Finding My Rhythm: Why Repetition Matters in My Mandalas

There’s a moment, usually around the third or fourth repeat of a pattern, when something clicks. The shapes stop being separate shapes and start moving around the circle together. That’s the rhythm, and it’s a big part of why I love mandala art.

The Rhythm of Repetition

At first glance, you might see repeating shapes, lines, and patterns. For me, there’s a beat to it. I watch a pattern develop around the circle, each section connecting to the next, and I enjoy playing with contrast: light followed by dark, a detailed section followed by open space for the eye to rest.

Even when the basic shapes repeat, small changes in color or line weight can make each section feel a little different. Finding the balance between repetition and variation is one of my favorite parts.

And sometimes the best choice is the simplest one. In Kindled Form, I used only one pattern for the entire mandala. More is not always better.

Where Math Meets Art

Two things that make my brain happy: math and art.

There’s a structure behind every mandala I create, and you can read about that process here or watch it here. There’s something freeing about working within a structure while still having room to create something unique.

Why I Draw the Whole Mandala First

I usually draw the full outline of a mandala before going back to fill in the details. I know there are other ways to do it. Some artists complete one circle, add all the details, and then move outward to the next, and that can work beautifully. For me, drawing the overall structure first makes the rest of the process flow better.

Once the design is outlined, I can see how the sections relate to one another: where the patterns repeat, how the balance feels, and how the design moves from the center to the outer edges. Instead of making decisions about one section without knowing what comes next, I can see the bigger picture.

Once the design is outlined, I can see how the sections relate to one another: where the patterns repeat, how the balance feels, and how the design moves from the center to the outer edges. Instead of making decisions about one section without knowing what comes next, I can see the bigger picture.

The outline is my structure. The details are where I let it surprise me. As you probably know by now, I don’t plan every detail in advance. The guide gives me a starting point, and the design develops as I work. Sometimes I’ll struggle with what to put in an area, only to realize it’s better left open, as a breather for the eye.

Repetition as a Form of Meditation

Like many people, I experience decision fatigue. There are so many little choices to make throughout the day, and sometimes the thought of making one more is exhausting. With mandalas, repetition gives me a break from some of that.

Once I’ve chosen a pattern, I can repeat it around the circle. I don’t have to reinvent it every time I move to the next section. The rhythm of drawing helps my brain settle. As my kid would say, “No thoughts, just vibes.”

That doesn’t mean the process is automatic. I’m still making decisions about color and what comes next. But there are stretches where I can relax into the repetition instead of constantly working out something new. I feel the gel pen gliding across the page, and I can focus on the line I’m drawing, the pattern taking shape, and the steady movement around the circle.

It’s one of the reasons I keep coming back to mandalas. The process gives me a chance to slow down and recenter, and I love the idea that the finished artwork may offer the same to the people whose walls it decorates.

You recognize the pattern, but as you look closer, you notice the little differences: the shifts in color, the way the design changes as it moves outward. That mix of predictable and surprising is a big part of why I make mandalas. It’s not just about the finished piece. It’s about finding the rhythm in the creation.