Each individual grain of sand seemed to be the object of mindful concentration. Each grain seemed to matter, to deserve loving intention as it was placed into the mandala.
Ten monks from the Drepung Loseling Monastery in India, in exile from Tibet, visited the University of Puget Sound in Tacoma last week. For three days I watched and photographed them as they constructed a mandala painting of colored sand in the University’s library. Students, faculty and individuals from the community watched quietly. Seven hours on Thursday. Nine hours on Friday. Several more on Saturday. The monks put a large framed photograph of the Dalai Lama, the spiritual leader of Tibet, out on display. He too seemed to be watching.
The making of the mandala was an amazing thing to see. Each monk worked with a traditional metal funnel called a chakkpur while he moved a metal rod back-and-forth on the funnel’s grated surface. The vibration caused the colored sand to flow like liquid into the mandala’s design.
Though the weather outside was sometimes damp and the sky typically Pacific Northwest leaden, there were moments when the most incredible light filled the area where the monks were working. As fleeting and fickle as that light was for me to photograph, I realized that the sand mandala was equally impermanent.
The post (titled "Blessing and Destruction") below will explain what I mean...
