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
Mari Grande is a Licensed Clinical Social Worker and a Creative Arts Psychotherapist in New York, New Jersey, California, and Florida with 20+ years of experience working with individuals and groups. She specializes in using creativity to help people heal from traumatic events.
