Holding Space for Teens: My First Mandala Workshop with Young Hearts
This Saturday, I led my first-ever Mandala workshop for a group of teenagers. It was a new experience—and one that left me both humbled and full of hope.
To be honest, I was nervous. I’d never taught teens before, and today’s teenagers are… different. They’re immersed in information, overstimulated by screens, and exposed to endless content just a tap away. I worried they’d find my workshop boring—or worse, mock the mindful, introspective nature of Mandala-making.
Mandalas are niche. They’re slow, quiet, contemplative. Would any of that resonate with teenagers used to fast-paced, dopamine-driven content? I didn’t know. A part of me was scared I’d be dismissed or not taken seriously. But I showed up anyway.
The session was hosted by Eternal Mindspace Foundation, a beautiful mental health organization that advocates for more mindful, screen-free experiences for kids and teens. Their mission deeply aligns with Kalmeri Studio’s values of slowing down, being present, and cultivating inner stillness through creative expression.
The session, however, was unexpectedly shortened to half the original time. I typically start every workshop with a guided meditation—a few grounding breaths, a moment to center ourselves, and gently let the outside world fade. It helps participants shift gears from distraction to creation, and gives them permission to just be. Even with less time, I knew we couldn’t skip this. So I began with a few deep breaths and encouraged everyone to settle into the moment.
Inside, I was nervously giddy. But I reminded myself: it’s not about being perfect, it’s about staying connected to why I do this. That helped me ground myself—and once I did, the session unfolded with grace.
We began by finding the center of our page and drawing our first circle. I moved around the group, gently guiding each participant at their own pace. “First circle at 2 cm,” I’d call out, then float around helping with rulers, lines, spacing. It was peaceful, even playful. I loved how everyone brought their own energy and expression to the process.
There was something so natural about holding that space for them. My nurturing side showed up—equal parts mother, elder sister, and eldest daughter. Funny enough, I felt maternal toward these teens. I saw my own little one in them. I feel slightly embarrassed admitting this, but it’s true. I just wanted to give them a space to feel safe, seen, and accepted.
And maybe that’s my biggest takeaway from this session: my empathy is not a weakness—it’s my strength. Holding space for others comes naturally when I lead with authenticity and stay rooted in my purpose.
That morning, everything that could go wrong, did. My toddler refused to eat, clung to me while I was trying to get ready, and I was scrambling to organize supplies. To top it off, we landed at the wrong venue. And when we finally made it to the right one, I was told the session would be cut short because some of the boys had soccer commitments.
I was frazzled, overstimulated, and utterly dysregulated. I cried on the way there. I genuinely considered calling it off. Hosting a workshop requires energy and presence—and I didn’t feel like I had either.
But I returned to my grounding practices. I breathed. I reminded myself of my why. I centered myself in the energy of service, intention, and creativity. And once the session began, a surprising sense of calm took over.
As the workshop flowed, I felt like I had come home. There’s a special kind of peace I feel in those spaces—like everything is just as it should be. No pressure to be perfect. No right or wrong. Everyone works at their own pace. And I gently remind them (and myself) that this, too, is beautiful.
That chaotic morning and the blissful stillness that followed showed me something clearly: this is what I want to do. This is what feels natural, purposeful, and aligned.
And how incredible that I get to do this work with my little one by my side. Is there anything moms can’t do?
Love and Light,
Sneha ✨
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