Twenty-sixth Mandala – A greyscale Life Mandala

Twenty-sixth Mandala – A greyscale Life Mandala

From white to black and in between a scale of greys.

From light to darkness, all that is in between is also part of who I am.

Life sometimes is a rainbow, but sometimes is made of different tones of grey, but beauty and appreciation can be found even in the darkness and in the greyness if I learn to live and befriend them.

There can still be beauty in what can appear to the naked eye as the ugliest or most boring landscape.

I often fail to accept all parts of myself. I repeatedly try to ignore the darkness and the various tones of grey, naively pushing them away from my awareness for as long as I can. But they cannot be ignored for long and the longer I avoid to face them the harder is the struggle when the time comes to face them because my own life will not allow me to hide them away forever. Some time ago I learned to pretend to be different in a desperate search for approval and integration. The reality of who and how I am cannot be denied for long eventually the effort to hide from myself becomes too hard and a vicious circle of numbing and self-loathing starts. I forget that to be whole, I need to reunite all parts of myself including the darkness without letting it destroy the light and the colours that are also alive in me. I often forget that there is a sense of freedom in being open and accepting that my life is imperfect and that perfection like control is an illusion.

Recently, I sat with my darkness. I had a liberating and hard conversation with it. It was an intensely private and painfully embarrassing honest conversation. I brought my dark and grey corners into the light and for once I let go of all pretences.

Now, for me, maybe, it is the time to just relax into the now as it is, to accept that maybe full clarity and meaning is not possible right now, to learn to love my life as it is right now and only focus on being fully present.

Maybe soon it will be the time for start a search for a more fulfilling and colourful life.

Sometimes I need to accept that my best is not so inspiring and it is still ok.


The Guest House – Poem by Mewlana Jalaluddin Rumi

“This being human is a guest house.
Every morning a new arrival.

A joy, a depression, a meanness,
some momentary awareness comes
as an unexpected visitor.

Welcome and entertain them all!
Even if they’re a crowd of sorrows,
who violently sweep your house
empty of its furniture,
still, treat each guest honorably.

He may be cleaning you out
For some new delight.

The dark thought, the shame, the malice,
meet them at the door laughing,
and invite them in.

Be grateful for whoever comes,
because each has been sent
as a guide from the beyond.”


Twenty-fifth Mandala – A Nostalgia Mandala

Twenty-fifth Mandala – A Nostalgia Mandala

It is a Nostalgia Mandala, it contains some of the colours of the summer holidays of my youth in Salento:

The different tones of pink for the flowers of the oleanders that flourish easily there along the roads, by the sea and in gardens;

the intense yellow of a summer Sun that burns hot, proudly alone in the clear blue sky completely free of any cloud;

the green of the sea close to the shoreline progressively darken into blue as the sea deepens and becomes open and appears limitless;

different tones of grey, ivory and brown for the local traditional walls that separate the different plots of land, made of stones held together by nothing else than their clever disposition  aside and above each other in a game of fine balance;

the brown almost red of the soil burned by the sun that turns almost black when the too dry grass is burned by the too frequent fires which leave in the air along with smoke and heat its pungent odour;

the dark green and brown of ancient olive trees with their intricate trunks each a masterpiece of nature and of the pine forests that surrounded by the intense sounds of myriad of cicadas sometimes lead to the clear and blue sea.

A short journey of the senses in my past to cherish a special kind of sweet melancholic memories, which,  purified from the ordinary sadness or disappointments of the daily life now treasures only the good and happy moments.


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