On Mandalas

The mandala is a circular design which represents wholeness, the Universe or the Self.  It has been used as a symbol for prayer, healing and enlightenment since ancient times, in spiritual and cultural traditions around the world. Navajo sacred healing rituals, Buddhist sand mandalas for peace, Hindu mandalas drawn to center a woman for the day, and labyrinths walked by Christian pilgrims for insight are some of the ways mandalas have been used throughout history.

Carl Jung, the Swiss psychiatrist, pioneered the use of the mandala to explore the unconscious aspects of his own and his patients’ lives. He wrote, “I sketched every morning in a notebook a small circular drawing, a mandala, which seemed to correspond to my inner situation at the time. With the help of these drawings I could observe my psychic transformations from day to day.” He concluded that the mandala is a universal archetype, a guide that taps into the unconscious, leading a person along the path toward wholeness.

It is in this sense that I began drawing mandalas in 2001. During a stressful time of transition in my life, I followed the suggestion to “draw my feelings” each day. Having had no formal art training, I traced around a dinner plate and drew my feelings intuitively, without thinking what the outcome should be. Instead of choosing a color intentionally, I let colors “choose me.” When I contemplated what then appeared on paper, I allowed the image to connect with events in my inner and outer life. I noticed that, over time, I gained insight into my life circumstances; I became more aware of my feelings by naming them; and I learned to be less judgmental, more accepting and more trusting of my inner process.

Over the years, this habit of “drawing my feelings” became a prayer practice, which continues to the present. I journal to get in touch with my inner state, identify current challenges, pray about them, create the mandala and conclude by writing the prayer around the image. This prayer often stays with me throughout the day.

Rose Amodeo Petronellad, a spiritual director, artist and retired minister in the United Church of Christ, will be showing a selection of her mandalas and other works in the Mary C. Daly RSM Art Gallery beginning June 1. A reception where you can meet the artist, view the artwork and enjoy refreshments will be held on Sunday, June 2, from 2-4 p.m. 

In addition to her artistic work, Rose recently published Honoring the Soul: Mandalas for Inspiration and Insight, available at lulu.com.  She grew up in Rocky Hill, Connecticut, and lives in Middletown, Connecticut with her husband. 

Eclipsing Hate

Viewing glasses flew off shelves as a complete solar eclipse swept darkness over much of the continental United States in August of 2017. Hardcore eclipse enthusiasts and casual observers alike stared into the darkened afternoon sky; many Muslims recited eclipse prayers together in mosques, homes and workplaces. 

On my way home that day, my eye caught a Cambridge yard sign reading: “Eclipse Hate.” My gut wrenched as I was taken — from the sweet afternoon memories of people marveling together with strangers on sidewalks, passing eclipse glasses back and forth with generous enthusiasm — to the darkness of the white nationalist, Nazi sympathizers with their tiki torches blazing, weapons menacing, swarming the streets and green spaces of Charlottesville, Virginia.

How can we, as individuals and communities, intervene in countering this destructive hate and fear that brews beneath the surface of our polity? How can we prevent it from again instigating violence and causing havoc? What can we learn from the peace activists and clergy of all colors and cloths who amassed a counter presence with prayer and song in a testament to the resilience of the human spirit? 

With the rise of isolationism, nativism, rampant fear-mongering, the spread of American-made weapons around the globe, and even the proposals from those in positions of power for increased militarization of our schools and workplaces, what wisdom can be derived from core texts, teachings and traditions? How do we understand our seemingly innate capacities for monstrosity? How can we overcome our more destructive collective impulses? What can help us bridge divides, counter hate, and stand up for those whose safety and security are most threatened? What interventions does the present moment necessitate? 

These questions are the heart of my work.

Celene Ibrahim, PhD, is currently the Muslim chaplain at Tufts University. She will be returning to Mercy by the Sea on June 15, 2019 to facilitate the day program, “Social Justice and Qur’anic Social Ethics: Contemporary Explorations.”  Learn more about her program.

In the Service of Love and Mercy Hospitality

This week is National Volunteer Appreciation Week. We will honor our 56 volunteers at a luncheon on Wednesday, April 10. But how can we fully express that volunteers are always needed and forever appreciated at Mercy by the Sea?

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Practicing Stillness in My Prayer Chair

I don’t recall when I first began sitting in my prayer chair early each morning. With the demands of four young children, most likely my practice was born out of necessity.  I needed quiet and peace before the many tasks of motherhood took precedence.

The chair is just an ordinary chair that over the years acquired meaning beyond just a piece of furniture. I don’t remember which child first named it the “prayer chair” or which one called the living room the “loving room” but somehow we all sensed the subtle field of grace that permeated the room.

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