Hidden at the center of Parent Weekend was the treasure of the mandala.
My wife and I drove to the college where our younger son is a freshman. Quite frankly, the agenda for Parents’ Weekend did not look promising – the obligatory address by the college president, the tours, long gaps in between.
One event in the afternoon did intrigue us – a Buddhist ceremony of the mandala. The college was hosting a group of 11 Tibetan Buddhist monks from the Drepung monastery, founded in Tibet in 1416. About 250 of the monks escaped the 1959 Chinese communist invasion of Tibet. Today’s monks-in-exile strive to educate North Americans on the teachings of Tibetan Buddhism, including the principle of non-violence.
Approximately 400 students and parents crammed into the small room to witness the religious ceremony. At the center of the room was a large table on which a mandala — a large circle of millions of grains of vibrantly colored sand shaped into intricate, repetitive, and symbolic patterns — had been constructed. The mandala is traditional Tibetan art, perhaps the equivalent of a detailed, symmetrical stained glass window.
Earlier in the week, the monks had consecrated the area with ritual dancing and chanting before beginning the painstaking task of creating the mandala.
For hours each day the monks devoted their prayerful concentration to building the mandala. The finished product was amazingly alive. Think detail. Think bright colors. Think interlocking patterns.
The monks made their way through the crowd to the center of the room. They wore sleeveless burgundy robes and bright yellow half-moon headdresses. The monks alternated between a rhythmic, other-worldly throat-chanting, and playing liturgical music on drums, horns, cymbals, and bells. What came next was shocking, even though we knew it was coming.
One monk moved closer to the table. He was carrying a large brush that resembled a wide paintbrush. He brushed at the mandala, and the design was gone. All that was left was a pile of sand. The monks then gave small packets of sand to all those in attendance, and processed to a nearby river, where they poured the remaining sand to symbolize the sending of healing into the world.
The dismantling of the mandala symbolizes a key principle of Buddhist belief: the impermanence of life.
Christianity also teaches us to avoid becoming too attached to the material world, which shifts as rapidly as grains of sand, and to stay focused on spiritual growth and service to others.
Around the same time, my wife and I spoke with one of her colleagues, a bright, friendly, energetic man of 35. He told us that he was tired, because he was up much of the night before with his 3-year-old daughter. She wasn’t sick; she just wasn’t all that interested in sleep. From 2 to 4 a.m. he was trying to calm her down, since he was very interested in sleep.
You can always tell the parents of pre-school children. They have heavy eyelids and may be irritable due to sleep deprivation, but are moving frantically to cram work, child-raising, and household duties into a 24-hour period. If you want to drive them wild, just repeat the mantra, which I recall being told to my wife and me 18 years ago: “They grow up so quickly.” At the time I wanted to reply: “Prove it.”
Time has proven it. “All things must pass” cuts both ways. Our friend’s sleep deprivation is not destined to last forever. Hopefully, his three daughters will grow into healthy teenagers and talented young adults. Impermanence – change – can be good. Sure, something is lost – the innocence of childhood, but something is gained: the adventure of adulthood.
The Buddhist monks dismantled the mandala, but only after devoting hours of loving attention to creating it. Both activities were meaningful.
Listen to the advice of the ancients: Age quod agis – “Do what you are doing.”
Don’t lose the present by yearning for the past or longing for the future.
When it’s time, build the mandala. When it’s time, let it go.
(Pankratz is a marriage and family therapist for Catholic Charities Milwaukee regional office.)
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