A couple of weeks ago Margaret Simon, a gifted teacher, poet, and blogger, posted a photo of a monk in Croatia taken by fellow blogger, Molly Hogan. In her post, Margaret wrote of a monk she knew in her home state of Louisiana, Brother Anselm. Her post and Molly’s photo reminded me of a time long ago when I sat calmly watching a Buddhist monk create a mandala made of sand. The recollection came to me all at once, and I wrote it down in poetry form.
There are moments that we will never forget in our lives, some are traumatically stamped there, and some, like this one, are placed indelibly as a mile marker of hope. As I age, I find myself searching my memory more and more for those hopeful mile markers. The image is as clear to me as if it were yesterday. I can see the monk’s serene face, his wire-rimmed glasses, his smooth bald head, his tufted eyebrows, and his orange robes and brown leather sandals brushing the tiled floor of the school building. I wish I could remember the exact design of the mandala. I tried to draw it, but I could not replicate it. I remember the colors coming together and blending bringing peace and solitude to the lobby, where just outside the doors was a busy city afternoon replete with bus exhaust, taxis honking, and people rushing from one place to another. I searched for templates of mandalas that might have been similar in design but came up short. I could see the mandala I wanted to create in my mind’s eye, but I couldn’t create it with my hands.
Last weekend, we took a short vacation to Maine. I walked along the beach taking pictures of seagulls, shells, and beach pebbles. As I walked, I breathed in the salt air and began to relax: my shoulders dropped, my breath became slow and steady, I listened to each rolling wave. Then a smiled came upon my face. A sand mandala appeared before me. Just like that. I looked up at the deep blue sky and was grateful for this gift made from nature that someone had created for all to enjoy. I snapped some photos and continued on my way. I held a feeling of peace and satisfaction firmly within me as I walked. Mandalas are mile markers of beauty and symmetry in the world. They represent the spiritual and natural worlds working in harmony, which if we are quiet enough, we have the ability to see.
I thank her for creating this beautiful mandala.
Word Dancer: Literature, the Arts, & Education 
I’m happy to find that the photo inspired a memory and a poem. I have seen postings about monks doing sand mandalas that are intricate and temporary. What a beautiful sand mandala you spotted in Maine. Yes to finding more moments of peace.
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My favorite lines:
‘I watch him like im watching a living prayer’ and ‘I am inside a prayer with him.’ What intimacy you reveal!
I have a Mandela memory as well. After 9-11 a group of Buddhist monks worked over several weeks to create a sand Mandela in the Asian Art gallery in Washington DC. We happened to see them as they were almost finished. When done, they swept it all up and put it into the tidal basin, where it would travel out to the sea, spreading their prayer for peace and healing all over the world. Thank you for your piece, your poem, and for bringing that memory back to me.
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Oh my gosh – I love the image of the sand mandala being washed back into the sea. Beautiful impermanence!
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Joanne, beautiful post. I loved reading more about the poem I already had the joy of reading. “placed indelibly as a mile marker of hope” Lovely description of the mandala. The photo is beautiful too. I went to Instagram and saw another of @heyalicia.art mandala.
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The very lines Fran selected are mine, too, such beauty and calm. I watched a small group of monks create an intricate mandala here and truly, it took me away from this temporal realm. When they summarily undid all that labor, I felt the deepest sense of our transitory being.
People create labyrinth designs on our beach sometimes, truly stunning, to be walked in meditation beside the ebb and flow of tides, eventually to be wiped clean. Thank you for summoning these memories for me.
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Our world certainly needs more harmony and stillness, Joanne, as exemplified by the stunning mandala and your gorgeous poem. So many lovely lines, radiating from the power of prayer…I am thinking how we are all here to complement each other. If only…
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“If we are quiet enough, we have the ability to see.”
What a gorgeous ending!
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