It was during the Autumn of '02 and the drums to war had begun. Cowboy posturing left outlaw guy in black hat, time to hide, to destroy evidence. I sense another Vietnam, another divisive occurrence.
Futility settles upon me like a veil, all cobwebby. "What's the point to this all? Do I desire to lend my energy to this madness? What's it all about, Alfie?" These and other questions do dust devil dances through my brain. Aaaaarrrrrggggghhh!
Meanwhile, a new exhibit titled, "Desire and Devotion" opens at the Albuquerque Museum across from work. On my next Wednesday lunch, I enter, welcomed into zen stillness. This oasis from outer rumblings is showcasing paintings, sculptures and other artifacts from Buddhist temples. All from one collector.
The lure to return was strong and deep. This I did every 3-4 days during the entire run.
One day, an announcement. Exiled Tibetan monk, Losang Samten would be arriving to create a sand mandala entitled The Wheel of Life. This experience I chose to seek out. I projected that this monk just might have it "more together" than me. I yearned to breathe the same air.
It's midweek of his visit and I arrive with a co-worker, Jessica. The Rinpoche is away at lunch. She and I settle onto a provided couch, she to sleep and I to read on more Tibetan culture.
Calligraphied on a banner hanging overhead is the following:
Just as a stone
is not moved by wind,
Neither are the wise
moved by praise or blame.
~Dharmapasada
Three quarters of an hour later, the monk returns. Making eye contact, he nods while noticing Jess asleep. He beams a smile, inclines his head towards her and gives me a thumbs up gesture.
I confess my first response was, "Damn, I'm here for me." Realizing how absurd I sound to myself, I breathe out frustration and judgement, returning his smile. He greets a few others in the hall before proceeding to his worktable.
The Mandala is 2 days from completion. It is multicolored. He explains the symbolism. Permission was granted by His Holiness, The Dalai Lama, to leave it up til the end of the show, rather than erasing it immediately upon completion.
He cradles a long conical metal cylinder, adds colored sand and begins rhythmically tapping the design. We, the crowd stand with a rope separating.. I am behind his left shoulder. While observing, I feel tension, fear and uncertainty start dissolving. In this same instant, clarity occurs. I grasp what I am and what to be.
I am a grain of blue sand in Spirit's mandala.
Nothing more, nothing less. One grain of sand, important to the whole picture.
An immediate sensation of warmth floods me, radiating out from heart chakra. I am joyous. As I offer silent prayer of gratitude, I recognize the true gift of the moment.
I am both creation and creator. Accepting my place in the scheme of things, I am granted the opportunity for overview. I am both perspectives simultaneously. I see from both grain's eye and the sky's.
At this precise moment, the monk straightens, stands erect, then turns looking directly at me and nods. The smile in his eyes acknowledges our shared secret joke. Grinning broadly, I bow in response.
Staying for maybe five more minutes, Jess and I then leave. All that afternoon was an inner glow of remembrance that we do receive what we need when we show up and ask for it. And I needed that instance of heartening to gently guide me through resignation and back to center. I would know myself as a stone not moved by the world's winds swirling.
And the winds of change are moving, make no mistake about that. We are rapidly approaching the completion of The Wheel of Life.
There is nothing to fear. We are but grains of sand, in many hues, that will be returned to Source. In ending there comes beginning.
Some have called our present age, the Kali Yuga.
The Mayans named it, The Fourth World.
Whether, it be Piscean or something else,
death/rebirth are ever present.
Meditate on Death, the 13th Major Arcana of the Tarot.
It is the time of initiation.
All is as it is, and we are continual.
2003
Futility settles upon me like a veil, all cobwebby. "What's the point to this all? Do I desire to lend my energy to this madness? What's it all about, Alfie?" These and other questions do dust devil dances through my brain. Aaaaarrrrrggggghhh!
Meanwhile, a new exhibit titled, "Desire and Devotion" opens at the Albuquerque Museum across from work. On my next Wednesday lunch, I enter, welcomed into zen stillness. This oasis from outer rumblings is showcasing paintings, sculptures and other artifacts from Buddhist temples. All from one collector.
The lure to return was strong and deep. This I did every 3-4 days during the entire run.
One day, an announcement. Exiled Tibetan monk, Losang Samten would be arriving to create a sand mandala entitled The Wheel of Life. This experience I chose to seek out. I projected that this monk just might have it "more together" than me. I yearned to breathe the same air.
It's midweek of his visit and I arrive with a co-worker, Jessica. The Rinpoche is away at lunch. She and I settle onto a provided couch, she to sleep and I to read on more Tibetan culture.
Calligraphied on a banner hanging overhead is the following:
Just as a stone
is not moved by wind,
Neither are the wise
moved by praise or blame.
~Dharmapasada
Three quarters of an hour later, the monk returns. Making eye contact, he nods while noticing Jess asleep. He beams a smile, inclines his head towards her and gives me a thumbs up gesture.
I confess my first response was, "Damn, I'm here for me." Realizing how absurd I sound to myself, I breathe out frustration and judgement, returning his smile. He greets a few others in the hall before proceeding to his worktable.
The Mandala is 2 days from completion. It is multicolored. He explains the symbolism. Permission was granted by His Holiness, The Dalai Lama, to leave it up til the end of the show, rather than erasing it immediately upon completion.
He cradles a long conical metal cylinder, adds colored sand and begins rhythmically tapping the design. We, the crowd stand with a rope separating.. I am behind his left shoulder. While observing, I feel tension, fear and uncertainty start dissolving. In this same instant, clarity occurs. I grasp what I am and what to be.
I am a grain of blue sand in Spirit's mandala.
Nothing more, nothing less. One grain of sand, important to the whole picture.
An immediate sensation of warmth floods me, radiating out from heart chakra. I am joyous. As I offer silent prayer of gratitude, I recognize the true gift of the moment.
I am both creation and creator. Accepting my place in the scheme of things, I am granted the opportunity for overview. I am both perspectives simultaneously. I see from both grain's eye and the sky's.
At this precise moment, the monk straightens, stands erect, then turns looking directly at me and nods. The smile in his eyes acknowledges our shared secret joke. Grinning broadly, I bow in response.
Staying for maybe five more minutes, Jess and I then leave. All that afternoon was an inner glow of remembrance that we do receive what we need when we show up and ask for it. And I needed that instance of heartening to gently guide me through resignation and back to center. I would know myself as a stone not moved by the world's winds swirling.
And the winds of change are moving, make no mistake about that. We are rapidly approaching the completion of The Wheel of Life.
There is nothing to fear. We are but grains of sand, in many hues, that will be returned to Source. In ending there comes beginning.
Some have called our present age, the Kali Yuga.
The Mayans named it, The Fourth World.
Whether, it be Piscean or something else,
death/rebirth are ever present.
Meditate on Death, the 13th Major Arcana of the Tarot.
It is the time of initiation.
All is as it is, and we are continual.
2003
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