Spirituality 101: What is a Mandala?
The word mandala is often translated simply as “circle”, but it actually derives from a combination of the Sanskrit manda or “essence” and la or “container”. A form of sacred geometry, such designs have long been used as a representation of the cosmos. Mandalas are also associated with recurring themes such as our spiritual journey, the cycle of birth and death, and the interconnectedness of all things.
In the context of an organized religion, a mandala can represent the abode of a particular deity or deities, thereby helping to bridge the divide between parishioners and Gods. For example, the Kalachakra “Wheel of Time” in Tibetan Buddhism presents a number of Higher Powers equally familiar to Hindus, Jains, and Buddhists. In more mystical interpretations, mandalas can even be viewed as an extension of the mind of a deity, or the deity itself.
Typically rendered as a gestalt of repeating colors and shapes, the basic form of a mandala is a symmetrical design with elements that tie the midpoint together seamlessly with the circumference. Depending on the artist and the intent, such patterns may be executed on paper, wood, stone, or cloth, or incorporated into a floor or wall. Some seem to have a centrifugal energy, pulling the eye from the center (the one) to the periphery (the many), while others are centripetal, drawing us inexorably inward. Regardless of the direction of motion, a good mandala serves to link micro and macro scales like a fractal, accommodating unity and diversity in a single image.
While many mandalas are entirely abstract, some recognizable forms do often share the space with geometric patterns, especially in religious designs. Sometimes the center is bordered with a graveyard or a ring of fire for example, representing the dangers that adepts must pass through before reaching inner truth. Snippets of sacred texts also find their way into the mix. A palace is frequently drawn at the midpoint, surrounded by gates, and further out, by one or more protective circles. Within the palace, one may find a thunderbolt (representing the male principle), a bell (representing the female principle), a wheel (representing the 8-fold path), or a diamond (representing clarity or illumination). There may also be a central deity, the One responsible for generating the Mandala, as well as a pantheon of subservient entities.
The impetus to create mandalas appears to be a universal phenomenon. They are common in Tantric Hindu and Buddhism, and also in Jainism, and can be identified throughout Tibet, India, Nepal, China (think of the symbol for yin and yang), Japan, Bhutan, and Indonesia. But sacred circles are not simply an Asian phenomenon; we need only think of the similarities to designs (especially architectural forms) at the core of European heritage — the labyrinths of the ancient Greeks, the layout of the Roman Pantheon, the round stained-glass windows and intricate tessellated flooring found in medieval churches. There are suggestions of mandalas in Celtic spiral designs and knot work, and they appear overtly in the mystic Christian tradition, particularly the illustrations of the 12th century nun, Hildegard of Bingen.
In the Americas, mandala-like patterns are seen in Navajo sand paintings, in medicine wheels, in dream catchers, in shield designs, and in the conical shapes of traditional dwellings. The Mayan Wheel of Time, representing the universe from beginning to end, could be seen as equivalent to a mandala, just as the Aztec tzolk’in calendar suggests patterns familiar from the Buddhist tradition, right down to the deity, the Sun God in this case, enshrined at the midpoint.
The recurring creation of similar artwork across continents and centuries suggests that mandalas have a transpersonal origin, an idea that has not been lost on writers in the field of psychology. After encountering the mandala time and again in the context of treating his patients, Jung came to believe that they are a part of our inherent makeup, an outgrowth of shared creative urges stemming from our collective unconscious.
In Jungian terms, the mandala works to organize internal energies, and put them into relationship with the Ego. In dreams, mandalas symbolize wholeness and the process of individuation. Jung theorized that such patterns arise in response to a disturbance of psychic equilibrium. This can happen for example when the Self is wrestling with a spiritual concept and can find no satisfying correlate in the world at large. In this sense, they are an expression of the very human need to impose order on chaos, to synthesize distinctive elements into a unified whole. They are ubiquitous because everyone in every culture experiences uncertainty, and orchestrating a universe in microcosm can help lessen anxiety, almost like calling into existence a roadmap to the unknown. It is no coincidence that in Asia, monks often drew mandalas on scrolls to take with them on their various physical and spiritual travels.
To put it another way, one could say that whatever our culture of origin, we are all hardwired to try to make sense of it all. And in doing so, it is only natural that we tend to gravitate to the familiar, soothing quality of forms such as the circle, as well as our experience as a species with more complicated recurring patterns in the world around us. Think of the artistry of snowflakes for example, the draftsmanship in flowers and seashells, and the stable, overarching cycles of the sun and moon and stars.
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In summary, mandalas have long been used by people to help make sense of themselves and their world through concentration, visualization, and meditation. First and foremost, mandalas are to be lived, i.e., interacted with through some form of creative practice. In Buddhism, this is exemplified by the ritual of sand painting, an ancient and unique form of performance art. Monks are taught to create the outline of a mandala by drawing lead lines with chalk, which are then filled in meticulously using a colored sand of crushed precious stones. Orchestrating a mandala in this way takes a team of monks days or weeks of coordinated effort, a process that brings together the “Five Excellencies” of (1) teacher, (2) message, (3) audience, (4) site, and (5) time. When the mandala is at last complete, a high priest provides a vivid lesson in samsara (impermanence) by breaking the gates in the image using a sacred implement, brushing the sand into a pile, and then collecting the detritus in an urn. Each participant receives a portion of the dust, after which the remainder is poured into a body of water, with the intention that the blessings of the mandala will be shared far and wide. In sand painting as in life, nothing lasts, save the experience.
