Inspired by the momentum of Austin Kleon’s newest book, we’re channelling the beginner mindset this month, to tap into some childlike wonder and wisdom. How to: Take Yourself Back.

Writing, processing, documenting, getting it all down on paper, is not just route to your younger self, it’s how to take yourself back in the sense of reclaiming part of you that might have got lost along the way.

You’ll Need:

• A sheet of paper
• A chunky coloured pencil or felt-tip or brush and ink

Step-by-step:

Take your writing implement of choice, and, starting at the top of the sheet of paper, begin with ‘Dearest you…’

Now, it’s all very well for me to set down such an instruction without some kind of help to ease you in. My suggestion is that you write this letter using your non-dominant hand, which can be unnervingly awkward to begin with, but somehow taps in to an innocence that overrides current judgements – you can’t possibly write beautiful script with your opposite hand, so you don’t even have to try, (unless you’re ambidextrous, in which case write with both hands at the same time.)

Write a letter to your inner artist, the one who’s unimpeded by expectations or comparisons, who gets excited about the patterns of raindrops on windows, or what’s growing in a crack between bricks, or what your voice sounds like with your head in a bucket.

And reaching back in time to a place of unadulterated freedom, send a message to that being, asking questions, checking your memory, imagining what advice they might have for you.

Rather than airing my emotional laundry in front of you, this example is deliberately brief and simple. If I was doing the exercise in private, I’d write with a pen, or much smaller brush…

If I don’t want anyone else to read what I’ve written, I find it helps to merge each word with the next and with the line above, so that it becomes a mass of texture; only you know that it has meaning. And really, the process not the product is what’s important here.

Keep to just one side of the paper, so that the words can be folded up safe inside.

When you’ve signed off with an affectionate endearment, and the ink is dry, turn the sheet over.

For a bit of free-style liberation, decorate the reverse side with a pattern – dots, stripes, squiggles, whatever.

Then we’re ready to fold!

With the writing side uppermost, take the top lefthand corner and fold it down to meet the long side. Open it out again.

The take the top right hand corner and fold that down to meet the long bottom edge.

Flip it over so the pattern is showing.

Using the point where the creases meet as a guide, fold down a strip from the top, right on the place where the diagonal creases dissect each other.

Like this! Open it out to check yours looks the same.

Now get your fingers under the crease you’ve just folded, and draw the two sides down to meet vertically in the middle. That’s hard to explain, but the creases should help you…

Hopefully it’ll look like this.

Fold in the itty-bitty triangles at the bottom.

And then tuck them back up underneath with a reverse fold.

Then take the bottom left corner and fold it up to meet the top point.

Like this! You also happen to be using the diagonal fold as a guide. Ah origami! So neat.

Tuck the triangle underneath the horizontal line.

Repeat on the other side.

And here’s the finished pocket envelope, keeping safe that letter back to yourself.

Get the full motivational pep-talk about creating like a kid directly from Austin Kleon! Here’s the link to the Don’t Call It Art: Book review...and find a discount code there too!