The construction of sand mandalas has always intrigued me.

I feel very
connected to the artistry, discipline, and reverence exhibited by Tibetan monks
throughout the crafting process. In Tibetan culture, mandalas are a representation of the
universe. To me, mandalas are a measure of transformation, creativity, and innovation
and aptly represent, or illustrate my storyas it unfolds. I first learned about mandalas
during a research project about Indian history and culture. At the time, I had only looked
at mandalas through the lense of academia. They piqued my interest because of the
ethereality of the art. It is highly spiritual and symbolic, yet peculiar in the sense that
hours of intricate and passionate creation are destroyed after completion. I think of my
life up to this point is much like the construction of mandalas that have been swept
away time after time. This felt connection to the mandala and its themes, has gifted me
with a greater understanding of the delicate, fleeting and temporal nature of life and the
growth, pain and joy being of being present in the journey.Thus far, each color
represents a piece of my life, intense in its own right, intricately woven together to make
me who I am today. I think of this year as the completion of my first mandala: childhood.
My high school career has been about transformation. It started with a simple line of
sand, white and curved. It forms into a white lotus flower to symbolize all of the things I
still dont know. Green twists around the flower to symbolize growth throughout the
struggles Ive experienced throughout my high school career.For each day that passes,
more sand and a variety of colors are added to the work of art that is my personal
journey. In my freshman year, my parents divorced. In my junior year, my grandmother
passed away. I also joined the swim team and many other programs, I learned how to
drive, opened a bank account, and got a job. Each event has added vivid color to my
identity and emphasized my need for authenticity.
My parents divorced November 2013. Their separation was permanent, and we
all knew that it was coming. It was hard when my father moved out, but it taught me
about the hardships and uncertainty of life. It was a difficult transitional period, but
overall it was formative. It was similar to watching my fathers body be ravaged by
Multiple Sclerosis and his health deteriorate.For the first time in my life, I actually
understood the facet of adulthood that is about autonomy,responsibility, and
decision-making.
My grandmother passed away in September 2015. I was in a thrift store when my
dad called me to break the news. For a moment, everything completely stopped. The
silence pierced my soul. She was gone. Then came complete hysteria. I will never
forget the weight of that moment. For the first time, I experienced grief that only death
can make us feel, complicated further by an event that is so close and surreal, it stops

you in your tracks and shifts the way youview the world. Black sand spilled on my
mandala.The last time I saw my grandmother, we talked about my dream of becoming a
surgeon. I promised her I would go to college. Long before, I had already promised
myself that I would go to college- this experience only intensified my desire.
I stepped out of the box and I became more self-efficacious. I am confident and
understand my identities and how they all have made me who I am today. As time
passes, the mandala grows in size and I acquire more colors, layers of sand are piled
on, and I get closer to completion of my high school journey. For me, the circular
pattern and elaborate detail in my mandala represent the truths of life. Through the
process of exploring mandalas, Ive learned about who I am as a student and as an
individual. I know that pain is temporal and co-exists with so much more. I understand
that I am both the artist and the piece. I am growing in understanding of process of
building, co-creating and sweeping away to prepare for the next design- I am excited to
see what mandala I create next.