Draw no matter what

“I’m sending you out to find the greatest treasure in the world.”

Said a small boy, adjusting his short trousers, to a group of children in the middle of the building’s courtyard. He bellowed, summoning his “heroes” to take on a near-impossible mission. Anyone passing by would have seen nothing more than children playing, but for us (yes, I was one of those scruffy kids), we were in the court of a king, or at least that’s what our imagination told us.

“I, warrior of the House of the Owl, shall mount my white horse and set off at once on this quest,” I declared at ten years old, adjusting an enormous cape that existed only in my mind.

And so I spent many summer afternoons playing with my friends. Living in distant worlds. Sometimes lost in endless caves, other times searching for hidden treasures. Until the years went by, and adulthood began trying to convince me that these magical worlds were just child’s play.

While most of my friends stopped searching for the greatest treasure on earth, I carried on. Now I drew the adventures on sheets of paper, one panel after another in comic books. It gave me a lot of joy. I finished secondary school, and it was time to choose my career. How was I supposed to pay the bills by drawing?

The adult world started building all sorts of barriers and obstacles to silence my imagination. How do you choose between an artistic life, doing what you love but not having enough money to pay the bills, and a more financially stable life where you make art in your spare time?

That’s when I began to meditate and practise Sahaja Yoga. And if there was ever any doubt about which career to follow, Sahaja gave me the answer.

Through meditation, you can quiet your thoughts and, in doing so, reduce the influence that social or family conditioning can have over you. You know when your uncle says, “How are you going to make a living from drawing, boy? That guy who draws caricatures in the central square sleeps under a bridge.” Well, meditation makes your uncle shut his trap. And in that silence, you can connect deeply with your true self. And my self was crystal clear: keep your bum on the chair and keep drawing.

Well, that’s exactly what I did. And the treasure hunt in the courtyard carried on. I became a graphic facilitator and, together with my wife, founded a company called Visual Scribing. Drawing allowed me to translate many people’s imagination onto paper, and my own as well. I drew strategic diagrams for companies like Amazon. I travelled all over the United Kingdom, illustrating citizens’ experiences of their financial lives for the Bank of England. I created scenarios around the challenges UNICEF field agents face in their work, helping them reorganise their operation. And I kept telling my stories, I wrote and illustrated two books, A Girl in the Himalayas and New World, with more on the way.

And after all these years, I realised something. On the pages of my book, at the top of the Himalayas, I once again felt the joy and freedom that only imagination can give me. And I thought: little David found it.

“This is the greatest of treasures, my king.”

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