FromChapter 1: Mandala: A Reflection of the Self

A Persian shepherd gazes at the night sky and sees a swirling spiral pattern in the stars. An American child selects a crayon and joyfully scribbles on a piece of paper, over and over again moving hand and arm in a circular motion. A Scandinavian priest of the sun god steps onto wet sand and traces a circle around his feet. An Indian pilgrim reverently circles the monument marking Buddha's enlightenment. A Tibetan monk takes brush in hand to begin his morning meditation: painting a traditional circular design. A German nun experiences a vision of God as a fiery wheel. What do these very different human beings have in common? They are all participating in the compelling human fascination with the circle.

Why has the circle been such an important part of human culture since ancient times? Why do people of all cultures, times, and places find the circular motif such a satisfying and meaningful form of expression? Here is one man's description of his insight into the meaning of the circle, which he calls a "mandala."

I sketched every morning in a notebook a small circular drawing, a mandala, which seemed to correspond to my inner situation at the time. . . . Only gradually did I discover what the mandala really is: the Self, the wholeness of the personality, which if all goes well is harmonious. (Jung, 1965: 195–196)

Carl Gustav Jung, a Swiss psychiatrist, adopted the Sanskrit word mandala to describe the circle drawings he and his patients did. Mandala means center, circumference, or magic circle. Jung associated the mandala with the Self, the center of the total personality. He suggested that the mandala shows the natural urge to live out our potential, to fulfill the pattern of our whole personality.

Growth toward wholeness is a natural process that brings to light one's uniqueness and individuality. For this reason Jung called the process individuation. He advocated respectful attention to the symbols of the unconscious as a way to enhance personal growth. Jung saw the spontaneous appearance of mandalas in dreams, imagination, and artwork as evidence that individuation is taking place. The result of individuation is a harmonious unity of the personality with the Self serving as the central unifying principle. Jung wrote that the basic motif of the mandala

is the premonition of a centre of personality, a kind of central point within the psyche, to which everything is related, by which everything is arranged, and which is itself a source of energy. The energy of the central point is manifested in the almost irresistible compulsion and urge to become what one is, just as every organism is driven to assume the form that is characteristic of its nature, no matter what the circumstances. This centre is not felt or thought of as the ego but, if one may so express it, as the self (1973b: 73)

Where did the idea of the mandala originate? The motif of the circle appears very early in human history. Ancient rock carvings in Africa, Europe, and North America make use of the circle, spiral, and similar designs. The purpose of these designs is a mystery, but we know they were important because so many were created. What do we know about human beings that can help explain their choice of the circle as a meaningful design?

Let us turn first to natural history for an answer. Consider for a moment where we all originate. We grow from a tiny round egg, supported in the womb of our mother. In her womb we are encircled and firmly held within a spherical space. When it is time to be born, we are pushed by a series of circular muscles down through the tubular birth canal and out through a circular opening into the world.

Once born, we find ourselves on a planet that is itself circular, moving in a circular orbit around the sun. We are anchored to the earth by gravity so that we are not conscious of our spinning. Yet our bodies know. If we look even deeper to the level of the atoms that comprise our bodies, we find yet another universe where elements whirl in curving patterns. The subliminal experience of circular movement, like the memory of our mother's womb, is encoded in our bodies. Thus we are predisposed to respond to the circle. We share these facts of human life with all human beings both ancient and modern.

By considering what life was like for our ancestors living on this planet long ago, we can discover more reasons for the importance of the circle. Ancient peoples lived close to nature. The natural rhythms of the heavens and the earth were dramatic forces that dictated the way people lived their lives. Hunting and gathering were done by the light of the sun. When night came our ancestors retired to sleep. Clustered around a fire, they quite naturally gathered in a circle turned toward the light, warmth, and movement of the fire in the center.

If we define consciousness in the simplest terms as being awake, then lack of consciousness would be sleep. During the day while the sun shines, human beings are awake, conscious, and active. When night falls, human beings sleep and consciousness, like the sun, disappears in darkness. With a new day the person awakes again to consciousness. The alternation of sleeping and waking is regulated by the light of the sun. Therefore, the sun is an apt symbol for the wakefulness of consciousness which it stimulates in human beings.

Imagining ourselves back to the time of our first ancestors, we can understand how the sun, stars, and moon would have fascinated us. An interest in these natural elements is revealed by the fact that some of the world's earliest ritual practices apparently revolved around the sun. Ancient mandalas carved in many places around the world suggest an awe of the sun and the moon. These circular heavenly bodies could have served our ancestors as natural symbols, shaping consciousness and assisting human beings to develop their thinking beyond purely instinctive levels. In Denmark there are ancient carvings that suggest the step from instinctive group mind to individual consciousness of self.

Near the sea, neolithic carvings of ships are found. Mandala sun symbols in the vicinity support the conjecture that these ships are associated with rituals of sun worship, possibly invoking blessings for a safe voyage. Occasionally one sees footprints superimposed above the outline of a ship. Sometimes footprints are suggested by a circle apparently traced around the feet of a person. A line bisects the circle indicating the separation between the feet. A second line is placed horizontally to the first so that the whole design appears to be a cross within a circle.

This design seems to have been used as a symbol for the sun by ancient peoples. Thousands of years later the same design is produced spontaneously by young children during the process of developing their sense of personal identity. The step from participation in group mind to a sense of individuality had to be taken at some point in human evolution. The shift in consciousness that is naturally achieved by modern children might have been made first by a few remarkable individuals. Could it be that the foot tracing mandalas in Denmark provide a clue about how this step was taken?

It could have happened something like this. Priests were individuals singled out by the group to perform rituals. They may have even functioned as a human stand-in for the sun god in ceremonies. A priest, by tracing around his feet at the place he stood while representing the sun, could leave a visible sign of the presence of the sun deity at an event. Perhaps a priest enacting the sun might, at some point, have had a transfiguring experience that enabled him to make a leap in thinking.

The mental process by which the change took place might have been as follows. A priest accustomed to saying, while tracing around his feet during a ritual, "That which occupies this space is the sun," might instead have had the thought, "That which occupies this space is I." We have no way of knowing for sure, but it is possible that some of the first persons to experience themselves as individuals were priests like the ones in Denmark. By enacting the sun, perhaps they came to know themselves as individuals, separate and apart from the group. Out of such experiences, mediated by symbolic interaction with the circular form of the sun, consciousness of self may have been born.

The mysterious, ever-changing moon could have influenced the thinking of human beings as well. Legends of the Maori people of the South Pacific suggest some intriguing possibilities for how this could be so. There are many stories that have as their hero Maui, a sort of everyman. In the stories he is involved with a woman named Hina. Maui is always the same irrepressible character in different tales. However, Hina takes many forms. Sometimes she is Maui's ancestress, at another time his mother, his sister, or another relative. It is difficult to understand why a character with the same name should be so variable. We may begin to understand the identity of this changeable woman when we learn that Hina translates as "moon." Her many guises reflect the various phases of the moon: now new (young), now full (mature), now waning (aging).

Susanne Langer suggests that the Maori legends make use of the moon as a natural symbol for woman and womankind. She writes: "The moon expresses the whole mystery of womankind, not only in its phases but in the complicated time-cycle of its complete withdrawal. Women in tribal society have elaborate schedules of taboo and ritual of which a man cannot keep track" (1976: 191). Through time and the process of condensation, which allows for more and more layers of meaning to be associated with an image, the moon became an ever-richer symbol that said something about life itself. Langer continues:

just as life grows to completeness with every waxing phase, so in the waning period one can see the old moon takepossession gradually of the brilliant parts. Life is swallowed by death in a graphic process and the swallowing monster was ancestor to the light that died. The significance of the moon is irresistible. Ages of repetition hold the picture of life and death before our eyes. No wonder if men learn to contemplate it, to form their notions of an individual life on the model of that cycle and conceive death as a work of ghostly forbears, the same who gave life, and that notions of resurrection or reincarnation should arise from such contemplation. (191–192)

Experiences with their bodies, fire circles, and the easily studied examples of the sun and the moon placed before our ancestors the form of the circle. It should not be surprising that they adopted the circle as a symbol for consciousness, and for life, death, and rebirth. Most probably as an outgrowth of these ideas, the circle was incorporated into the creation myths of many cultures. These legends seek to answer the question "Where did I come from?"

Egyptian mythology describes the cosmos as a seamless round before time began. Within this circle Nut, goddess of the sky, and Geb, god of earth, were tightly bound to one another. With the loosening of this circle, the world parents separated and set in motion time, creativity, and consciousness. In the Upanishads, ancient religious literature of India, we find this account:

The sun is brahma—this is the teaching. Here is the explanation: In the beginning, this world was nonbeing. This nonbeing became being. It developed. It turned into an egg. It lay there for a year. It burst asunder. One part of the eggshell was of silver, the other part was of gold. The silver part is the earth, the golden part is the sky. . . .

What was born of it is yonder sun. When it was born there were shouts and hurrahs, all beings and all desires rose up to greet it. Therefore at its rising and at its every return, there are shouts and hurrahs, all beings and all desires rise up to greet it. (Cited in Neumann, 1973: 107)

Creation myths based on the idea of the circle are found in the traditions of Europe, Africa, and the South Pacific as well as India. Clearly, this motif resonates with deeply felt human intuitions. In our own Western culture the circle as the beginning of all things has appeared in the writings of Plato. He has given us this account of creation:

he established the universe a sphere revolving in a circle, one and solitary, yet by reason of its excellence able to bear itself company, and needing no other friendship or acquaintance. (Cited in Kaufman, 1961: 331)

The alternation of day and night, the ever-changing moon, and the rhythms of the seasons became the foundation of a world view based on circles. This point of view, important to peoples still living close to nature, is eloquently expressed by Black Elk, the Dakota elder:

Everything the Power of the World does is done in a circle. The sky is round, and I have heard that the earth is round like a ball, and so are all the stars. The wind, in its greatest power, whirls. Birds make their nests in circles, for theirs is the same religion as ours. The sun comes forth and goes down again in a circle. The moon does the same, and both are round. Even the seasons form a great circle in their changing, and always come back again to where they were. The life of a man is a circle from childhood to childhood, and so it is in everything where power moves. (Cited in Neihardt, 1961: 32–33)

Viewing the world as a circle had some very practical applications as our ancestors took to the high ground for a clear view. They saw that the horizon line appears to be a circle. Human beings, in an effort to move safely about in large land areas, devised ways to orient themselves within this vast circle. In developing schemes for finding their bearings, it would have been natural to begin with the space they knew best: that occupied by their own body. Let us consider the body, with its arrangement of limbs and organs, as a focal point for organizing the space within the circle of the horizon.

The bilateral arrangement of the body creates a right and left side. With arms outstretched in opposite directions away from the body, one might imagine lines extending beyond the outstretched arms to the horizon. This establishes two opposite directions in the circle. The placement of the eyes in front of the head naturally suggests the line of sight as another direction, and implies its opposite as a continuation of this line extending behind. Thus we can imagine the classic mandala pattern consisting of the horizon line (circle) and four lines converging at the body in the center.

This scheme for dividing up space was utilized by Etruscan soothsayers. They interpreted events according to where within this imaginary mandala design the happenings took place. The use of the body to establish directions is also suggested by the Native American custom of including the center point of the self as another direction in their system of orientation. Native Americans also add the directions up and down, suggested by the vertical stance of the body, giving a total of seven directions.