Life in ... Mandala Painting

My child's uncle, my former brother-in-law, died two days ago at his home. B was spending the weekend with Dad, so they got the news relatively fast and made it to his house while his body was still inside (they were already in the car to go out). "When we got there, the police came out and said they were sorry for our loss. We didn't go inside." That's one image memory B keeps bringing up.

I made plans to go pick B up, but my older daughter Deren volunteered to go, and B agreed. I have a tendency to be too 'talky' in B's opinion, and the older sister would probably be of more comfort.

Once home, I figured B would head straight for the bedroom (and I was right), but I readied the kitchen table to paint. Maybe if we painted together, it would help. B is quite the little artist and there are a few creative projects we work well on and enjoy together, so I knew it could be comforting.

At the time I got the call, I was sitting on the bed contemplating mayhem. I may have been fired from my job - unless I misunderstood Friday's parting shot of "Enjoy your next life!" that my boss threw out the window as he peeled away in his truck, tires screeching. What I did know was that I wasn't given any work ("It's very slow." [texts from office]), and I was starting to settle into a small (possibly negative) thought loop of ... concern. I was home, not working when I needed to be.

The call from my ex turned my thoughts around fast. I was home, where I needed to be for my child. If there had been work for me, it would have been a battle to be able to stay home.

As expected, B rushed straight to the bedroom. "I'm tired. I can't talk right now." Sad little baby, with the red-rimmed eyes and tight voice. At 14, B has been fortunate to not have already experienced the death of a close family member. While it sucks to refer to this as the first time, it is what it is. We all go through it.

Two hours later, after my two check-in knocks on the bedroom door followed by a promise not to bother again with a reminder that I was 'here', B came out of the room and said only, "I'm ready to paint."

We'd talked about painting mandalas a few times. At Christmas, I received some dotting tools to make designing them easier, and I had them out on the table along with other supplies for painting with both acrylic paints and watercolors. Choices are sometimes good when you don't know what you want to do.

We were both quiet when we sat down at the table, only conversing a little about using the dotting tools for the first time. After painting quietly for about an hour, I suggested B call a friend and invite her over to stay overnight. R came over, and we all painted together. There was very little talk about Uncle Rich, but it was more on the lighthearted side - the good memories.

Mandalas are geometric figures that symbolically represent the Universe. When making them with different-sized circle tools, they are basically 'designs with dots'. You start with a circle center, then work patterns of circles around the center, alternating in size and color, and building on each dot with smaller, different colored circles on top. Dotting tools work like rubber stamps; you dip them in paint and dot them on the paper; the idea that using a tool would make neater circles. Should be easy, right? (I probably would have had an easier time with Bingo markers!)

Yes, it is easier than painting circles and dots with a brush. But if you have too much paint on the tool your circle will spread a little further out than you wanted. Too little paint (or too little pressure) on the tool and you don't have a complete circle. Improper spacing of the circles will throw the design off-center, painting a dot on a dot that was made with too much paint that's not dry will smudge the colors or pull up the bottom color, and if you have way too much paint on the tool (different paint brands have different consistencies) you will have a dangling line of paint that will smear across the design when you pull the tool away. And then because of 'wet dots' you may have to set the design aside to dry before you can add other colors on top of painted colors. These are all things I learned using the dotting tools. I made a bit of a mess, too.

While I was dotting - and learning those new issues - I was thinking. I was also cursing that even with a tool I couldn't make a fucking circle (that's a tongue-in-cheek reference to another blog, too), but despite that my mandala was coming out okay, and maybe even pretty (if looked at from a distance). And I began to see the similarities between what I was doing there and life in general.

The mandalas pictured above are mine, and technically it's not three mandalas but one at different stages of design. I was ready to finish it up (clean, neaten, and gloss) after the first picture, at the point I stopped at when B was done painting - yes, my decision was made partly due to the fact that some of my larger dots were wet and I couldn't yet paint on top of them. (Susie has no patience.)

Everything we do, every moment, is like one of those circles. Sometimes they are neat and fun, and sometimes they are messy and get all over the place (not so fun). Sometimes, we can't move forward with our lives because the paint is still wet, or because we have a mess to clean up first. Each moment holds a different color and vibration, and sometimes we go back to moments and add to them. The journey of life isn't summed up until the destination is reached and the design is finished. Then, one can take a step back and look at the whole picture and notice that even if all the circles aren't neat, even if the moments aren't properly spaced, even if all the colors are blurred ... the overall picture can be quite beautiful.

The kids went to bed, and I was on the phone a little while later when I heard sniffling and went to check. R was already asleep, and B was trying hard to keep the tears silent. I gestured silently for B to come out into the other room with me, and in five minutes we were both snuggled together on my bed and the grief came out.

Uncle Rich was a man with demons. When I met him 20 or so years ago his family relations were more strained and tense and continued to be so for almost the entire 10 years of my marriage to his brother. Adam loved his brother, it was clear, but maintaining anything resembling sane wasn't easy. Things had been changing these last 8 or 9 years since Adam and I split up. Uncle Rich was an active part of B's life, and although not everything I heard about was rosy, I no longer worried about her spending time with him as I had once upon a time. I never disliked Uncle Rich; but I was conscious that toxicity can spread and hurt other people. When I think of him, though, I think about the guy that was always smiling, and he did have a genuine smile. Even if I tried to think ill of him, I can't get past that smile that always seemed to be there. I probably wouldn't be able to stop myself from saying, "He was a happy guy" if you asked me about him.

Because I was no longer in the picture with that side of the family, I didn't think of how B was getting close to Uncle Rich - I mean, I was aware of it, but I didn't think about it. He came to a lot of B's plays and orchestra concerts, too. That's pretty much the only time I'd see him lately, but in thinking about it now I realize that I'd been seeing him more now than when I was married to Adam. Which mean B has, too.

And now, B missed him and hurt for him, and for Adam - especially after witnessing his face when he got the call. And for Nonnie, their grandmother (B's great-grandmother) that Uncle Rich lived with, who just celebrated her 100th birthday and that previous family jokes about her outliving them all just became more poignant, who is suffering guilt about not trying to wake him up sooner.

This all came pouring out. After midnight, after the tears and talk wound down, B was wound up and we went to the table to paint again.

Now I was adding more to the picture I decided I was finished with a few hours ago (the paint was dry - I could do more). I cleaned up some of the messier circles and added more colors ... and thinking again about how much like life this was, this one small activity. I would keep stopping to look at the overall picture and would go from admiring its beauty as a whole, to nit-picking about some little messy detail. Then I would laugh about the life comparisons thoughts I was having.

B was now dealing with the messy circles in life, and stuck in them while the paint is still wet. When it dries, she will be able to look at all of it and appreciate the tapestry that was there. I, too, am mired in the wet paint, but I know it will dry; I just have to be patient. (I'll try not to laugh at that.)

It was about 3 a.m. when B decided to go back to bed. I was back at another 'wet paint' stop, and thought once again that I was finished.

A few hours later, I woke up with the knowledge that there was no work for me today, either. Mondays are usually my day off anyway, but it was quite common to receive a call to help cover the early morning. I was at a bit of a loss; I knew B would have been fine alone with R for a few hours, so working would have been a good thing, especially when you are reminded that groceries and other things will run out. I know that there are other options 'out there' for me, and my hand has been forced into possibly planning for those sooner than later. Since my thoughts were negative and I was feeling pretty useless, I sat at the table and picked up a dotting tool. Only now, I was painting alone.

This activity was planned for B, but I realized I needed it just as much. The doodles I drew for my coloring book were not drawn for that purpose originally; they were my way of dealing with grief I was going through at the time. Being able to turn them into a book that could possibly help others comfort themselves was a bonus. Like doodling, painting mandalas - or painting anything - without a plan can be relaxing and calming if you go out of your way to make sure that if your thought loop is positive - or at the very least not negative. Reflective thinking can be helpful during thoughtless, repetitive action. Painting the mandala calmed and soothed me, too.

My thoughts went back to my life-comparison thinking. This picture could be my life. And it could be B's, and it could be Rich's, if you look at the three stages of it. B would be represented by the first, with the obvious first unsure stamps, newer messy spots, and a lot of room to build on. Mine would be the last, with a lot more messy spots, larger in size and a little more detailed, but still with room to build on. Rich's would have been the middle; slightly messy, very colorful, and while it could have been built on more it was still a standalone design - even if it felt 'unfinished' it didn't look that way. I noticed that each one, as a representation of each of our stages of life, was very beautiful as a whole, despite any messy, smaller details.

I am sorry for Rich and his family. I am sorry for B. I am sorry that we all have to go through this, to have to learn to work through unavoidable grief. I do know that it doesn't matter how long we are painting, or even how meticulous we try to be, we will mess up in some spots and be forced to clean up that mess, even when it means waiting until the paint dries to start. Sometimes just moving forward will require waiting for that paint to dry. But all of us, whether or not the design is large or small, intricately detailed or not, colored with every color or only just a few, all of us will have painted a beautiful life.

Rich's life was beautiful. The proof is in the people around him that love him and will miss him. He and I had our beefs once upon a time, and even my first thought of him is and will always be "he was a happy guy". I will remember his smile, and I will smile.



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Four years ago I wrote a book called "Zen and the Art of Coloring", a coloring book/journal made up of doodles I drew to color and words written to help nudge the reader out of their own thoughts so that the act of coloring would be more relaxing. I touch briefly on what I'm saying here now, but here I go into more detail - and show that I do practice what I preach!

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