“Trickster”
THE MANDALA PROJECT - How it came to life
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The Mandala Project: #5
The short version:
Found a new winged wood friend. He took off for a day but found him again this morning. Trickster.
The long version:
A ground rule I follow most of the time is that the things in the finished mandala are found on the day they’re made. There’s an energy that coalesces as elements are gathered that fuels and informs the creation.
But occasionally I make an exception if there’s a piece I know I want to use and it doesn’t come together on that day. I’d discovered this super cool bird-shaped piece of wood a couple of days before and had been carrying it with me, wondering how it would come into play.
On this morning, just after leaving the house I realized I didn’t have it with me. Dragged Lily dog back to get it from the front entry (no small feat—turning toward the house two minutes out the door is a clear ‘no’ for her).
Not there.
Had one more idea where it might be—at yesterday’s mandala spot. I’d been thinking of incorporating it then, perhaps I’d left it behind.
As I was making my way over to check, I was aware of the sinking, hollow feeling of having lost something that I wanted. Something I needed to make cool art. Something precious. I was also noticing that the thing itself that I’d lost was not entirely precious (it was just a piece of wood). It was my idea of it that made it precious.
That opened a rabbit hole: What if it’s my story of loss that I’m actually attached to? What if that’s what’s precious?
“Loss is bad.” No curiosity, no other possibility. Done deal. Precious orientation, don’t want to loosen my grip on that. I’m committed. I’m manufacturing an aversive relationship with loss and then devoting myself to it.
Had not ever considered this.
So I held space for it, and pivoted. New start. Begin gathering what will inform today’s mandala. Let go of the previous great plan, and the idea that it was ideal.
But I was still a bit attached to my missing bird friend, and was paying attention to my brain scanning, seeking, pursuing things. If not the bird, then it has to be something else just as good. My focus was rigid, controlled and narrow.
An “acquiring” orientation often kicks in during the process of collecting what will be included in that day’s mandala. If I’m able to catch myself, I try to toggle out of it and engage my heart to perceive what wants to capture my attention, what’s calling.
When I can land in that space, I get that I am not the sole engineer and architect of these glimmers of mystery, I’m in a collaborative dialogue with the creative field.
Another theme is that often when I’m first encountering and gathering creative raw materials, things feel somewhat flat and uninteresting. I’m oriented as ‘Liz’, gathering ‘things’, and can’t really imagine how this stick, this rock and this pine cone, all seemingly unrelated, could actually become something connected, lovely and captivating.
But as I trust and pay attention, a powering up of sorts inevitably kicks in and an idea begins sparking. Today it was an image of a triangle of stones (and sticks it turns out) with something in the centre.
Bird?… Nope, boo…it wasn’t at yesterday’s locale. But as I kept moving - dada! - I found it! At a place I’d stopped and put it down to take a photo.
So glad we found each other again feathered, wood friend—I knew you wanted to play.
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.
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< Mandalas 1, 2 and 3, and the story of how the project came to life
