What Mexico Taught Me About Mandalas, Colour… and Partying Like a Legend part 1)
Stephen MontgomeryShare
I went to Mexico. It was one of my main bucket list places.
I thought I was signing up for sun, pyramids, a couple of margaritas, some tequila slammers and a good 'rug cutting' with a local mariachi band.
What I did get, apart from all of that and a butler with room service and my own hot tub in our private patio garden, was a full-blown masterclass in life — taught by a nation that seems to have cracked the code on passion, colour, and how to simultaneously honor the dead while throwing the most spectacular party you've ever seen.
But let’s back it up. This isn’t just a travel story — this is about how Mexico's incredible culture collided head-on with The Mandala Experience and left me inspired, slightly hungover, and a whole lot wiser.
So, what did I learn? Let me break it down for you.
1. Mandalas Are Everywhere — Even in Time Itself
Turns out, the Mayans and Aztecs were rocking the mandala concept long before it became a trendy mindfulness tool. Their calendars? Basically cosmic mandalas — massive, intricate stone discs where every day wasn’t just a number but a symbol tied to a god, a personality trait, and a deeper cosmic meaning.
Imagine waking up and thinking, “Ah, it’s a Cooperation day today — guess I’d better be nice to people,” or, “Oh great, Cleverness day — time to hustle.” It’s mindfulness, Mexican style. Every day had a purpose, a rhythm, and a story.
Lesson learned? Everything — even time — can be a mandala, if you give it meaning.
2. Colour Isn’t Decoration — It’s a Language
Forget your polite British pastel palettes — Mexican art doesn’t whisper, it shouts. The reds are blood red, the yellows burn like the sun, and the blues are deeper than any ocean. And it’s not random — every colour means something.
At Chichen Itza, I saw pyramids and temples once emblazoned with wild colours, now faded with time but still defiant. The ancient artists didn’t just pick colours because they looked pretty — they used pigments from fruit, bark, and grass, blending nature into their art. Red symbolized life and death, yellow for the sun and maize (a life staple), and blue for water and the divine.
It made me think about The Mandala Experience — how every brushstroke holds a story, and every colour choice reveals something about the artist.
Lesson learned? Colour isn’t just what you see — it’s what you feel.
End of part one.
See you in a couple of days with the next bit.