When I was younger, my notebooks were never just for taking notes. They were filled with curling vines, stars with too many points, crooked houses with little puff chimneys, and tea cups with floating flowers. I doodled in the margins because my hands couldn’t sit still and my mind loved to wander. Somehow, that scribbling made the words stick better, and made the world feel softer.

Now that I’m older, I notice those blank margins have started to disappear. Everything is typed. Clean. Efficient. Notes are digital, outlines are templated, and daydreams are politely edited out. But oh, how I miss those tiny drawings, those aimless trails of ink.

Doodling wasn’t just decoration. It was thinking. It was daydreaming with a pen in hand.

When the Pen Knows Before You Do
Doodles appear when you’re not trying too hard, when the conscious mind takes a step back and lets your fingers say what they want. I never planned what I drew. A page might start with a single leaf, and by the end of class, I’d be looking at a whole garden.

It was messy. Beautifully pointless. And it made the act of learning, of listening, even of waiting, feel like it had texture.

Mid-Sentence Wandering
Have you ever been in the middle of a sentence, either writing or listening, only to find yourself far away? Not distracted exactly. Just gently floating. You blink and realize you’ve built a whole scene in your head, a little world you didn’t mean to visit. That’s dreaming mid-sentence.

I don’t think it means you’re inattentive. I think it means your imagination is alive and well. It means you haven’t locked all the doors to wonder.

Making Space for Scribbles Again
Lately, I’ve been reclaiming the margins. I bring a journal with me and give myself permission to draw nothing in particular. A cat wearing boots. A broomstick with lavender tied to it. A jar with a moon inside. The drawings don’t need to be good. In fact, they’re better when they aren’t.

This little ritual has become its own form of meditation. It softens the edges of my thoughts. It brings back something that adult life has tried to streamline out of me: a bit of whimsy, a bit of wandering.

Why It Still Matters
In a world that’s obsessed with productivity, doodling feels quietly radical. It doesn’t serve a grand purpose. It doesn’t need to be monetized or posted. It simply exists, proof that your mind is still curious, still free enough to make something for the joy of making.

So if you find yourself scribbling flowers in the corner of a grocery list, or sketching stars while on hold, don’t rush to erase it.

You’re not wasting time. You’re remembering how to drift.

Take a Moment to Scribble and Dream

To go along with this post, I created a whimsical little coloring page filled with stars, teacups, moonlight, and cottagecore charm. You can print it and color it as-is…or, if you’re in the mood to create your own version, I’ve also included a semi-transparent version perfect for tracing.

Light a candle, pour some tea, and let your pen wander. No rules, just cozy creativity.

-Autumn