Persona in Progress

I didn’t expect a sheep-shaped pencil to spark a reflection about bias, brilliance, and how often we overlook the things that matter most.

But this Easter weekend — between misty mornings, family firesides, and a colouring session with two small humans — it happened…

The past weekend was a much-needed escape from the corporate jungle — a return to serenity, stillness, and reflection.

I spent the greater part of Easter weekend with my extended family at the Vaal River. My sister-in-law had invited us to unwind at a lovely holiday home, and I was more than ready to say yes.

We woke up to a misty Saturday morning, packed our wellies, coats, and jerseys, and set off. When we arrived, a roaring fire and big smiles welcomed us. I was especially looking forward to spending time with my niece (aged 6) and nephew (aged 3). Every time I’m with them, my perspective shifts. Children have an uncanny ability to find wonder in the everyday.

I had packed a few necessities to help me relax:

• My adult colouring book and pencil case
• A book that had been on my TBR list since December 2024
• A few board games
• Fluffy shoes

As the afternoon wore on, I found myself pulling out the colouring book and settling onto the couch. Within minutes, the kids were crowding around, begging to join in. I agreed — under a few conditions:

• We would choose one page to colour in for the weekend
• We all had to share the colouring pencils
• We had to figure out how to sit around one page and colour together

The rules were accepted in a rush, and we began our masterpiece.Everything was going smoothly… until we all fell in love with one particular pencil — a grey one with a little sheep attached to the end.

At first, I thought the appeal was simply the wobbly sheep. It was cute and bobbled cheerfully as you coloured. But then I noticed something else: the pencil itself was different. The quality of the lead (or graphite) was far better than the others. Whenever someone used the “sheep-pencil”, colouring became effortless. Smooth. Almost meditative.

That simple grey pencil — plain, unassuming — turned out to be the star of the show. Other pencils might’ve looked prettier, but none of them felt as good to use. And of course… I couldn’t help but reflect.

How often do we judge things (or people, or experiences) by their exterior?
How many times have we overlooked depth, ease, and joy because something didn’t look “special” at first glance?

The sheep-pencil reminded me that what matters isn’t always the flashiest or most colourful thing in the box. Sometimes, the most quietly powerful tools — or people — are the ones that surprise us, move us, and stay with us long after.