by Heather Plett | Dec 29, 2011 | circle, mandala
the labyrinth in winter
First came fearless in 2009. I challenged myself to step more boldly into my life. I overcame my irrational fear of paint tubes, took a painting class, started doing yoga, exposed my vulnerability to the team I was leading, and got a few bruises.
Fearless was followed with the journey in 2010. I got breast reduction surgery and journeyed into a new way of living with my body. I took up running. I journeyed to hell and back with my beloved. I took a trip to Halifax that changed my life. And, most importantly, I left my full time job, started this website, and journeyed into self-employment. What a journey it was!
After two intense years, I wanted something lighter for 2011, so I chose joy. I sought out my joy people and made connections with incredible people all over the world. I traveled to Columbus, Ohio for another life-changing week at ALIA. I walked a painful 100 km and was reminded that pain is part of the path to joy. I taught my first Creative Writing for Self-Discovery class and had more fun than I’ve had in a long time. I fell in love with mandalas. I purposefully sought out work that brought joy to my life, instead of simply that which paid the bills. It was an incredible year.
And now it’s time for a new word.
The word that came to me around the time of winter solstice is… circle.
Circle means so many things to me.
Circle is as old as the world itself. In fact, circle IS the world.
Circle is sacred.
Circle is labyrinth.
Circle is the dismantling of hierarchies.
Circle is mandala.
Circle is community.
Circle is equality.
Circle is the seasons.
Circle is completeness.
Circle is play.
Circle is feminine.
Circle is an invitation to Spirit.
Circle is womb.
Circle is birth.
Circle is art.
Circle is conversation.
Circle is storytelling.
Circle is ritual.
Circle is social practice.
Circle is indigenous knowledge.
Circle is covenant.
Circle is council.
Circle is social movement.
Circle is dance.
Circle is learning.
Circle is strength.
In 2012, I want to seek circle in every way that I can.
I will teach the elements of circle in my upcoming group facilitation class, I will use it in my Creative Discovery class and other classes, I will draw it in my mandalas, I will nurture it in my relationships, I will welcome it into my rituals, I will invite it into my upcoming offerings, I will continue to study it, and I will honour it in all of the work that I do.
In honour of this choice, I am also making this The Year of the Mandala.
It is my intention to use mandala-making as my primary spiritual/creative practice, to remind me of circle’s place in my life. I will try to work on mandalas every day, and hope to have completed 300 mandalas by the end of the year. Most mandalas will be in my mandala journals, but some will be on my body, some might be in the snow or sand, and some might be made of random objects I come across.
I invite you to create mandalas along with me this year. I’ve created a Flickr group where anyone is welcome to share mandalas they’ve created.
p.s. If you want to learn more about circle as a path for leadership and community-development, I highly recommend the books Calling the Circle: The First and Future Culture
, and The Circle Way: A Leader in Every Chair 
. If you’re interested in making mandalas, I recommend The Mandala Workbook: A Creative Guide for Self-Exploration, Balance, and Well-Being
.
by Heather Plett | Dec 28, 2011 | birth, mandala
This morning’s mandala started with a dark circle at the centre. A black hole with no highlights and no intricate designs to lend it beauty… just void.
It felt odd to start that way. Usually my mandalas are infused with bright colours. Almost immediately, I found myself wondering how I could lend light to the darkness, beauty to the ugliness. I felt uneasy, not wanting the darkness to take over.
Around the edges of the circle, I started adding smaller circles in increasingly lighter, brighter colours – trying to redeem the darkness, trying to edge it toward light, trying to move on to colour, variation, and hope.
And yet, when I neared the edges of the paper with bright yellow bursts emanating outward, it didn’t feel right. The uneasiness continued. I closed my book. I didn’t like it. It didn’t feel like the place I’m in right now – neither the darkness, nor the feeble attempts at bringing in light.
After a bit of time, I opened my book again. Almost without knowing what I was doing, I picked up the black crayon and started shading over the coloured circles. This mandala was calling for darkness, not light. The light looked too garish against the dark – unwelcome in it’s boldness.
And then I knew what was emerging. Not a black hole, not a void, not an ugly place at all. Instead, a womb – a safe warm place for gestation, growth, and waiting for birth. Not unwelcome shadows, but rather the beginnings of growth. I thought back to the circular name-tags we were given in childbirth classes sixteen years ago – 10 centimetres; the amount our cervixes would have to dilate before we’d be ready to give birth.
This mandala was my birth canal, readying itself for the birth of something new.
It occurred to me how pertinent the birth metaphor is at this time of year. First we celebrated Winter Solstice, the emerging out of darkness into new light.
Then, in close succession, we celebrated the birth of Christ – the birth of hope, the birth of new life. Surrounded, quite appropriately, by our own families of origin, and, in particular, the women who birthed us into the world, we celebrate the hope of Jesus bringing grace and redemption through His birth. It’s a birth that changes us all, that shifts our paradigms and overturns our power structures.
Next weekend, we celebrate the birth of a new year – the turning of the calendar, a chance to start fresh.
Always, something is waiting to be born, and born again, and again. Sometimes we ourselves are in the birth canal, sometimes it is our dreams and vocations. Sometimes we are waiting, gestating, growing, and sometimes we are dilating, pushing, emerging.
The season of Christmas and the dawning of the New Year offers us an opportunity to reflect on what is waiting to be born for us now.
What has been gestating?
What is ready to emerge?
What will die if we don’t let it out of the birth canal?
How can we prepare ourselves for the birth?
As you prepare for the New Year, consider asking yourself these questions. Pick up some crayons and markers, create a mandala, and see what emerges. (And then come back and share it with us.)
It is my intention to use mandala-making as my primary spiritual/creative practice, to remind me of circle’s place in my life. I will try to work on mandalas every day, and hope to have completed 300 mandalas by the end of the year. Most mandalas will be in my mandala journals, but some will be on my body, some might be in the snow or sand, and some might be made of random objects I come across.