Mandala Mind: A Paradigm of Paradox
The mandala is a living being, everywhere ubiquitous through space and time and mind, growing flowing, being, simply Being… speeding, spreading, undulating… touching gentle fingertips to strings within the tapestry of light—each soul, each heart, each molecule of all-there-is. It fills the universe with the spirit of the dance, the inward/outward spiraling, unscripted choreography of destiny and chance as they unite careening through the starry depths of space… the edge of the mandala washing over everything like the ever-expanding crest of a joyous cosmic wave. Ever there the beating trancing irresisting rhythmic heartbeat racing to a finish that begins and ends between the instants of eternity, loving with compassion and enduring unawareness in a state of bliss and solitude and all-embracing gratitude. Soft surrounding silken are the arms of the mandala, hands that hold the frightened soul so tender and devoted. Reaching ever toward the center, thinking always of the lost eternal moment where the tale first began, where whispers of our Being-ness float off unfettered free… pondering the moment wherein all-that-has-been becomes all-that-will-be in the everpresentness of time. Rejoice reflect the movement of the spheres as all dimensions far and wide and ever-yet-to-be converge upon the bindu center sacred at the heart of the mandala.
The mandala is reverberation resonation when our senses touch the silvered surface of reality, when consciousness within and consciousness without encounter one another like swiftly passing comets in the night. It is a pattern that pervades and spreads and seeps within, infused in the essence of the everything yet flowing forth with no connections to the uneternal moment. The universal pond so still, so peaceful, reflects itself and magnifies the inter-connections and inter-relations among its uncountable elements, its sweet chaotic heart, its undivided self… the pond, so motionless, so egoless, mirrors all within its unobstructed and unbounded sphere.
Touch the mirror’s shadowed face and waves flow out as patterns lines eternal shapes and forms that reach from far before to far beyond yet all the while lie deep within—so dormant yet alive—and all these lines they breathe and live and glow with brilliant life unto the edges of the cosmic mind where lie the secrets yet untold, unknown, unknowable. The trails that they draw upon the dusty veil of space are the lines of the mandala reaching out across the heavens like the vibrations of a pebble dropped into the inner depths of self, whose impact grows and flows and permeates the cosmos with a vision hitherto unseen. This vision is a dream of Oneness cast upon the waters, drifting in and out unto itself like slivers of a shattered past, distant memories, dreaming of coherence and centrality, of a unified existence before the boundaries of awareness snared the universal and confined it to the psychaotic poetry of Mind. It is a dream of starlight and vibration, of darkness and vacuum and energy, of points and waves and particles that drift and collide and unite and transmogrify the hidden faces of the forever forgotten flavors of Being.
The mandala is a map on a parchment of dust, crafted with ink of unenvisionable hue… leading the sightless into landscapes unknown. It is a viewpoint blinded by brilliance, from above beyond before the everything that is not everything, the all that seems to be enough but in reality is not. It guides the un-observer to the end that has no end, the distant edges where to fall into the void means to land back in the center of the everything, the bindu that remains forever present and unreal. It is to fall into the illusion of Being, the ultimate truth of all existence that is no truth but rather an awareness of the boundaries that surround us. The mandala is a guide that speaks no words yet takes us to these edges, to the tipping point, and casts our spirit off into the bright eternal where the currents travel fast and free and merciless unto the afterness of space. It is a paradigm of paradox, where truths unfold into magnificent delusions, and behind every lie is a wisdom older than the most ancient of gods.
Gaze unto the pattern, walk the corridors and listen to the echoes of the ancients whispering tales of creation and demise, of hopes and dreams unrealized, of clarity and enlightenment and truth. See them as they wander, flying floating fleetly flowing through the cavernous spaces with their secret smiles of understanding, of perspective gained and illusions dispelled by the knowledge of the nurturing winds. See the mandala unite them, touching each in ways unique and universal, giving peace and strength to each, and growing in turn from the touch of their spirit, ever-expanding inward and outward in a deafening symphony of vibration and evolving ever unto itself to the rhythm of the original sound, of the expanding breath, the un-beginning of the Cosmos.
The secret memory forgotten in the dark recesses of time is that we are ourselves these ancient truths, these all-enlightened Beings… we hold the center that unites the bindu deep within, beyond our reach, beyond awareness, the point we hold within enfolds the All into the One so intimately, lovingly, undeniably eternal as the spirit that infuses our unimagined Self. We are the space between the stars, the cosmic dust, the pebbles at the bottom of the pond. We are the rushing water in the pond, the air and the fish and the Earth itself. We are the warm touch of sunlight on a single leaf. We are the leaf. We are the mandala that unites encompasses caresses everything, we are the Unity of Being, we are the truth that lies unspoken at the center that is not the center. We breathe, we think, we dance and love and spin through the hidden intricacies of space. We are kind and cruel, wise and foolish, enlightened and imprisoned. Yet we are none of these things, we are illusion and unreality, we are intangible potential. We are unrealized. We are the breath of the mandala, we are the blood of the mandala, we are the heart of the mandala. We are the mandala unto the eternal Self. And ultimately, gloriously, we very simply Are.
June 18, 2009
by Peter Patrick Barreda, material copyright 2009, all rights reserved