The Mandala Project: #11

Got a little carried away with this one. When I look at it now, it feels like a page in a child’s fairytale book, maybe because I trust a child’s sense of wonder to hear secrets being whispered to them by each of the pieces that came together to tell this magical tale.

Or maybe it’s because my ten-year-old self made it.

It began with a desire to pay homage to the Shooting Star, a wildflower that holds a special place in my heart. It was the first one I ever met, introduced to me by my father when we’d walk for hours on country roads getting from our farm to a neighbouring town. I don’t remember why we didn’t drive on those 20km errand runs, I think he just liked walking.

Because it’s one of only a few places in the forest where shooting stars thrive, and because it was a nod to my relationship with Dad, I felt called to create this one in close proximity to our (not so secret) secret “portal to magic heart-shaped rock stump”.

So it wasn’t altogether surprising that when it was almost done I was called to borrow (pilfer) the three biggest hearts from Dad’s altar.

They’ve since made their way back to the stump, but for a time they wanted to hang with the stars.

Gathering Forest Things Together

The flowers and the location were right at the entrance into the forest I walk in daily, so that was established up front. As Lily and I set off for our usual hour-long wander, I trusted the trail to reveal whatever else would inform this particular Mandala.

Traversing a well worn path up through the woods, I was engaged in the now familiar pattern of paying attention to things that caught my eye, but I was not expecting to come across an orange brick. It was five feet off to the side of a trail that I’ve walked hundreds of times. A brick. Middle of nowhere. For no apparent reason.

Just there, waiting.

My artist self lit up the moment I spied it, knowing it was the perfect complementary backdrop for the bright purple shooting stars. We packed it with us as we made our way back down to the bottom, collecting a few more interesting sticks and stones as we went.

I love how relational these Mandalas have come to feel. “Hey orange brick and sticks, let’s go to the treasure trove of hearts hidden near the creek, we’re meeting up with a few shooting stars to create something magical and surprising.”

Since beginning this project I’ve discovered a fabulous world of mandala makers out there doing incredible things with nature art. I’m so captivated by the symmetry of many of them, like the incredible work Day Schildkret is doing with Morning Altars or Jon Foreman with stone sculptures. And just yesterday I came across James Brunt, following patterns of sacred geometry with fallen leaves in a way that is truly breathtaking.

This project is a different animal. It’s a process of bringing unlikely things together and letting them reveal the organic relationship that exists between them, guided by something that doesn’t follow any kind of pre-determined structure.

It’s a bit like constructing a puzzle with no picture on the box to point the way, and trusting it’ll ultimately work out.

THE MANDALA PROJECT

I’m posting one new Mandala every Monday with a few words about how it came to be, and the challenges that arose or insights that emerged in its creation.

Check back here to see the new ones, or subscribe below if you’d like to receive them directly.

< Mandalas 1, 2 and 3, and the story of how the project came to life

< Mandala #10

Mandala #12 >