The Therapeutic Beauty of Drawing Collections: A Meditative Practice for Sensitive and Neurodivergent Minds

Autumn themed illustration with leaves, chestnuts black and white

Illustration with black background of different species of mushrooms

Illustrated montessori inspired clothes with Italian names written beside items

Autumn inspired illustration featuring a pumpkin, some mushrooms and leaves, a pen, a notebook and a

Drawing collections is a special activity

Drawing collections have always been a special part of my life, especially during hard times. There’s something quietly joyful about starting a sketchbook or zine with a simple theme—maybe leaves, small daily rituals, or memories—and watching it grow one drawing at a time. For me, it’s not just about creating images; it’s about creating a calm, intentional space in my day—though my neurodivergent mind doesn’t always allow me to make it a daily practice.

For highly sensitive people (HSPs) and neurodivergent minds, drawing collections can be a gentle, grounding ritual. A single drawing can soothe, but a series transforms the act into a rhythm. Each repeated shape, line, or motif becomes meditative—a soft loop where the mind can rest. I often find that as I move through a collection, my breathing slows, my nervous system unwinds, and the outside world fades just enough for me to feel centered.

Collections also give a sense of continuity. In a world that often feels unpredictable and overstimulating, returning to a familiar theme or motif feels like stepping into a quiet, safe corner. Themes offer a container for creativity, and the repetition of small, intentional acts becomes deeply restorative. Over time, even simple objects—a cup, a branch, a window—gain emotional weight and beauty when seen as part of a larger series.

Creating these collections is also a way to witness growth. I notice how my hand changes, how my ideas evolve, how small mistakes turn into new discoveries. It’s a process that teaches patience and presence. And when I look back at a finished sketchbook or zine (or the several started and abandoned), I feel the same calm reflection I experienced while making it.

For sensitive viewers, collections carry this same meditative energy. They invite slow looking, mindful attention, and quiet appreciation—a small refuge from the rush of modern life.

If you’re an artist, a doodler, or someone seeking a restorative ritual, try building a drawing collection. Let it be imperfect. Let it grow naturally. Let it be your quiet, grounding practice.

Because the true beauty of drawing collections lies not just in how they look, but in how they help you return to yourself—one small drawing at a time. And by the way, they help you develop your style and your technical skills. You will find yourself and your creative side.

 Love, Micol