Mandala of You

Yesterday was a big day. Well, for me, not so much for Quinn as it turns out.

My friend Michael was holding a workshop on an artwork he has perfected -- the making of a collage into a personal mandala.

For years I've admired his work, and wondered what guides him to create the images he does. Originally, I was supposed to take his class in February, but as well all know, someone rearranged my schedule around that time.

So yesterday was my chance to spend the day making my own. But it really was all day; no less than eight hours. Michael was very encouraging and patient with me as I teetered about how I wanted to go, but was uncertain I could even bring myself to ask my parents to watch Quinn for an entire day, or if I could even handle being out of her arm's reach for such a long time.

As you guessed, I moved out of my own way and went. After clearing the hurdle of feeling bad for how much I have already imposed upon my folks, I managed to just ask them. Fortunately, the words stumbled out of my mouth, and I let my parents be the adults they are by simply answering.

For them, the idea was a cinch. No hesitation, no grumbling, they were excited by the idea, and encouraging that I take the class and spend a day doing something that was about being me and not just about being a mom.

With that (and a ridiculous need to lecture to my parents not to hesitate to call 9-1-1 should they be in doubt), I was able to dive into the class and did not feel any distress during the day. Instead, it felt like the tether between Quinn and me lengthened a bit, but was very much in tact, as I hope it always will be.

As I introduced myself as "J" to other participants, Michael and his fiance Jodie would chuckle and say "Quinn's Mom," as they have playfully dubbed me. And it feels kind of fitting to have that tagged on, as it's a new aspect to my persona that I'm still getting acquainted with.

It may be some time before I decode all the layers of my mandala... images reflecting back my own mythology. Much like the deciphering yet to come of our most beautiful piece of artwork... Madeline Quinn.

It will be years, if not decades before we fully capture what commands her fondness, what softens her focus, what tickles her sense of humor, how to translate the meaningful fluctuations of her voice, from where she navigates not only her body but her being through the world, and how we as parents might help her keep her balance and find her keel when she cannot tell up from down.

Yet, I am reminded of the elusiveness of any one's essence as I've reintegrated into my parents' home and been humbled by how little I know just when I'm certain I've finally got them pegged down.

Mastering myself is no different because the moment I've got myself figured out tends to be precisely when I am most prone to being sideswiped by another of my edges.

Discovering and uncovering what it is that makes her Quinn, I imagine will be a momentary insight that will just as quickly slip out of my grasp as quickly as it had settled in.

To the discovery of you,
Q's M and MQ