When Life Colors Outside the Lines

It’s currently the holiday season, and I am sitting here, feeling blessed to be sharing these moments with my children. The days are full. The house is loud. And yet, there are small pockets of stillness that can bring us back to ourselves—mindfulness moments that gently remind us how to keep living in the present moment.

I had the mandala book out beside me, and I was colouring quietly, allowing myself to slow down. It was soothing in a way I didn’t expect. In the background, the kids were playing, and even with all the movement around me, I could feel myself settling in. It grounded me. It brought me to a calm place—one of those rare moments of human awareness where you realize you’ve been rushing, and you don’t need to. I was at peace and everything felt right.

I started the page with ease and comfort, sitting beside my daughter as she worked on her crafts. There was something peaceful about doing it together—being in the present moment, side by side, without needing anything else. At some point, she chose to help me too. I was delighted and smiled with my heart as she joined me.

Then, as I continued with my practice of mandala creation, my son—who is 2 years old—joined in. He didn’t ask. He didn’t plan. He just grabbed a colour and made his mark. And there it was: beautiful, wild, unfiltered expression. I’m sure you can find his work, gracefully splashed in blue. It was imperfect, and it was perfect.

In life, our journey and intentions are not always in a straight line. We set out with hopes and dreams, pushing forward to conquer this magical thing we call life. Yet, unexpected circumstances come into our lives and steer us in different directions. Sometimes it’s frustrating. Sometimes it feels inconvenient. And sometimes, if we soften enough to see it, it becomes exactly what we needed.

There’s a lesson in that for all of us—especially going into 2026. This year, a lot will happen to all of us. Some of it will be beautiful, and some of it will challenge us. But if we remain rigid and set in our ways, we limit our experiences in life. We limit our growth. We limit what we’re able to receive.

When I look at that mandala now, I don’t see a ruined page. I see a mirror. I see self awareness. I see the delicate dance between control and surrender. I see a quiet invitation to increase consciousness— not through grand gestures, but through daily choices: to soften, to breathe, and to allow.

To sum up this blog, something very special happened because I chose to be flexible. I chose to let go of what I thought it should be. I chose it to be free, and I allowed the universe to let the magic unfold. That’s the strange beauty of life: often, the moment you stop gripping so tightly, it gives you something better than what you planned.

To my surprise, as I left for the day and came back, I saw that the adjacent page had a quote and a design that felt like it belonged beside the mandala I had “messed up.” It was as if the book itself was completing the message. That small, unexpected alignment brought so much joy to my heart.

It reminded me that the real practice isn’t just colouring inside the lines—it’s learning how to live in the present moment, even when life colours outside of yours. And maybe that’s what expanded consciousness looks like in real life: less perfection, more presence.

I wish you all a happy 2026, filled with so much unexpected magic and experiences.