Building a Mala

by Jeff Wright

In Shakespeare's A Midsummer's Dream, the heroes are given a potion that causes them to fall in love with the first thing they see when they awaken. Yoga practice can have a similar effect. Body and mind deliberately brought to stillness bring a freshness of perception and an openness of heart that has us in gentle awe and appreciation as we leave that stillness. For me that has been one of the most important benefits of my practice.

This feeling of gratitude fades, to be sure, as I return to concerns of the day, and yet something of the attitude lingers, pervades, and returns. There comes a faith that the world truly is miraculous, and we begin to act accordingly. It is a fine thing, then, to be indiscriminate about what we first look upon as we leave our practice. One miracle is as good as another. It is an important lesson. But there is another aspect to this as well. We could rest our practice-fresh sensitivities on something that specifically followed the trajectory of that practice. I think it is in that vein that altars are developed. If we gaze first upon the purity of a candle flame, the profound element of water, the beauty of flowers, the image of one who is committed to practice, then we set forth a stabilizing thread in our minds to carry us through times of less wisdom.

In my own practice I have looked in this way toward that which is simple and portable. Over the years I have come to find a string of mala beads an excellent way to ground my breath and mind. Even when not using them I find their presence in my pocket a reassuring reminder of the steady mind. I have also become something of a materialist regarding them; a connoisseur of sorts. Their feel and appearance have become important. For a time I was attracted to the humility of cheap wooden beads. In the moments of my transition from meditation to daily life I would look at them and remember simplicity, the worth of austerity in life style. Then, for several years, I used beads of stone -- limestone, again, for its humble, regional qualities -- but stone because of its inherent permanence and stability. It was cool and heavy to the touch. In recent months I have used a mala with beads of ivory colored cow bone. It seems to link me with the body, my body, its toughness and its mortality. There is also a feeling of compassion that comes to me when I use them, look at them, have them in my pocket. These beads once were part of a life that felt pain and pleasure, just like me. That life is gone now, as mine will be gone some day. The cow gave her life partially for my benefit. The beads speak to my heart. Those are my thoughts and feelings with this particular mala. Those are attitudes I am particularly interested in cultivating at this time.

When I made a mala for my wife and yoga partner, Tracey, she chose stone beads that were a smoky translucent green with denser bits of green intruded within them. They reminded her of lakes in summer; of the freedom of swimming, and of the peace and density of life inherent in natural bodies of water. She felt it was the course of her spirit. Now I consider the meaning of other materials for other people, of how someone might be attracted to the gentle, cheery hope in the clear, light pink of rose quartz; to the pearly surfaces of shell beads that form small orbs that seem almost to glow from within like the eggs of fish and frogs; or, to the pure deep profundities of night in black onyx beads.

The center bead of a mala, known as the meru, is also a matter of contemplation. In the past I have carved them from walnut and desert juniper. At present I like to use various designs of sterling silver beads. Silver is bright, imperishable, reflective -- like the moon. It is important and precious, but not as overwhelming and ostentatious as gold. The meru is the goal, a point of ultimate spiritual reference to be kept in mind, but never quite consumed. And, there is a tassel; a feathery end that tells us without our looking where we are to begin; a bit of lifeline dangling out there from the meru.

If you would like to know more about the parameters of the mala as an interface between deep inward practice and the external world, please get in touch with me. I am also presently filling in certain corners of my life with the construction of malas. They will be displayed for sale at the studio, but I would also invite you to let me help you design your own according to your personality in its present needs and interests from my catalog of materials. I string them from the strongest cord I have found. A mala is both a tool bearing much wear and tear as it moves through your fingers over the years, and an item of contemplation. Basically I charge $50 for my time. Tying a knot between each bead so that the bead won't shift as you move through the strand takes about 3 hours for each mala. During that process I try to keep a steady mind and do my own japa. Knowing that, you may feel some the mala's usefulness communicated from me as you use it. I also charge for the materials in your mala and that generally ranges from $15 to $40 depending on the size and type of bead you decide upon. More precious material could cost significantly more. Finally, because there is always some spiritual danger in dwelling upon material forms and values, I urge you to consider this particular opportunity for growth with lightness and the challenge of non-attachment even in the presence of largesse.
Namaste,
Jeff

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