Karma Concentrate

Painting” with colored sand is one of the most exquisite art traditions of Tantric Buddhism, and the opportunity to view the creation of a sand mandala is one experience not to be missed. The Museum is privileged to have Tibetan and Mongolian monks from the Gyudmed Monastery in Mongolia in residence for one week as they create and ceremonially destroy a sand mandala. The mandala will be created over a period of seven days during which millions of grains of sand are painstakingly laid in place using hollow pipes called Chak-purs, through which the sand is vibrated into the design. When the mandala is finished it will be ritually dismantled during an impressive ceremony to symbolize the impermanence of all that exists. The grains will then be released into the River behind The Museum. - Museum advertising

On the Fringes
Standing on the fringes of a small crowd gathered around a colorful sand mandala, it suddenly occurred to me that I was now inhabiting my most recent "rejection dream". Not an impersonal hotel, but a museum full of ancient and modern artifacts was the setting (of course) and it wasn't a Christian gathering. A Buddhist monk encouraged the onlookers to pray for peace and compassion. But it felt strikingly similar. I was in the same white-walled place, facing the same direction (north-east, to be exact) and in the same context.

Think of It as Art
I was at once keenly aware that I couldn't fully inhabit this dream, either. My mind withdrew from participation but I enjoyed watching the monk, wearing crimson and gold robes, who walked around the mandala chanting and tapping cymbols lightly together and then destroyed the design.

Down By the Riverside
The crowd walked outside to the riverbank by the muddy water where the colored sand was tossed into the current. Downwind, I inhaled a lung-full, and wondered what sort of dye they used for the bright colored sand, and whether it was a carcinogen. It's like cremated remains I thought, as another cloud wafted toward me, leaving a thin layer of the powder which, after the bright colors were mixed together during the "destruction ceremony" became a uniform yellowish-green, which reminded me of the insides of nightcrawlers. Nightcrawlers with guts that leak out when you put a hook in them and slither around in your fingers.

All One
The rest of the ashes sank into the brown polluted river and were carried slowly downstream like some glowing radioactive algae headed for distant lands in search of beings who need peace and compassion. The idea is that the peace sand will float down the river and connect with other waterways and migrate into the ocean and become one with everything. Or Something. I'm not really sure, but it was a "happening" nonetheless. Impermanence. Death. Renewal. Peace. Compassion. Such heady concepts, I needed a rest. Just let me zone out.

Bad Karma
The throng walked back across the grass toward the museum where the monks, holding their pillow with the hat on it that covered the bowl that once held the mandala sand but which now held river water that was to be used in a later ceremony, reached the door to the building only to find it locked. "This is unseemly", I thought! Undaunted and reverent to the end, the believers continued their procession around the building and up the hill toward the front door.

People Suck, Especially the Guy Who Crowded in Front of Me to Take His Fucking Pictures
Cameras clicked, cell phones trilled, people milled stealing glances at one other and I noticed again that there sure are a lot of obese people in the world these days.

I May Not Cut it as a Buddhist, but I Sure Do Want Some of that Karma Concentrate