Meditation in Process

 

My mandala painting has become my meditation in process.

Every time I am working on it, a thought comes up that leads to a new little insight.

The last few days I had been looking at my mandala, not feeling very excited about it. There was something about the colours, that made me a little uncomfortable.

I first should share here that I am a person that does not mind change, but I really like balance and symmetry.

I’ve never liked a-symmetrical tops, or hairdos. One-sleeve tattoos are tough for me too. It doesn’t have to be two identical tattoos, but please, both arms, or none. I always start to feel top-heavy or lopsided myself, when I see someone heavily tattooed on just one side of their body.

I know, I should mind my own business.

Well, this mandala is my business. Mandalas are great for me, they are symmetrical in all directions! Peace for my mind, when it comes to the shapes. But then I also have s strong sense for colour, and my need for balance comes back in the way I get uneasy when colour distribution is out of balance.

One single colour, or all hues of the same colour, that’s fine.

But when more colours are used, for me the balance only comes when the whole colour spectrum is represented somehow.

The three base-colours are red, yellow and blue. So if there is red and blue, I have the urge to add some yellow to create the balance. This could also be a yellow mixed into the red or the blue, coming out as an orange or green, but there has to be a form of yellow.

So the last few days, I felt that the colours of the mandala were out of balance. Too much green and blue, compare to the reds, I now realise. I felt uncomfortable with the whole mandala. It didn’t feel balanced.

Today I was putting in a new colour. And all of a sudden the mandala felt right again. There was a balance in colours, and in light and dark as well. And in big and small-sized shapes. Thick and thin contours. Phew, I felt much better.

Of course, when I will be adding another colour, and new shapes, the whole thing might feel out of balance again for a while, until another colour or two will bring back the equilibrium.

It’s a process.

And there was my lesson of today: it’s a process. And in a process, there are highs and lows, there are moments things seem all to be in harmony and balance, and other moments when things are in upheaval, out of balance, uncomfortable. Or, things are great in one area (shapes) but not in another (colours). In other words, it can never be perfect all over and all the time. It’s a constant shifting, but with persistence and patience it does get better bit by bit.

Hmmmm, this sounds suspiciously similar to life, doesn’t it? It’s a constant meditation in process.

Happiness is an inside job

 

 

We all like to have a view from our window, our balcony, our porch. 

Spaciousness is good for the soul, I believe.

To grow mentally and emotionally, we need to open our mind. “Broaden your view, extend your horizon”, they say, when someone seems stuck in life.

This is much easier when you have a good view than when you’re staring into a dead-end alley or up to a blind wall.

It might be one of the reasons why people love watching sunsets or sunrises, since it always involves wider horizons, offering a broader perspective.

So when I was confronted with a newly constructed blank wall without a single window right in for of my little house, I felt my mind narrowing, my heart closing.

I had a hard time not feeling a little depressed and invaded.

There is something about walls without windows, that makes them extra imposing, almost unfriendly. Nothing inviting about a blank wall, right?

It was just a big empty wall. Lifeless.

Then a friend suggested painting a big mural on it, with lots of colour. Something fun to look at. Now there was a great plan. Even better: she’s an artist, and said she would love to paint that mural for me (I am not a painter, so I would need her to do the job for me, I thought then).

 

 

 

 

How to start the New Year in a mindful way

 

I never make New Year’s resolutions. I don’t believe in them.

Saying that you want to do something is very easy. Doing it is the hard part, and most of us fail.

Especially when our brain is still fogged with heavy alcohol clouds, the intention we’re trying to set with our resolutions might not register in our brain as a non-negotiable new behaviour.

Many people say that the way we start our day is crucial to how our whole day will evolve. I’ve experimented with it quite a bit and firmly believe it’s true.

For years now I’ve been in the luxury position of having about four hours each day between waking up and starting work. Four hours which I can use exactly as I like. No kids, no partner, no commute either, just me and those 4 hours.

By trial and error I have learned that the way I spend those hours can make or break my day.

The things I do each morning, set the pattern for the whole day and make me do more of it during the rest of the day. If I indulge in rolling over, my whole day seems to be lazy and I don’t find energy for anything. If I first read for an hour, I end up reading all day. If I get active straight out of bed, I run around full of energy doing things all day. If I find my focus and inspiration with meditation and writing early in the morning, my whole day seems to be inspired and focused and flowing with ease.

Last year, around this time, when people started talking about New Year’s resolutions, I realised that I could apply this principle of “setting” my day to the New Year as well. Instead of just setting an intention to do certain things in the New Year, I decided to “set” my year by very consciously filling my first day of the year with doing things I find important for my well-being and growth.

We all know there’s a significant difference between thinking or saying something, and actually doing it.