Losing It

I am a habitual loser.

Keys, phone, wallet, glasses, the plot, my religion, my rag, my marbles. Day after day.

Often, they turn up in the fridge.

Earlier this year I visited Nepal, before the earthquake, and encountered sand mandalas. Buddhist monks spend weeks creating these intricate pictures using coloured sand, painstakingly inserting individual grains using straws held in the mouth. The end results are stunningly beautiful. Once completed there is a good deal of chanting and miscellaneous bell-ringing etc etc etc. Then they hoover it all up and dump it in the river.

However beautiful it may have been, and however much effort went into its creation – well, it just gets swept up and discarded. Because that’s just how it is.


Since my return, I have been trying to teach myself to paint mandalas using acrylics (although it’s taken a bit of a back seat for the moment as I’m doing some other things). Mixed results, but the key part is that I have kept none of them. I give them all away.


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