Drawing is universal. As your pencil touches your paper, a direct conduit from your heart to the outer reaches of the universe is made.
When you trace the gentle texture of a flower's soft petal onto your paper, it is as if you have blown on the seeds of a dandelion with an eternal breath. The seeds have been sent.
Out there, far and away, others sense what you are feeling. Nothing is ever wasted. Nothing is ever lost. Each gesture is recorded into the universal soul as you draw.
Stroke your paper with reverence for each gesture is holy.
Dream Bird in Flight
This morning as I was coming awake, a bird flashed into my mind's eye. It was clear and boldly covered with black on white designs. When I picked up my pencil to draw the bird, though, it faded from my mind.
I tried to coax it back, but all I could see were little flits and parts of what I saw in my almost dream. As I kept drawing, though, the bird changed shape. The bold markings disappeared, the wings stretched out for flight and her tail spread out for balance as her head came up to look at me. There I was, eye to eye with a dream bird in flight.
Some shamans believe each type of creature has a spirit form. One mighty spirit that represents the whole race. Maybe what I saw, on the edge of sleep, was the Bird Spirit painted on a cave wall deep in my subconscious and its bold aboriginal markings were the secret symbols of its life force.
The lesson learned from this was to not grasp an image too tightly. Sometimes they are spirit forms that will lead on to many other ideas if you hold them like a seed in your fertile mind.
Drawing is universal. As your pencil touches your paper, a direct conduit from your heart to the outer reaches of the universe is made. 
This morning as I was coming awake, a bird flashed into my mind's eye. It was clear and boldly covered with black on white designs. When I picked up my pencil to draw the bird, though, it faded from my mind.
I tried to coax it back, but all I could see were little flits and parts of what I saw in my almost dream. As I kept drawing, though, the bird changed shape. The bold markings disappeared, the wings stretched out for flight and her tail spread out for balance as her head came up to look at me. There I was, eye to eye with a dream bird in flight.