Creative Prompt: Circles of Color
A practice in noticing difference, wholeness, and belonging
This week I wanted to paint circles. This is mostly because one of my favorite Instagram artists talks about how much she loves circles, and when she’s anxious, she paints circles. They are also easy and pretty. And surprisingly meaningful, with no sharp edges, no clear beginning or end.
Today’s practice invites you to work with circles in a very ordinary way, and to see what they might gently teach you.
On a blank page, trace a bunch of circles in different sizes. You can use cups, jar lids, tape rolls, or freehand them if you like. Let them overlap or crowd one another. Then, color each enclosed space (each “piece” created by overlapping circles) a different color or choose colors slowly, one at a time, as you go.
There’s no picture to make, just shapes and color.
Watercolor Option
This is particularly fun in watercolor because you can watch the colors blend together or watch what new colors they make when they overlap!
Lightly trace your circles in pencil.
Using watercolor, fill each section with a different color or shade.
Some can be bold.
Some can be pale.
You can let colors bleed where they meet (wet on wet), or keep them separate (wet on dry).
Notice how the page changes as it fills.
Pause when it feels complete, not when it feels perfect.
Colored Pencil or Crayon Option
Trace your circles with pencil or marker or use this coloring page.
Choose one color per section, or rotate through a small set of favorites.
You can:
press hard in some places
color lightly in others
leave some sections barely touched
Wondering Questions
You might hold one or two of these gently while you work, or reflect on them afterward.
I wonder what it’s like to see many different colors sharing the same space?
I wonder if every section needs to be the same to belong?
I wonder which colors I’m drawn to and which I avoid?
I wonder how overlapping changes things?
I wonder what this page would say about community, or about me?
A Kid-Friendly Version
Invite kids to:
Trace lots of circles: big ones, tiny ones, silly ones.
Color every little space a different color (or just their favorite colors).
You can wonder together:
Which circle is your favorite?
What happens when circles bump into each other?
How many colors can fit on one page?
There’s no wrong way to do this.
A Closing Invitation
This is a practice of many parts making one page and noticing how boundaries and overlaps both create beauty.
When you’re finished, take a moment to look at the whole page. What would it be like to trust that there is room for all of this?
If you feel comfortable, I’d love to see what you create. When I share these prompts, I’ll always try to share what I’ve made too. Tag me on Instagram or comment below with a photo or reflection.
Making Space might mean Releasing
It’s the beginning of the month, and we return again to the idea of making space. It sounds simple, even inviting, but it is rarely actually easy. Making space isn’t just about clearing our calendars or carving out a quiet moment. Sometimes it asks something more costly: to loosen our grip, to release expectations, to lay down ways of being that once felt necessary but no longer give us room to breathe. Before we can experience deeper intimacy with God, we may need His help to notice what we’re still holding and what He is inviting us to lay down.
I had a humorous experience in spiritual direction last month that brought this home for me. As I was reflecting on releasing expectations I carry for myself, I remembered a time when God was gently showing me I didn’t need to do something. I was deep into Christmas pageant planning when it occurred to me that I should make cute programs to hand out before the show. I immediately sensed that this was an extra task I didn’t need to take on, but I resisted and made them anyway. They took about two hours to design, print, and cut. Pageant day came and went, and I had completely forgotten about them. Not a single person saw one or took one home as a memento. When I remembered this, I laughed out loud.
It’s a funny example, but it revealed something deeper in me. Even though I’ve grown in many ways, I’m still sometimes trying to prove myself. In making those programs, I wanted people to see that I was capable. This is where it gets tricky, because they would have been a sweet extra for the day, a meaningful keepsake for the kids. I wasn’t wrong to want to make something beautiful. But this is where discernment matters, because God sometimes invites us to stop, not because the thing is wrong, but because it isn’t required.
The issue wasn’t the action; it was the attachment. Releasing is hard work. It often takes more than one gentle prompting from the Spirit.
Here are some common examples of what we might need to release in order to make space for God, for ourselves, and for others:
Releasing expectations we place on ourselves
Releasing real or imagined expectations others place on us that are unfair
Releasing control and the need to manage outcomes
Releasing urgency, the sense that everything is pressing and must be decided now
Releasing certainty by loosening our grip on having the right answer, the right words, or a neatly wrapped theology
Releasing comparison (this one hits deep)
Releasing noise, both internal and external
Releasing the belief that productivity equals worth, or that there is an “ideal version” of ourselves we could reach if we just tried harder
Releasing our hold on self-protection, lowering the guard just enough to be honest with God, with ourselves, and with trusted others; letting tenderness exist without immediately armoring it
As we begin this month, perhaps making space doesn’t require a dramatic shift or a perfectly named practice. Maybe it begins with noticing, not just what we’re doing, but how tightly we’re holding it. The invitation may not be to stop doing good or beautiful things, but to release the attachments that weigh them down. We don’t have to loosen our grip all at once. We can open our hands just a little, trusting that God is patient and kind, and that the space created, however small, is enough for Him to meet us there.