This is the second week I have been able to participate in yoga therapy at the women’s shelter where I’m volunteering. A yoga instructor comes in once a week and provides classes for the different age groups of children who reside there. Since I have been working closely with three 14 year old girls, they asked the instructor if my co-volunteer Ariel and I could join in the yoga class.
We start off the class by chanting “Shalooooohm” and taking deep breaths. The instructor is a super calm, super kind woman with great flexibility, strength, and a gentle touch. Sometimes the girls don’t take the yoga very seriously, or they are self conscious, or both. Sometimes they don’t want to do certain poses because they’re worried they won’t be able to, or because they’re 14 and everything is hard when you’re 14.
After about 45 minutes of yoga, the instructor pulls out some pieces of paper with circular patterns drawn on them and some markers and crayons. These are the materials for the mandalas.
There are three rules for the mandalas:
- Do not compare your mandala to anyone else’s mandala
- Do not speak when working on your mandala
- Finish whatever you started--even if you make a mistake, find a way to make it into something beautiful. Don’t crumple up the paper and start over.
I asked the instructor why they color in mandalas. Mandalas have many different meanings and they can represent different things (thanks, Wikipedia https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mandala). This is what the instructor emphasized to me:
“Tibetan monks spend hours and even days creating intricate sand mandalas. These mandalas have many levels of meaning and are very beautiful. Then, in a ritual ceremony, the monks destroy their work, brushing the sand away or letting the wind carry it off. This represents the impermanence of all things. Everything has a beginning, a middle, and an end.”
On my program, we talk a lot about sustainable social change. How can we make a lasting impact? How can we continue to help people after our six weeks in Be’er Sheva are up? How can we bring this home to our own communities, and continue it? How can we empower people so they can then empower themselves? How can we teach a man to fish instead of just handing him something to eat?
Sometimes, though, sustainable change cannot be a reality. Families leave the shelter unexpectedly, before we are able to leave our mark. Six weeks flies by and we are on the move before we can see the impact of our work. We are interacting with people with problems outside the scope of our ability and training, and we must leave it to the social workers and the counselors, and hope that our simple act of loving them will matter in the long run.
The mandala reminds us that it is still worth it.
It is worth it to create something beautiful. To work hard, very hard, to do something. Even if that something will be carried off by the wind or destroyed in a brief moment. Everything has a beginning, a middle, and an end. And that’s okay.
Since making that first mandala, I am not so disheartened. When we were weeding a community garden last night, I was not sad that the weeds would grow back by next week. When we baked cookies with the girls at the shelter, I was not sad that they might not remember how fun it was later, on a rainy day. When I gave the girls encouraging words, I didn’t worry that they might not remember it when they’re older, when it’s time for them to stand up for themselves and believe in themselves.
Because the garden looked beautiful last night.
And we laughed so hard and shrieked with delight when the cookie batter flew everywhere.
And for that moment in time, the girls know they are smart and that they matter.
My legacy will be that I leave no legacy. I won’t know if I mattered. Sustainable social change may or may not happen, and it may or may not have something to do with me. And that’s okay.
Another good informational website on sand mandalas: http://www.yowangdu.com/tibetan-buddhism/sand-mandalas.html
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