Today as I walk along my bank, I am determined to see more than the trees and the geese that I’ve reported on the for the past six weeks. There has to be more out here. For the past two months, I have blamed my non-discoveries on the cold weather. Haskell observed Tennessee in the dead of winter and discovered more than I could imagine. I start my search at a recently uprooted tree that I discovered last week. I thought the large trunk and stump would become a shelter for insects. But I was wrong. Or maybe I needed David Haskell’s magnifying glass. Either way I found myself asking the same question – where is everything?

I walk further down the bank, disappointed but not discouraged. I find a new spot after the creek bends, and try to observe my own mandala. I sit at peace for awhile. But then my mind starts racing, asking once again – where is everything? I feel as if I’ve been staring at a patch of ground for hours and haven’t seen anything.

Does this mean I’m disconnected from Nature? I feel disappointed in myself. In his prologue, David George Haskell states that “mandala” is another word for “community.” If I cannot explore this community, am I not a part of it? Am I just an imposter who takes Nature for granted?

Since I cannot properly examine a mandala out here today, I figure I would examine one more abstract – my life. The mandala can be a metaphor for anyone’s life. It is created overtime, following a pattern that cannot be seen until it is finished. Both are filled with minute details. And sadly, both are washed away after they have ended.

Through Haskell’s study of his Tennessee mandala, it has become apparent to me that everything within the community serves a purpose. From the lichens to the devil-like shrew, they are where they are supposed to be. If I think about my life as a mandala, then everything within my life must serve a purpose. As I start to think about what compromises my life, my head feels as if it is stuffed with clutter. There are things in my life that clearly have purpose – my education, my friends, my family. More logical and tangible are food, shelter, water. All of those are obvious items serving my purpose in life, and I do not need a magnifying glass to see them.

Then I take my mental magnifying glass out and start to examine everything else filling up my life. Soon material products are swirling around my head and I start to feel dizzy. Anything that I could buy from a big box store, I own. But why? In this century we are convinced we have needs that are really nonexistent by advertising companies and the culture that fuels them. My materialistic mandala is made up of numerous clothes, make-up, perfumes, shampoos, lotions. On a normal day I believe I need these things. When they run out, I run out like a zombie, and buy more. When my mandala is completed, will it be filled with minute details like how many bottles of lotion I have gone through?

As weird as this sounds, this is something that concerns me. I am not concerned because my mind feels cluttered, or because I am just now realizing how materialistic my life is. I have known for awhile but I’ve been in denial. Today as I contemplate what my mandala consists of, I have to admit to myself that there is no changing my mandala. It will always consist of materialistic details. I am trapped in this cycle. I am trapped by advertisements and the culture that I live in. I am trapped by peer pressure. If my friends are using products and buying new clothes every month, then I will too. I do not know how to stop. A mandala filled with beautiful colors, like the Tibetan monks, but for all the wrong reasons. T

This is a sharp contrast to the natural mandala Haskell studied, or even the ones out by the Brandywine that I have tried, but failed to study. These communities found in nature serve a purpose and come together to create something beautiful, something with meaning. If my mandala is the opposite of this, does that mean my life does not serve a purpose? Does that mean my life has no meaning?

I am aware of the cynical nature of these questions. As I sit in the dirt, watching and hearing the river flow by, I feel more disconnected to nature than ever. The most I can do is realize that one day my mandala will be washed away, absorbed into nature. The most I can do is try to make decisions that will give my mandala purpose in the world.