What I Learned From a Monk’s Eyes
A visual journey of creation <-> destruction
The theatre was filled with excitement. Film enthusiasts anticipated the 4K screening of Samsara. The conclusion of the theatre hours later was quiet and profound.
The film stimulated every part of me without a scripted word — a storytelling approach I have deep appreciation for. In fact, the brilliant soundtrack of the film is now the majority of my “Zen” Spotify playlist.
There was plenty of sequences and frames that will remain in my mind for sometime, but one left me with a sense of purpose/need/fate. It was a sequence involving buddhist monks in Ladakh, India. Perhaps it was my past travels to northern India, the dynamic colors in a cold atmosphere, or the deep concentration of the monks — both young and old kneeling around a symbol that deeply spoke to me.
That symbol was a Sand Mandala. The circular art-of-wonder was asking me to connect with it beyond my seat in the theatre. Little did I know it would come pay me a visit.
“John, some monks are coming to the Blanton Museum of Art in a few weeks. You should go and film it.”
A good friend turned an idle Tuesday into what felt like a launchpad to space — this feeling would later become accurate.
After a few emails and phone calls, I was granted access to document the live installation of a Sand Mandala. Even better, I was going to get to spend time with the monks — the creators of this magnificent symbol.
The Monks
I met the monks. The initial welcoming gestures were from another place, but it also felt like they were expecting my arrival. I wasn’t in Ladakh, but I was in a museum atrium that had the aesthetic of a spiritual ocean. The melting blues preserved the red clothing of these calm artists.
I finally decided to hit the record button on the camera, but I would enter a new mindset for the days to come. A mindset that I had never attempted in my days of documentary.
This time, I would let the Mandala be my guide.
The Process
The monks then spent days dropping millions of colored sand grains. The astonishing part is that they all executed it off of memory. The Sand Mandala was guiding them as it had guided me.
I was in a trance watching each grain live its unique life. They had a home, had a place in line, had their own personality, had their own speed, and had their own unknown place of delivery.
The grains’ harmony as a whole brought tears to my eyes. I was left gazing right into the center of this masterpiece. It greeted me like the ultimate host, and fulfilled my calling that had occurred in the film screening. I felt complete and connected.
The Conversations
After days of concentration, I had a good amount of time to talk to all of the monks. Full of questions and only asking a few, I wanted to prioritize listening in this moment of granted opportunity.
“…And even your eyes could be a Mandala.”
These words that the head monk would say to me as he looked right into my eyes hit my existence’s deepest quest.
Everything was making sense to me. I was more present than ever. I was in love with every vibration around me, and I was comforted to know that the Mandala was in the room with me — nourishing my soul with the most gentle hand.
However, I was soon to face a realization of endings. There was less than thirty minutes until my soul’s guide would be destroyed.
The Destruction
After a beautiful preparation ceremony, the emotional destruction began. In less than a few minutes, small lines would be cut, a brush would shape a symbolic spiral, and then the remains would be piled and returned to the earth again.
I was in awe. We had all prepared for this moment, but the short destruction produced a lifetime message for me.
It symbolized the impermanence of everything.
The Gift
I spoke with the monks afterwards to show my appreciation, inform them of my film-inspired genesis, and to know how I could continue to have this clarity that was so heavily present.
Like it was planned, one of the monks would grab my hand and give me a ring.
He informed me that the ring symbolized compassion. It was a material gift to act as a constant reminder of my realizations, but this wouldn’t make me happy. He made sure to clarify that I will only bring myself true happiness and then lightly said he had a REAL gift for me.
It was in the form of a question:
“Did you feel or hear the grains of sand screaming in panic or resisting the brush?”
I answered with a no. Expecting him to follow-up with another statement, he just looked deep into my eyes, smiled, nodded with affirmation, and then walked away.
The Realization
We are the sand.
We have our own colors, placements, happenings, and eventual endings.
We must work together, one-by-one, to form something that will call to others. This will bring clarity and a new slate for the next inhabitants to come.
You can see a short video of this experience here.
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