Mandala Meditation

Dressed in familiar traditional garb, a Tibetan Buddhist monk hunched over a square table in the middle of the glass-enclosed atrium of the Jepson Center for the Arts in Savannah, rubbing a metal rod he held in his right hand against the serrated surface of a long, thin metal funnel (called a chak-pur) in his left. As tourists of the historic district’s antebellum mansions entered the conspicuously contemporary structure to escape the sudden summer storm, joining those who intended to attend this event, the monk remained solely focused on task before him, despite the squeaking sneakers, increasingly audible chitchat, and camera flashes. The colored grains of sand flowed like liquid through the chak-pur (a result of the vibrations caused by the metal rod) on to the wooden platform, guided by the monk’s steady hand and concentrating mind.

After nearly 30 hours over several days, the group of lamas from the Drepung Loseling Monastery eventually completed the mandala, a remarkably intricate circular design composed of millions of grains of various colored sand. Once finished, it was destroyed.

The ancient art, called dul-tson-kyil-khor in Tibetan (literally translated as “mandala of colored powders”), is a spiritual practice, of course. The particular Sita Tara mandala, for instance, created by the Drepung Loseling monks during their week-long Savannah residency in June 2009 celebrates the female Buddha of health and longevity. The circular design (mandala is a Sanskrit word that means “circle”) can be seen to represent wholeness, oneness, and the infinite nature of the universe. The mandala also functions as a powerful meditation tool. The dismantling of the sand mandala—usually involving a ceremony during which, for purposes of spreading its healing powers, half of the sand is given to those in the audience and the rest is released into a nearby flowing body of water—serves as a metaphor for the impermanence of this life.

In the 13 months since witnessing the painstaking process, I’ve thought often about the creation of the enchanting sand mandala, its subsequent destruction, and what it all means, contemplating the important lessons all artists could draw from this sacred ritual.

While it might be difficult to comprehend and even accept, especially coming from a culture that views and values art as an object rather than an act, the notion of dismantling such a beautiful creation, the real beauty and creativity exist in the process, not the product. Forget about the end result, and immerse yourself instead in each moment of the creative process.

Worrying about whether your manuscript will be good enough to get published, wondering if your series of paintings will hang in that prestigious gallery, stressing about how your new song will be received by music industry suits, or guessing if your book or painting or song or any other work will sell well—it’s all just a waste of time and energy. Some people will love your work, others will hate your art, and most won’t ever read, see, or hear it. But that—money, fame, success—is not (at least it shouldn’t be) the reason you engaged in the pursuit of genuine artistic expression in the first place. You didn’t spend the uncounted hours and untold effort to have your book on the best-seller list, your painting in a museum, your song at the top of the most-downloaded hits chart. These are all false awards from a fickle public and capricious critics; the only true reward is the use of your own creativity.

I am not necessarily advocating the shredding of your manuscript after its completion, the burning of your colorful canvas, or the deleting of a finished track. I am not even proposing that you don’t seek to get published, sell your painting, or score a record deal. (There is certainly nothing wrong with trying to make a living as an artist.) I am merely suggesting that real, lasting motivation will never come from hunger for recognition or fear of failure. Sharing your art with others, if you so desire, has never been easier, thanks in part to the DIY movement and technological advances, with options ranging from blogs and self-publishing (electronically or in print) to online galleries and sites like Etsy to iTunes and Amazon. Invest all of yourself in the creative process rather than the eventual outcome. Create for yourself instead of trying to guess what some audience might want. Create not for a paycheck, limelight, or pats on the back—but for the health of your heart and the satisfaction of your soul.

It’s not about what you create but that you create.