or float through life with tea and linen. It means we choose what matters. We pause before responding. We let silence finish her sentence before we speak.
And when paired with creativity - slow living becomes a daily practice of listening.
Why art journaling matters in a fast world
In the noise of the world, our emotions get swept along. We respond, react, manage, perform.
Art journaling slows the tide. It’s not about skill. It’s about creating a visual record of what you feel, without needing to explain it. Colors instead of words. Lines instead of logic. It’s a space where chaos can soften.
For artists, it reconnects you with your intuition. For therapists, it can become a safe container for clients exploring their internal world. And for all of us, it’s a place to breathe with our hands.
What an art journaling ritual can look like
You don’t need fancy supplies. You don’t need to know where it’s going. You only need to begin.
Here’s a simple practice I return to often:
Light a candle or take three breaths before you begin.
Choose a single color that reflects your current emotional weather.
Write one line that begins with:
“Today, my quiet feels like…”
Let your brush, pen, or hands move without goal—just response.
End with a small symbol or shape that feels like a soft period.
This is not performance. It’s presence.
Stillness doesn’t mean absence. It means connection.
We often fear stillness because we think it means nothing is happening. But inside stillness, the nervous system resets. The creative mind opens. The emotional body realigns.
Slow living allows your inner world to catch up with your outer one. And art journaling becomes the bridge between the two.
Not everything needs to be solved.
Some things need to be seen slowly.
How this shows up in my studio
The color studies for my artworks of the Between Breaths series began in a sketchbook. Not a plan. Not a vision. Just pages of soft marks, unfinished thoughts, color washes, and questions.
Each of the ten originals carries that energy. The energy of a moment recorded, not fixed. A breath made visible. A mood held gently in pigment.
And from that space, came the idea to pair each one with an affirmation. A small phrase. A soft touchstone. A ritual to return to.
Why affirmations work in slow practice
When chosen intuitively, an affirmation becomes more than a thought. It becomes a companion.
In slow living, affirmations are not slogans. They are anchors.
They help us:
return to the body
mark the emotional state of the day
create sensory rituals for regulation
name the wordless in a single breath
They don’t tell us who to be. They remind us who we already are.
A gentle resource to support your practice
If you haven’t already, I invite you to download a free offering I created:
5 art prompts for emotional clarity
These prompts are simple, sensory-based, and designed to pair beautifully with art journaling or reflective sessions.
Let them support your return to slowness - without rules or rush.
A living ritual: Original art + affirmation cards
Each original artwork from this series is available in the shop. Each comes with a hand written affirmation card - so you can turn your space into a small sanctuary of intention.
You might:
place the card beside your journal
use it as a daily visual anchor
offer it as a gift to a client or loved one
let it become your ritual of arrival
You don’t have to live slowly all the time. But you can return to it - with color, with breath, with one quiet page at a time. Let art be your way back. Let your journal hold what you can’t yet name.
And between all that rush, may stillness find you again.
