Journal

The Flower Mandalas

by | Mar 25, 2014 | Editorial

Many of my Journal stories begin with flower mandalas, most of which come from my poetry journals.
Whenever I begin a new journal, I go through a kind of dedication ritual. On the very first page of the new blank journal – each chosen with care to create the perfect marriage of pen and paper texture – I draw a circle. Beneath it I write my name and identification information. Then I number it: Book II or Book X or whatever number it is for my current series of poems – always accompanied by a record of the date.

Finally, I begin drawing the mandala. I light a candle, play soft music and, going into a meditative state, I draw with my non-dominant left hand within the circle. I don’t think about what I will draw; I simply let my intuitive right brain guide my left hand. And for some reason, my left hand likes inaugurating my journals with flowers and leaves – occasionally, even a tree. I think of these mandalas as mini-tapestries. I don’t know where the journal will take me, but I pray that I may create a rich tapestry of poems that both record and propel my life and spiritual development at this time.

When the mandala feels complete, I do one more thing: I number all the pages of the journal. As with drawing, this, too, feels like a meditation. I am claiming every page. No longer is this some crisp, anonymous blank book. It is mine and it is ready for my pen.

Now, I can begin writing.

Whenever I begin a new journal, I go through a kind of dedication ritual. On the very first page of the new blank journal – each chosen with care to create the perfect marriage of pen and paper texture – I draw a circle. Beneath it I write my name and identification information. Then I number it: Book II or Book X or whatever number it is for my current series of poems – always accompanied by a record of the date.

Finally, I begin drawing the mandala. I light a candle, play soft music and, going into a meditative state, I draw with my non-dominant left hand within the circle. I don’t think about what I will draw; I simply let my intuitive right brain guide my left hand. And for some reason, my left hand likes inaugurating my journals with flowers and leaves – occasionally, even a tree. I think of these mandalas as mini-tapestries. I don’t know where the journal will take me, but I pray that I may create a rich tapestry of poems that both record and propel my life and spiritual development at this time.

When the mandala feels complete, I do one more thing: I number all the pages of the journal. As with drawing, this, too, feels like a meditation. I am claiming every page. No longer is this some crisp, anonymous blank book. It is mine and it is ready for my pen.

Now, I can begin writing.

We use cookies to give you a better experience. Dismiss