January and the Power of One
Start the year with the energy of one. Explore the MARI Mandala, a brief drawing practice, and reflective questions to support unity, healthy boundaries, and healing.
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Mandala
December Reflections. Mandalas and the Return to Wholeness
As the year bows its head, reflection arrives like a quiet visitor. The days move quickly, yet my inner clock begins to slow. I listen more closely. I choose what matters. This year opened with a bright drumbeat. A new team formed around my work. Paint returned to my hands. I felt spark and flow. Then life asked me to tend what was tender. My mother became very ill, and our path turned sorrowful. Grief rearranged my calendar and my cells. My work changed. My energy changed. I changed. I remain devoted to healing the Mother Wound. I am leaning even more into the medicine of art therapy, mandala making, and intuitive coaching. I am now a Certified Intuitive Coach, and that training has woven a golden thread through everything I offer in therapy and groups. If you would like to hear how this looks in session, I am happy to share. Why mandalas in therapy A small story. My very first painting as a pre-kindergartner was a mandala, though I did not have that language yet. I called it a Turtle. I can still feel the easel towering above me, the colors singing, my four-year-old self stepping back with a grin that felt larger than the room. Pure exhilaration. The circle kept finding me. In undergraduate art school, I drew a series called Avocados, each with a seed or an opening at the center. In graduate school, my drawings leaped off the page and became sculpted circular forms. The shape of the mandala has been walking beside me for a long time. The MARI Mandala Assessment in my practice As an art therapist I grew curious about the MARI method, the Mandala Assessment Research Instrument created by Joan Kellogg. MARI describes a cyclical journey through twelve, sometimes thirteen, stages often called the Great Round. The map is influenced by Carl Jung’s work influences the map and offers a compassionate way to witness where we are in our process. In therapy, MARI can illuminate strengths, name transitions, and support clarity for next steps. December, Stage Twelve, and the return to wholeness Here we are in the twelfth month. In MARI, the twelfth stage invites a return to wholeness through acceptance. We soften our grip. We gather what the year taught us. We allow completion to prepare the soil for beginnings already stirring. A gentle mandala practice for this month I would be honored to witness what you create. You can send a photo of your mandala through my contact page or share it on Instagram and tag @creativehealingintegration. Circle of practice I will be opening a monthly circle that journeys through the Great Round together. Each month, we will explore one stage, create a mandala, and translate its symbols into language that supports healing and next steps. This is a sweet spot where science, creativity, and intuition braid into something quietly powerful. If that resonates, add your name to the interest list, and I will keep you posted. May this month bring you a gentle settling. May acceptance open the door. May your circle lead you home. Work with me I provide art therapy and trauma therapy in New York City and online. My approach integrates the MARI Mandala Assessment, expressive arts, and intuitive coaching to support nervous system regulation, grief work, and Mother Wound healing. If you are ready for a soft return to yourself, you can schedule a consultation, and we will begin. With care,Mari Grande, LCAT, ATR BC
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What Italy Taught Me About Trusting the Unplanned
A long awaited trip to Italy turned into a lesson in trust, creativity, and the quiet work of returning to center. Join me in The Mandala Corner this November. I had been planning this trip for months. A direct flight to Italy. An itinerary filled with highlights from Puglia, Naples, and the Amalfi Coast. Even our kittens were set. We found a kind and competent live in sitter. Everything felt beautifully aligned. What could go wrong At first, everything went as expected. The usual travel bumps, small delays, moments of adjusting to a new rhythm. All part of the adventure. Until day four. A message came from our cat sitter. One of our kittens was in distress. She took him to the vet, who quickly referred him to the emergency room. They did not know if he had ingested a toxin or was having a neurological event. My heart dropped. This was not supposed to happen. Our kittens are only seven months old. They are healthy, playful, vaccinated, and full of life. Suddenly one of them was fighting for his. He was admitted to the intensive care unit. He was limp, blind, and unable to stand or eat. Even the specialists were not sure what was happening or if he would survive. My dream vacation became a stress vacation. Jet lag, worry, and sleepless nights waiting for updates. By day six, a small miracle. He turned a corner. The vets said he could go home to be monitored. The relief was enormous. I am happy to share that today he is thriving. In fact, he is playing fetch with me as I write this. As for me, the exhaustion settled in. The sore throat and cough were not just stress. I had COVID. But that is not really the story. The story is about what happened within all that uncertainty. How life gently pulled me out of my linear plans and back into the circle. The Circle That Holds Between vet calls and naps, I found myself sketching mandalas. I began noticing circles everywhere. Church domes, tiled floors, and the petals of ancient mosaics. Circles within circles. No beginning. No end. Only balance, symmetry, and quiet containment. Each one seemed to whisper, You are held. The circle reminds me of the womb. It is that original place of safety and creation. It is also the place we spend much of our lives trying to understand or return to. When things fall apart, the circle invites us back. It does not demand control or answers. It simply holds what hurts until it is ready to heal. In the MARI system, the Mandala Assessment Research Instrument, rosettes and flowers appear in Stages 8 and 9. These are the stages of personal ripening and authentic connection. Stage 8 speaks to autonomy, will, and creativity. Stage 9 expands that energy outward into connection, contribution, and love. Italy showed me both. The joy of blossoming and the necessity of softening. Of letting go of what I thought I was there to do and listening instead for what the moment asked of me. When Plans Change Do your plans always unfold the way you hope Mine did not. It is okay to feel disappointed when life takes a turn. When you only have eight days to explore a dream destination, there is not much space for wallowing. I also worried that I might have unknowingly passed the illness to others. That too became part of the lesson. Not blame, but awareness. A pause. A breath. An invitation to sit with the unknown. Sometimes we are called to trust life. Not to like or fully understand what is happening, but to allow it to move us gently back toward center. Returning to Wholeness Everywhere I looked, Italy offered reminders of the circle’s wisdom. Rose windows in cathedrals. Halos in sacred paintings. The Eucharist. Even the crown of thorns. Each one spoke of wholeness. Wholeness is not perfection. It is presence. Even in disruption, life keeps inviting us back to that original shape. The circle that heals, holds, and reconnects. I will be exploring more of this in The Mandala Corner this November. If you feel called to return to your center, I invite you to join me. With care,Mari Grande, LCAT, ATR BC
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The Circle Within. Exploring Mandalas
As a therapist, I return again and again to the wisdom of circles. They are everywhere. The sun that rises and sets. The rings inside a tree. The iris of an eye. A circle has no clear start and no finish. It offers a quiet wholeness that can hold everything. When I rest inside this truth, I feel both comforted and connected to something larger than myself. Mandalas have become one of my most trusted ways back to that center. Healing rarely moves in a straight line. It is more like a spiral that circles inward and loops back. Each turn brings us a little closer to ourselves. Over the years I have turned to mandalas to organize scattered thoughts, to contain joy when it feels too big to hold, and to meet grief when words are not enough. When my mother recently transitioned, I reached for this practice in a new way. I began creating a series of small mandalas in a simple notebook I keep nearby. Each circle gave me a place to set down whatever surfaced. Sometimes the feelings were heavy. Sometimes they were tender. Sometimes they were simply confusing. Shapes and colors became a language for what I could not yet say. The practice did not erase the grief. It helped me hold it with more gentleness. You may know this feeling as well. Being pulled in many directions. Carrying emotions that are too big or tangled for speech. What might change if you imagined your life as a circle. If you placed something at its center, what would you choose. If your inner world spoke in colors or patterns, what would it say. The word mandala comes from Sanskrit and means circle. Across cultures and centuries this form has carried deep meaning. We see it in Tibetan sand paintings, in Christian rose windows, and in Native American medicine wheels. Carl Jung viewed mandalas as reflections of the self and as symbols of the psyche moving toward wholeness. Whether painted, carved, woven, or traced into the soil, mandalas help us remember our place in the greater whole. In a world that moves quickly and grows noisy, it is easy to drift away from center. Mandala making offers a way back. It is not about producing something beautiful or artistic. It is about presence. It is about listening for what wants to take form inside the circle. Sometimes this practice calms the nervous system. Other times it brings clarity or a simple sense of relief. Always it reminds us that wholeness is never lost. It may be covered for a time, yet it remains. If you would like to try, begin simply. Draw a circle on a blank page. Inside that circle let your hand move as it wishes. Lines. Shapes. Colors. Even scribbles. There are no rules and no right or wrong. Stay curious. Notice your breath as you create. See if something softens, even a little. Curious to go deeper This November, I am opening a small monthly guided mandala-making circle. We will gather to explore, create, and reconnect with your center. Each month, we will work with a theme and discover what emerges, both in the circle on the page and in the circle within you. Let me know if you are interested in joining! With care,Mari Grande, LCAT, ATR BC
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