Category: dancing in the field of dreams

There is a small container in a parking lot off Churton Street in Hillsborough that’s housing a mandala as part of the Uproar Festival of Public Art.

There’s a shelf under the poem with 4 little bowls of sand that you can touch. Each bowl has finer sand than the last going from fairly course (almost like playground sand) to the much finer stuff that is used for mandalas.

The destruction ceremony is tomorrow night and I’m planning to attend.

I’m kind of persnickety about the idea of mandalas. I think they are lovely and understand people wanting to keep images of them. But, when people call a permanent thing they have made a mandala, they seem to be missing the point.