My birthday present, a minty fresh unopened 1969 vintage Kenner Super Spirograph set, is on its way to me. I could not be more ridiculously pleased.
I had this exact same set when I was nine or ten – it was the tool of my first mandala-making, my first experience with meditation and patience and breathing. Round and round, breathe and watch, with the green pen or the blue, the black, waiting the outcome you could rarely predict. Like watching flowers happen. Ink and science and toothy plastic cogs and wheels and spirals at a little girl’s command. Precious, powerful.
When you mess up, you toss that breath calmly away and open a new one, take a new piece of paper, move your pen again and wonder every time how this amazing thing is coming from your hand.
And when you least expect, a small epiphany of beauty and harmony as the pen comes came back to the point it started from, the point where you were just a minute ago only now there’s something of you, perfect, that wasn’t there before.