There’s a sect of Buddhist monks who live high in the Himalaya Mountains in Tibet. These men, dressed only in simple robes, toil multiple hours per day over a period of several weeks bent over a stone floor a metal cone-shaped container holding brightly colored sands in hand that, when a metal rod is run over the top creating vibrations, drop grains of sand from it through a small opening at the bottom to add a line of sand here or there. It is a painstaking process.

The monks work in a group to make a sand mandala — an intricately detailed circular mural about 10 feet in diameter. The result is an extravagant piece of art, delicately interlaced designs with beautiful, vibrant colors — masterpieces really.

To the outside observer their work would appear to be a project worth saving and maintaining. However, the mandala is largely a ceremonial gesture, as when it is finally completed after several weeks and hundreds of hours of work, it is not preserved in any way, but simply brushed away with a broom in preparation for the beginning of another mandala.

The mandala is meant to be a representation of life. The blank stone floor the stand-in for the newborn and each grain of sand the moments in life that contribute to your being, who you are, what you do, what you create before it is all eventually swept away at cessation. In a way of thinking, this extends to all things.

This is the celebration of not just the result, but the beauty of the action itself. Sports, and prep sports in particular, offer a parallel fleeting form of art. We’ve seen over the years our local athletes begin a game anew, the freshly waxed court, the untrodden field, the wakeless pool — whatever it may be — is waiting until the moment the body is introduced and the game begins. The beauty and fluidity of motion in the human body — as it strives for physical feats of intricate, interlaced movements — between the motion of the body itself and that of the other bodies on the field, the green of the grass, orangish brown of the dirt on in the batter’s box and pitcher’s mound, pristine blue of the pool serving as a mere backdrop to the task at hand — building oneself through sport, through game, through momentary passion for movement meant to accomplish a goal.

You can’t always win, but you can always play and it is the individual movements and moments of that play which come together to give each game its own life and when it is over — while there may some personal photos or if you are lucky a newspaper clipping somewhere — those actions no longer exist only to become a memory you may or may not take with you into the rest of your life.

We see this in our St. John Parks and Rec little league All Start teams who travel to Southaven, Miss. today, the SCC American Legion team competing for state this weekend, the new chapter for West St. John High School football after coach Robert Valdez moves on and the St. John swim teams’ seasons ending marking another year gone, another year older (look out for a story on this next week).

Such as the way of the new life begins.

Just like the actions of the Buddhist monks dropping a grain of sand at a time on a much larger project, each story of our local athletes and coaches unravels one particle at a time. While the placement of that particle is largely immaterial, it’s the act that is important every second, every minute, every day.

Kyle Barnett can be reached by phone at 985-652-9545 or email at kyle.barnett@lobservateur.com.