In the Mandala, each row has a certain duality: the beauty of itself and the building block for the next metamorphosis in the pattern. These changes, nearly row by row, are an objective lesson in the definition of transformation: crossing over, into new form, shape, structure, character.
Crossing over barriers such as bridges, rivers and objects is a well-used trope in old wives' tales, fairy tales, traditions and language. Charon, son of the Goddess Nyx, destined to be the Ferryman carrying souls across the River Styx, demanding coin of the dead for the ride; Moses leading the unruly tribes of Israel across the Red Sea on miraculously dry land; the three billy goats named Gruff, fooling the Troll in order to cross over his bridge; jumping the broom in marriage ceremonies, signifying the shift from two single units to one with all the changes required; and, "Over the Moon" which refers to ecstatic change and transformation.
These examples of transformation, from life to death, danger to safety, one side of a ravine to another, are physical transformations. There are other, deeper changes, spiritual and psychological into which the meditative nature of working with yarn and the repetition of stitching are leading me. I wonder what is on the other side of this transformative work.