The Center in Mandalas

Circles appear in nature, in the sun, moon, stones, caves, flowers, and so on. Human beings have learned to draw circles, perhaps imitating the forms they saw in nature. A circle can be created with a single flourish, a stroke of the brush. This is an important meditative action in Zen Buddhism. The resulting empty circle is called an "enso." The more common way to draw a circle (without a paper plate!) is by establishing a point to become the center of the circle. Using this center as an anchor point, a string, stick, or other instrument is swung 360 degrees around the center to draw a circle. This necessary action in the creation of a circle has become intensely layered with meaning. For example, in a large circle, a person may stand on the center to draw the circle. Thereafter, the center point becomes cognate with the person herself. The surrounding circle can manifest the universe of which the person is a part. Even looking at a smaller circle, the artist can identify with the center as if they were standing there. Therefore, the centered circle can help the artist feel a part of the Cosmos. This establishes a line of thought whereby the center of the circle can also be thought of as the Center, the navel of the world, the Oomphalos where creation manifests, where all that is enters into being. 

Many legends and folktales describe the birth of a people as emerging from such a center (a cave, an underground spring, a mountain). So, the reverence for caves and mountains among ancient peoples can also be considered a focus on “centers”. People began to build structures to emulate such natural sites. The ziggurats of Iraq are stepped mountains. They are also prototypical 3-D mandalas. To mount the steps of the ziggurat is to move closer to the center of the mandala. We see similar designs in the great mandalas of India and Tibet. The message seems to be: the center is a point of perfect alignment with the powers that be, i.e., the Cosmos. Mandalas are apparently built to commemorate such an experience, and also as a guide back to that experience.

CG Jung built on the Eastern traditions in establishing his concept of the psyche (which is illustrated as a mandala). The center in Jung’s schema is the Self. So, one way to interpret mandalas is that the center symbolizes the Self. However, it is more complicated than this, because Jung opined that the whole mandala also exemplifies the Self, as well as all the psychic elements being arranged by the matrix of the Self: ego and other archetypal elements.

I personally believe that the design construction of a mandala can flow between having a visible center and having a non-visible center. Just as a center point is necessary to draw a circle, I believe that a circle establishes a center, even when you cannot see the center. It has to do with the way our brain organizes visual gestalts, or patterns. In creating mandalas you may emphasize the center or not. Depending on your goal for your mandala work, you might establish a visible center or not. I prefer to let people decide for themselves about whether to make a center point or not, so as to have a more natural expression of what they are experiencing at the time.

The center of the mandala is very important.

Emptiness, Migraine, and Me

As part of our exploration of emptiness, the teachers at Drepung Loseling Monastery in Atlanta invite us to think about our self, asking such questions as, What is my self? Where is it located? Is it in my body? Is it in some part of my body, such as my hand? Is it in an organ, such as my liver, heart, or brain? I have found my self is elusive and impossible to locate. It seems devoid of any independent existence I can pin down.

So, you are wondering, what does this have to do with migraines? Well, I have had more migraine headaches than I would like during the last 6 months. I can usually tell when a migraine is coming on. I gain a couple of pounds overnight as my body retains fluid and waste. Sometimes I experience certain visual effects. Anxiety may go up, energy goes down. So in August, when I noticed these things happening, I chose to be very observant of the migraine process, from the view of emptiness of self. The first thing I noticed was that with emptiness of self, the pain was not a direct threat, insult, or injury to me, but merely an interesting phenomenon that depended on other circumstances for its existence. I began to note the chain of events leading up to the headache.

What I learned was that tightness in my shoulders was an important generator of the headaches. The tightness was somewhat related to stress and tension, but most of all it was sore muscles following my workouts at the gym. Second, I noticed that I was feeling thirsty. Very thirsty. So, based on this new awareness I did something different. I stopped my activity, took some Tylenol to ease the post workout muscle tightness, and sat down to relax. I gave my full attention to releasing the muscles in my shoulders, arms, and legs. A warm pack on my shoulders helped. And I drank water until I was no longer thirsty: two glasses, followed by another glass an hour later, and even more the next hour. I did not read, watch TV, or listen to music. I closed my eyes, put on my eye shades, and imagined my shoulders becoming soft and loose.

 I took these actions in a mildly detached way, not out of anxious desire to relieve the headache. This helped me stay calm as I put each different measure in practice. I was freed from the stress of hoping for a desired outcome. As I relaxed, I pondered the new (to me) idea that these things leading to a headache were not some terrible, awful, irritating development, but merely happenings in an interdependent chain of events unfolding according to the law of cause and effect.  I was merely substituting different elements in the chain of dependent arising. And the headache that was arising reversed its trajectory, and quietly faded away.

Ironic how becoming accustomed to thinking of my self as empty of independent existence has helped me develop better self-care. That is an outcome I was not expecting. Also, as I deepen my understanding of the ideas of emptiness and dependent arising, I experience more and more a sense of lightness and freedom that is quite pleasant, sometimes even blissful.

Lesson 10 million and 1, and counting: our mental attitudes have a profound effect on our sense of well-being! 

July 2013 Mandala

Today I created the mandala for July. I arranged most of the stuff I collected during my walks around the block on a blue board, and began to systematically attach each piece. The bottom layer was a tattered advertisement for July 4^th sales, which I coated on both sides with matte medium. On top of that, a brown square of Masonite from down the street. On top of that a strip of black roofing shingle intersecting a slice of black rubber fan belt formed a cross. I cleared out the holes my husband had already drilled in the board, punched holes through the layers of slick paper with an awl, and ran tiny colored telephone wires through to secure a wooden handled object (egg beater? kabob skewer?). Then I warmed up my hot glue gun and attached bits of tar paper, snack packages, a dental floss holder, sticks, a metal washer, cigarette package, and a number of things I don’t know what they are. In the center: a small green slab from a computer with soldered points like gemstones.

Continuing my reflection on “dependent arising” as I worked, I made a discovery! Even though this loosely constructed object made of unrelated fragments challenges the notion of “object”, parts of it still had to be firmly attached in order for the piece to take any form (even temporarily). The necessity for firm attachment, even in this ephemeral object, gave me the “ah ha!” moment. I realized that firm attachment does not negate the view that all things are empty of inherent existence.

The aspiration to ”be free from attachment that holds some close and others distant” has led me to be a bit wary of intimate connections with people, I now realize. Deep emotional attachments are subject to the same realities of dependent arising as everything else, of course. Nonetheless, such attachments are necessary for families and friendships to survive and thrive. Knowing that these attachments are appropriate when life calls for them frees me to care deeply for the ones I love in this lifetime.

Mandala Project 2013

Yesterday I washed all that I had gathered on my walks for the July mandala. Washing these dirty, broken bits of paper, metal, plastic, and wood unexpectedly took on sacramental significance. I felt intimately connected to the individuals who had carelessly let the things drop, thrown them away, or unknowingly abandoned them. The shambles collected on my studio table made me aware of my own fragility. But for the mysterious life that animates my body, I would be like these fragments: just substance dissolving. This was not a morbid thought at all. In fact, it washed me into knowing how embedded I am in the cosmic rhythms of all that is. I was filled with a light, fluid, joyful sense of being: part of an eternal process ongoing from beginingless time. Closely following this epiphany I remembered the Buddhist belief of dependent arising that has become meaningful through this ongoing mandala project: all things depend for their existence on other things.

Receiving the Call

 Meditations on “Annunciation” seen in the Uffizi Gallery, Florence, Italy

Walking through the Uffizi Gallery last month in Florence, I was stopped in awe by the sight of the “Annunciation” by Leonardo da Vinci. In heavenly shades of pink and blue the painter’s delicate yet carefully structured style illustrates the moment Mary is receiving the message that she is to bear a son—and not just any son--she is to bear the Son of God! The angel kneels before Mary, gently poised as if about to take wing. Mary is shown quiet, calm, and deep in thought. The space between Mary and the angel seems charged with portent, both dividing and joining the two figures.

What struck me about this beautiful painting is Mary’s serene composure in the face of such momentous news. The first time I learned that I was pregnant, I felt elated, pleased, and excited. I also felt a moment of panic. How could I, I wondered, after a few short months, deliver a complete, miniature human being from my own body? I experienced The Call to do something beyond anything I had ever accomplished and I was bewildered, confused, and scared. Well, in due time all came to pass. And I was turned inside out by the experience. After a while I began creating mandalas, and life gradually took on a deeply meaningful new rhythm.

We all receive The Call when we are challenged by life to respond with abilities we may not even know we possess. Hidden in our unconscious, accessible by untried neural pathways, we have not yet claimed these abilities as part of our self-awareness. Carl Jung wrote about this unconscious part of our psyche as a matrix of potentials which we are drawn to discover and live out. Life calls us to this inner work. We respond in our own way. We may lean into trust of the mysterious human wisdom imprinted in our mind/body. Or we may respond out of terror or disgust at the strange call we receive. We may fight the message, or shape it to our own grandiose ends, disowning the mystery from which it emerges. Those who perpetrate violence and terroristic acts may be responding from their fear of an unfamiliar call. Most of us rise to the challenge, discover and use hidden strengths, and in the process become more humble, creative, tolerant, wise, and loving: in short, better human beings.

How will you respond the next time you get The Call?