A Better Kind of Holiday

I feel badly about the dire state of the retailers this holiday season. I’m sorry so many of them are struggling and so many more are closing their doors. I know this time of year is often their only time to be profitable. I feel badly that I didn’t help their cause at all----not in the least----not once. That’s because I don’t buy presents anymore. No one in our family exchanges gifts and we’re very happy about it.

We didn’t always do it this way of course. The first time we thought about the idea of foregoing the exchange of gifts, we got scared and, at the last minute, bought things for each other. It’s interesting how unsettled we all were at not having gifts to open. What would we do on Christmas Eve? Would we feel sad? Deprived? Then, add the fact that we’d always given gifts to one another, we just couldn’t break a long-standing tradition.

The next year we decided to try the idea on again. I think it came up for review because most of the gifts I had gotten from my sister and her family the year before I didn’t particularly like, or didn’t use, or they didn’t fit. I also had noticed that the rather hard-to-find item for her kitchen that I had searched all over for and paid quite a bit of money for has never been seen again. So the discussion of not buying presents for the upcoming holidays was pretty welcome. This time, however, my sister put forth the idea of giving our money to someone who needed it. That’s when the concept stuck.

Each year now my sister finds a family in need; each year we hope to make their holidays a bit brighter; and each year we feel good as well. Do we suffer from deprivation on Christmas Eve? Heck no. We watch movies, play games, eat----it never occurs to us that we’re NOT opening any presents. I don’t have to have a feng shui crisis about what to do with this stuff----Is it clutter? Should I re-cycle or re-gift? I don’t have to feel badly about all the wrapping paper being thrown in a land-fill somewhere. I don’t have to ponder the question as to whether there is an appropriate length of time to keep a gift that you have no intention of using/wearing. Of course, this no-gift plan probably wouldn’t work so well if there were still little kids in our family. But as adults, it’s a perfect one-size-fits all concept.

Although the retailers had not been dependent on the spending habits of me and my family for the past few years, I nevertheless feel badly about their plight. The irony around the family who received our gift of money is that they owned a retail store which they had to close due to the bad economic times. Add to that their seven children and the husband with a serious medical condition, it was looking like the holidays for them was going to be pretty grim. Perhaps our small influx of well-wishes helped to ease their worries for a time.

Let it Snow, Let it Snow, Let it Snow

Today on the morning of the Solstice, I sit in my office keeping my eye on a snowstorm. I have been looking forward to this storm for the last three or four days. Ever since I heard about it coming from the Dakotas, I’ve been in high anticipation of its arrival. You can accurately surmise I’m not the one out there shoveling and I’m not trying to drive to some distant parts. I’m the one sitting in my office looking out the window and blissfully counting the inches that have dropped thus far.

Last night I made a grocery run to stock up on food---hoping we’ll be snowed in for at least two days if not more. I even made sure our cats had emergency back-up supplies. It seems odd I’d be so enthusiastic about having to be house-bound. I typically find a situation like this confining and irritating. However, my theory is that for this brief time, corresponding with the Solstice in a synchronistic way, I have unconsciously aligned myself with the flow of nature.

The Chinese use the language of the 5 Elements to describe, well, everything—directions, process, land formations, medical analysis, tai qi, and even the seasons. These phases are described in simple terms (Fire, Earth, Metal, Water, Wood), but have deep and nuanced meanings. Currently we are in the midst of the Water phase, the Solstice signifying the exact mid-point. During Water time, nature stops expressing itself outwardly but instead takes this opportunity to re-group, re-calibrate until it’s time to appear again. It is intended to be a quiet time where we would appropriately hibernate, as nature does.

As a culture, we have evolved this time into a frenzied and aggravating spell. The holidays require people to go out, put forth money they may not have, over-book their schedules, attend boisterous gatherings, eat too much, drink too much; for most people the holidays are anything but thoughtful. Perhaps I have a need to be part of the Water energy this year when things slow down and there’s less activity. Perhaps I have felt an unspoken entrainment with nature, an alignment that just feels good for me right now. I can use the storm as my legitimate excuse to stay home and slow down—to hibernate. Whatever it is, I want it to last as long as possible----long after the snow has stopped.

Let it Snow, Let it Snow, Let it Snow

Today on the morning of the Solstice, I sit in my office keeping my eye on a snowstorm. I have been looking forward to this storm for the last three or four days. Ever since I heard about it coming from the Dakotas, I’ve been in high anticipation of its arrival. You can accurately surmise I’m not the one out there shoveling and I’m not trying to drive to some distant parts. I’m the one sitting in my office looking out the window and blissfully counting the inches that have dropped thus far.

Last night I made a grocery run to stock up on food---hoping we’ll be snowed in for at least two days if not more. I even made sure our cats had emergency back-up supplies. It seems odd I’d be so enthusiastic about having to be house-bound. I typically find a situation like this confining and irritating. However, my theory is that for this brief time, corresponding with the Solstice in a synchronistic way, I have unconsciously aligned myself with the flow of nature.


The Chinese use the language of the 5 Elements to describe, well, everything—directions, process, land formations, medical analysis, tai qi, and even the seasons. These phases are described in simple terms (Fire, Earth, Metal, Water, Wood), but have deep and nuanced meanings. Currently we are in the midst of the Water phase, the Solstice signifying the exact mid-point. During Water time, nature stops expressing itself outwardly but instead takes this opportunity to re-group, re-calibrate until it’s time to appear again. It is intended to be a quiet time where we would appropriately hibernate, as nature does.

As a culture, we have evolved this time into a frenzied and aggravating spell. The holidays require people to go out, put forth money they may not have, over-book their schedules, attend boisterous gatherings, eat too much, drink too much; for most people the holidays are anything but thoughtful. Perhaps I have a need to be part of the Water energy this year when things slow down and there’s less activity. Perhaps I have felt an unspoken entrainment with nature, an alignment that just feels good for me right now. I can use the storm as my legitimate excuse to stay home and slow down—to hibernate. Whatever it is, I want it to last as long as possible----long after the snow has stopped.

Feng Shui and Felines

I’ve had a theory for several years now----it has stood the test of time and I think it merits consideration. My theory is that people who are interested in Feng Shui also have cats. I’m not proposing this idea just because I myself have three cats but because the majority of my clients are also owners of felines.

It may be that cats are very attuned to subtle energies and since Feng Shui is all about energy, people may find a connection between the two. Cats like to sleep in warm, cozy corners where there might also be a soft pillow or a fresh pile of laundry, seeking an area where the ch’i flows favorably. By nature cats are nocturnal----ask anyone who owns a cat about those night-time tirades where hanging from curtains or "cat"- apulting over the back of chairs is just normal behavior. Feng Shui also prefers a good balance of yin energy—soft and winding paths, fountains, gentle breezes.


It’s not that dogs aren’t good indicators of energy, but you must admit they lack subtlety. A cat knows how to coerce ch’i to get what they want. They can masterfully stare changes into happening. They will stare at a door so long that suddenly it will open for them. They can stare at their owner from across the room for hours if needed until food appears, or a lap, from which they can choose which one will fulfill their needs at the moment.

A few years back, I kept track of this cat phenomenon. Each and every one of my clients had a cat or two, even three. This lasted unbroken for nearly two years. Back in those days I was doing two to three appointments a week. That’s a lot of homes with a lot of cats. I even wrote a tongue-in-cheek article back then sharing this observation if you want to ponder more about this topic.


My question is whether cats actually enhance the Feng Shui of a space or not. Or do they simply manage to get themselves adopted into a home that already has good Feng Shui. Perhaps that will always remain their secret. But, as a cat love, I myself am happy they’re here doing what they do----which is pretty much nothing.

Yin Yang Economics

On the Friday after Thanksgiving my husband and I went shopping. The mall wasn’t as crowded as I expected and our parking angel got us a spot right near an entrance so all-in-all it was very enjoyable.

As we were driving home we discussed the concept of this day being called Black Friday, coming from the simple fact that stores hopefully register profits for the day— their income column will have a larger number than the expense column. In the days when these accounting ledgers were filled in by hand, red ink was used to write in the final number if someone was in debt or experienced a loss and black ink was used for this number if there was a profit.

From a yin-yang perspective this makes some sense. Yin energy is receptive, pulls in—the flow is toward the center. Yang energy is expansive, expressive— the flow is outgoing. When a situation is "in the black," money is coming in, flowing toward the company. When someone is "in the red," money is going out, the company is losing profits. The red color, in fact, could be considered an alert in case anyone reading the accounting books didn’t notice the small minus sign in front of the number— the red color would draw their attention.

Due to this accounting tradition, people get confused about the term Black Friday. It sounds ominous—like something a person would want to avoid. In fact, the recent economic turmoil the country is experiencing has been compared to a day back in 1929 called Black Tuesday or a similar day in 1987 called Black Monday. These were NOT profitable days; there were no gains to be had. So, of course, we’re confused. In one economic situation black is good, in another black is bad. Perhaps this discrepancy between black being good or bad is a higher symbol of the discrepancies (i.e. confusion) that are inherent in our economic system in the first place.

Despite all that, we shopped at the mall on Friday oblivious of good black or bad black, yin or yang, knowing there will always be inconsistencies. Some of those "sales" weren't such great

bargains either.

Feng Shui in the Oval Office

I haven’t heard from anyone in Washington yet, but just in case someone calls (like Michelle or probably her assistant) requesting some Feng Shui for the Oval Office, I’m starting to put some ideas together. I figure when the call comes in, I’ll have to move quickly.

So here are some initial thoughts and ideas. Aware of President-elect Obama’s national plea to work together and make sacrifices as a unified team, the round/oval shape of the room is a benefit. This shape reflects unending unification; it creates a potential for communication and discussion; and it is symbolic of heavenly energy—the kind of strength and support our new president will certainly need. So thankfully no major renovations will be needed.

Due to the three doors opening into the room, the desk does need to be positioned in the back part of the room. The problem, however, is that here sits our President with his back to a window. This window wasn’t always there----earlier pictures of the Oval Office show a solid wall. Of course, the President will be outfitted with a state of the art chair which I’m sure will have a tall back on it, but shouldn’t we be extra cautious these days? I will strongly suggest to First Lady Michelle (or whomever) that the President not only have a high-backed chair, but also a solid wall. Out with the window. And no artwork will be hung behind him to distract anyone from looking directly at our President.

I draw your attention to the center of the room. It is no wonder this last presidency had some issues play out what with the two sofas opposing one another----a statement about continual opposition and arguments. I will suggest no sofas, but chairs that can be moved and re-arranged as needed, reflecting a theme of flexibility and adaptability in this presidency. I will also suggest a round coffee table in the middle of it all to act as a stabilizing hub.

I was struck by the photo of President Bush and the President-elect meeting in the Oval Office for the first time. Although the chairs are positioned at an angle to support communication, what you don’t see is that there’s a door from the hallway behind them making them both vulnerable. There is also a definite break in their rapport evidenced by the line of energy coming from the presidential desk and the coffee table, in effect, placing them on different sides of the issues. Another reason to support changing the layout of this central area.

Finally, because our new President seems to be fearlessly breaking new ground, I might venture he coordinate that idea in his Oval Office as well. What if, instead of all the chairs/sofas/coffee tables in the center of the room, he install a large round conference table where he could meet with heads of state in an equal yet focused way? Where it would take on a board-room look—professional and business-like, yet supporting productive discussions.

Well, I’m ready if anyone should call. Who knows, they might decide they need a full-time resident Feng Shui consultant to be just steps away from the action. For my country, I’d be there.

Unabashed Chinese

As fellow travelers start to share photos of our recent China journey, it’s like seeing the trip through different eyes. Situations which I didn’t particularly think to photograph, someone else did. What struck me as worthy of lots of memorable snapshots, someone else skipped over. A couple of times I was sorry I didn’t get some record of what was happening, but luckily others did. One thing we all documented with vigor were the people in the parks.

The public parks for the Chinese are venues for people to perform----to sing, to dance, to do tai chi. These aren’t professional performers, but people who like to get together, who like to have a good time, who will dress up in costumes, who laugh and enjoy themselves. They particularly get a huge kick out of pulling in any gawking tourists to dance with them. We learned we had to keep moving along----if we stopped to watch we were sure to be targets for their enthusiasm, pulled into some kind of a folk dance, that required twirling and jumping.

How come we don’t dance our the parks? How come I don’t pick up a portable microphone, stand by a tree, and belt out some song everyone knows—even if I don’t sing all that well? How is it I wouldn’t be caught dead waving scarves around to music coming from a boom box? When did we get so hung up? My theory is that performance is an integral part of Chinese culture. It doesn’t matter if you’re particularly good or not—the group joins in to help you out, everyone claps no matter what, and above all, everyone feels good at the end. Inspired even. My ch’i was lifted just watching them.

All this gives me some new and inventive ideas for lifting the ch’i in a space----- a new Feng Shui approach. With kareoke machine in hand and dancing shoes on feet, what better way to clear out those dark energies, those lurking spirits, those dead clutter areas? What dank, moldy basement couldn’t benefit from a short musical number----maybe a costume to enhance the experience? Maybe a waving scarf? Maybe not.

A Tall Tale of Politeness in China

The first time I went to China (2002) with my husband, we were regularly stopped to have our picture taken. A whole bunch of Chinese people would come from seemingly nowhere and crowd around us. They were always polite and gracious, but always on the verge of laughing uncontrollably. My husband and I would stand in the middle, smiling at the unexplained attention we were getting. They would take picture after picture of us, other cameras would show up, we kept smiling.

I always knew they were amused by his height (6'7"). After all, when any of the Chinese would come stand by him, they would be the same height as his belt buckle which they found hysterically funny. But it didn’t explain why I was included in these photo moments. I’m not that tall by their standards. Was it more than his height? Were we that special looking? So outstandingly handsome that people couldn’t help but ask for a picture with us? Or were we just freaks? Whatever, they were always gracious to us and thanked us profusely.

Over the years, these polite photo forays continued. Last year, as we were coming out of a museum, a group descended on us for the usual snapshot experience. We stopped walking, preparing ourselves for the onslaught of twenty or more people who would gather around us. One young woman, however, cut in front of me and took my place by my husband's side. I was relegated to standing behind her, virtually unseen. Some of her friends came along and crowded me out altogether. I stepped aside unnoticed. I watched from the sidelines as the laughing went on and cameras were clicking. Alas, I realized this photo scene wasn’t about us as a couple, and, lest I had any other idea, it certainly wasn’t about me----it was merely about a tall man in contrast with short people which the Chinese find very, very funny. Things are loosening up in China, and so are those Confucian ways that require strict decorum. I can only surmise that up to that point politeness had prevented them from asking me to step aside, until one young Chinese figured out how to make it happen.

Truthfully, watching my husband surrounded by all those short laughing people was a highlight for me. I was happy to relinquish my image, however photogenic it may or may not be. And I'm happy to see their shining faces and hear their delightful squeals----even if they aren't so polite

anymore.

China Memories

As I integrate a recent trip to China, I am a bit overwhelmed with unpacking, sorting, catching up, not to mention jet lag. It will eventually all settle into a warm, satisfying experience but this initial phase is a little rough. Over the next few weeks, I intend to share some of these memories—those small details, as well as those huge moments. I can’t say there will be any order or progression, just drop-in segments.


Hinda and I were obviously both struck with the impact of the Olympic Park. Let me continue on that thought. As luck would have it, the Olympic Park opened up to the public the very week we were in Beijing. We hadn’t planned to actually go in the buildings but only to drive by or take photos from the outside. However, timing was on our side and we were able to buy tickets to get inside the Water Cube and the Bird’s Nest.


I had heard theories that someone had come on board to offer Feng Shui advice as the Olympic Park was being put together, but then I heard that was not true. Our guide was pretty adamant that Feng Shui had been left out of the plan since, after all, "it was nothing more than superstition." However, as I got to see the buildings up close and personal and when especially I got into the Beijing Planning Museum, it was clear to me that Feng Shui had been integral to the layout of this Olympic Park.


Anyone who has visited the Forbidden City in Beijing will hear the story about how its front gate is facing directly south, the halls are facing south, and each of the thrones are facing south. This afforded the emperor (the son of heaven) to take advantage of this auspicious direction while he was ruling the Middle Kingdom. The south brought the warm winds and the sun. There is a meridian line that runs up from the south of Beijing, directly through Tiananmen Square and into the Forbidden City, past the Forbidden City and up into the northern part of Beijing. This same meridian line runs precisely between the Birds Nest and the Water Cube, linking it to the imperial strength and power of the emperor’s world. The Bird’s Nest is on the east side of the line; the Water Cube is on the west side.


The Chinese have a concept called san cai, or three treasures, which is built on the philosophy that balance is built on positive energy of heaven, earth, and mankind. One common way this is seen is in the ancient coins used by the Chinese during the Ming and Qing dynasties in which
the coin is round (heaven) with a square hole in the center (earth). The transfer of the coins from person to person captured the element of mankind. It is certainly no accident that the Bird’s Nest is round/oval and the Water Cube is square/rectangular with a walking path for people in-between. A creative blend of these three treasures.


Furthermore, the prevalent color for the Bird’s Nest is red; the color for the Water Cube is blue. Anyone who has studied Chinese philosophy knows that the Five Element Theory is a foundational system for the Chinese. And that red (or fire) and blue (water) is a particularly potent combination. The two together will assure action since sparks are bound to occur, as evidenced by the abundance of fireworks that occurred during the Olympics. This fire/water juxtaposition had to be intentional.

So whether anyone wants to admit it or not, it seems apparent to me the Olympic Park was very carefully positioned to tap into a meridian that assured a dramatic display of power and very purposefully constructed to bring about the jolt of energy that propelled the event to new heights—and most definitely assured them of a successfully creative production.

Re-Defining Feng Shui Travel

Tomorrow I leave for China (Saturday, October 11th). This will be the fifth time my husband and I have taken students to the land of Feng Shui. Every year we condense our lives into one suitcase per person. You’d think I’d be used to the procedure by now. But, no. Each year I decide two days before we leave that the clothes I was intending to take aren’t going to work—they’ll be too warm, they won’t be warm enough, they won’t hold up in rain, they won’t hold up to multiple use.

But it isn’t just the clothes. We have people live at our home while we’re gone to tend to our precious cats. So I’ve been cleaning. This is not my favorite activity and it takes way too much time. Of course, I have to stock up on two weeks’ worth of cat food. After all the times we’ve made this trip, you’d think I’d know exactly how many cans of food I should buy, but I stand in the pet food store, imagining my little cherubs pining with loneliness----will they then eat less food? Or will they bury their distress by eating more? It would help if I counted the cans before I left on each of these trips and then counted them when I returned.

I thought about making a time-line for this process, but as I was putting it together in my mind, there are many circumstances peculiar to this trip that wouldn’t apply to any of the others. Which requires being in the moment. Which is the reason packing is such a challenge for me. Which brings me back to my clothes.

You see, as a good Feng Shui consultant who tries to walk her talk, I have learned that each day I should "tune in" to not only the upcoming events of the day, but the weather, my mood, my energy level, and my preferences. According to these factors, I would then select the right outfit to help me get through the day with utmost harmony and balance. If I needed a little more fire, I could select something red to wear; if I was feeling a little under the weather, I might choose something yellow.

Unfortunately I don’t have the luxury of bringing all the clothing options which that kind of consideration requires. So I have to anticipate and hope for the best, which is why packing takes me so long. I watch my husband take shirts out of the closet, two pairs of pants, two pairs of shoes, his toiletry bag and in 30 seconds he’s done. He never seems to have a wardrobe meltdown where he’s standing in the hotel trying to decide what shirt to wear and realizing his shoes don’t match the one belt he brought and people are on the bus waiting for him to make up his mind which is hard to do because he’s also having a bad hair day and is still looking for something that expresses the element of earth. No, he just grabs an outfit and feels fine about it. He maintains equanimity with Feng Shui grace and style throughout the whole day and late into the night. There’s a lesson here for me. Maybe the Feng Shui flow isn’t about wardrobe perfection but perfection with what is, no matter what the outfit. Oh brother, I need to re-pack (again).

E-mail Derail - Feng Shui to the Rescue

I am very particular about my space----most of that is due to my background in Feng Shui studies but some of it is due to my mother’s training. Nevertheless, I am typically fastidious about things around our home. When life takes me on a temporary whirlwind, the stress for me increases because of the clutter that I’m faced with every day because of my schedule. I simply don’t have time to deal with it so when I see it, I become even more agitated.

One area that has become nearly crippling for me is the issue of emails. I get, on average, 30 to 40 a day. How can that be? I’m not a US Senator, I’m not running for office, I don’t have an on-line business. But truthfully, if I’m gone all day for whatever reason, when I return home I know that when I turn on my computer there will be an enormous amount that’s stacked up in my absence.

Of course, a lot of those emails I delete immediately as they hold no interest for me. If I can get my name off their email list, I’ll unsubscribe, but some of these sales pitches don’t allow me that option. Isn’t there a law about that? Nevertheless, I still face close to 20 emails daily which require some kind of action on my part. I struggle to keep my current email list below 100 at any one time. What is wrong with this picture, I ask myself ?

When I’m so adamant about my physical surroundings, I am understandably annoyed and befuddled by the computer clutter. For about five days this summer, my old computer crashed and I didn’t have one. My delight in being able to have a normal day without my nose in a laptop was lessened by the reality that, when I did get back on-line, I’d have more emails than I could bear. And that’s how it played out.

Sometimes I will take 2-3 hours on a day when I have some time and go through them one-by-one, with the idea that I’ll make a decision about a particular email, take action, move on to the next one, until I’ve gotten through them all. The issue always seems to be that the first ones I look at require a couple hours each of my time-----submit an article, send my curriculum vitae (needs updating), write a letter of recommendation, plan a course. These aren’t easy one-two requests.

I’ve decided that I’m going to enlist my Feng Shui expertise in finding a way to slow this influx of communication down to a more manageable flow. I’m not sure what this means, but I’m desperate. I’ve got a few ideas in mind and will experiment and let you know what worked and what didn’t. Since I’ve been writing this blog, I’ve received five additional emails (I would know this because my computer dings when a new one comes in). I know I’m not alone with this problem, so in the interest of all of us who struggle with computer infringement, I will begin my research now and let you all know. Oop---another computer ding.

Sale or No Sale

Lately, about one-third of the people who contact me for Feng Shui guidance are trying to sell their homes. These people are looking for some kind of insight about how to rise above a depressed market. These aren’t just local folks, but people from all over the country.

Understandably, there’s a desperation in the tone of their voice or their written words----particularly because usually something else is hinging on this sale. Sometimes the new job has already started so the spouse who needs to relocate has left already. Sometimes the current owners have a contingency offer on the house of their dreams and are despondent around just the thought of losing it. Sometimes they’ve even bought another house and are now facing an uncertain future with two house payments. It’s obvious that many of the people who call me wouldn’t normally do so under different circumstances. Desperation moves people to try just about anything, even Feng Shui.

Luckily, about close to half of my clients who have called me in to help sell their homes actually end up selling shortly after our time together. They’re the believers----Feng Shui is the greatest tradition around. Where else in their lives can they put this magic to work? they ask. If Feng Shui can sell their house, think of the other possibilities. The other half of my clients are not as pleased. Feng Shui didn’t work, they announce. Of course, that upside St. Joseph statue didn’t do much either.

So why some homes and not others? I have all these clients run through the same protocol----clean out the basement first to "lift anchor," remove photos of themselves and family members to neutralize the space, begin packing (which should involve some valuable sorting and throwing), write a letter to the house thanking it for all it has done for them over the years (this is especially helpful if the people didn’t particularly like the house; it helps to bring about a nice closure). We discuss whether someone might be hanging on to the house, consciously or unconsciously. We discuss whether an entity might have settled in and won’t let it go. We micro-manage the northwest or Helpful People area of the house.

And still some houses don’t sell. To say it’s a matter of timing to someone who needs to get out from under a mortgage payment isn’t very comforting. Yet, when all else fails, that seems to be the only reason left on the table. It simply isn’t the right time. Feng Shui can shift and manipulate energy, but there are limits. Evidently a very hard lesson has to be learned here----perhaps about impulsively jumping into something before looking at all consequences. Maybe the lesson is about listening to one’s own intuition (countless people stuck with homes on the market say to me they had a funny feeling about trying to sell right now----just didn’t feel right). Maybe the lesson is about realistic expectations with regard to a selling price.

I wish I had the magic wand that put "Sold" on all those real estate signs. There’s a house two doors down from us that was sold once but came back on the market because the buyers couldn’t sell their home. Every time I see the sign in their yard (again), I’m sad for them. And I’m sad for the house because it is sitting empty. Whenever I see potential buyers going in to look at it, I smile and wave from my front yard----my small effort to make the neighborhood seem appealing and irresistible. That’s not working either.

Who Are We To Judge?

This week I had a Feng Shui practitioner from out of state contact me with an issue in her own space. As it happens with all of us, we’re blinded when it comes to our own situation. We may be nothing short of brilliant in a stranger’s home or office, eloquently honing in on their problems, delivering the message with authority mixed with a blend of kindness, looking them straight in the eye lest they try to avoid our forthright message. Yet when it comes to our own house, we’re dead in the water.

So it was with Ruth. She knew something wasn’t right, couldn’t get a problem to turn around, felt like she had done everything she possibly could and didn’t have a support system in the area where she lived. Things were getting desperate, so she went on-line and found me. Ruth spoke easily about the directional aspects she’d worked with, the blessings and ceremonies she’d performed in the space, and the bagua. It seemed she was highly trained in several Feng Shui modalities. There wasn’t anything I said that was unfamiliar to her nor did she once say "I don’t understand."

We spent a good 20 - 30 minutes discussing the situation, me asking her specifics about the ceremonies, had she thought of this? had she tried that? She had indeed covered the gamut. I was impressed with the respectful and professional way she had handled each adjustment or ceremony, allowing an appropriate amount of time to kick in. A good deal of our phone time was spent with me being a mirror to her words while she talked about the problem and the illusive solution. I was also impressed with her depth of knowledge and found the conversation stimulating. Together we decided on a course of action----one which she actually hadn’t considered.

I finally asked her with whom she studied. It’s the question I strongly suggest people always pose to a prospective Feng Shui consultant. There is no right answer to this question as long as they provide the name of someone and don’t say: "I’ve read some books." In line with the oral tradition that so many of the Chinese modalities followed, it’s important that an expert, Feng Shui or otherwise, have studied with someone. There’s an eye-to-eye and heart-to-heart transmission that happens, which, in my opinion, infuses the material with its power.

Imagine my surprise when Ruth’s answer to that very same question was "I’ve read a lot of books." I hung up the phone speechless and dumb-struck. Her depth of wisdom and intellectual understanding denied any lack of training. I'm not sure it still isn't the appropriate question to ask a consultant, but in this case, Ruth certainly defied the odds.

Yin-Yang on a Stick

I’m not much of a State Fair-goer. Left to my own, I would never go—too many people, food doesn’t agree with me, get sick on rides, it’s often hot, it’s often rainy, the list goes on. However, I’m married to a man who LOVES the Fair. He’s not originally from Minnesota so finds it fascinating and unusual how our Fair is so heavily promoted and how everyone who is anyone goes. So, I go to the Fair with him.

It’s fun to see him so excited about it all—he loves the animal barns (don’t know why since he wasn’t a farmer growing up). He loves eating corn dogs (which he’d never eat at home) and he gets a major kick out of seeing the flower arrangements (although he is a gardener, flower arranging isn’t his passion). I guess the Fair just gets people out of their normal lives. I’m sort of a curmudgeon when we go----I refuse to walk through the Midway and I’m super fussy about food. It takes me a while to adjust to all the yang energy. This year, I decided to see if I could create a better balance for myself and went in search of some yin spots.

There have to be other people like me who find it all too much. Well, to them I say take heart, I did find a couple places during which I could gather myself together, if only for a moment. One was the sky ride. Here we were safely tucked into a little pod all by ourselves and sent up and over the foray where we could quietly look down on the masses. That was a helpful relief when I needed it and it went slowly enough that it didn’t upset my stomach. We went through Ye Old Mill----a very out-dated but funky ride that takes you on a tunnel of love experience. It’s quiet, dark, and very moist----couldn’t get more yin than that.

I thought the fine arts center would provide some quiet time, but not so. Everyone was jockeying and elbowing. The Birthing Center did offer some nice moments—people seemed to respect the mothers and their new babies, so there were nano-seconds of quiet awe. I had heard there was a meditation tent, but couldn’t find it. When it got too bad, I’d have some little doughnuts which gave me temporary relief. Nothing like a little sugar to put balance between yin and yang.

I guess the State Fair isn’t meant to be a quiet, meaningful day, but rather a head-on collision with stimulation. That’s why most people love it so much. And I must admit, I enjoy watching my husband turn into a kid, trying to figure out where to run first.

Floored in the Garage

This week we had our garage floor re-coated. It wasn’t as simple as all that since they had to grind down the crumbling cement, and apply several coats of epoxy-like substances.
As with most projects, this started when we were naively sweeping out the garage this spring. We noticed that another winter had affected the floor even more than last year, causing the cement to disintegrate even further. That Monday I was on the phone getting bids to fix the problem. It took only a day to complete, probably due to the expertise, good-humor, and good looks of the two guys working on it.

The obvious Feng Shui slant to this is that our garage is on the left-hand third of our house. Depending on your perspective that could translate as being in the Knowledge, Family and Wealth area or the northeast, east, and southeast areas. Either way, a substantial part of our lives was experiencing foundational breakdown. So, in a word, from a physical standpoint that issue has been addressed.

The other Feng Shui piece to our garage floor has to do with the change in energy. I had no idea the results of this project would be so pervasive. Several times each day I am confronted with the shift----for obvious starters, every time I go in and out of the garage to get in my car. But also, I realized I am in there at least once if not twice each day with some recycling. We keep the plant food in the garage. Some of our tools are stored in the garage. When I need a box, we collapse them and put them in the garage. The plastic bags for gardening are stored there as well. The bottom line is that I love going in the garage. I can go in there barefoot. I let the cats play in there now---it felt creepy to me before. Sounds are even different inside the garage. When I close my car door, when I open the back door, when I walk around, it just resonates differently----solidly.

Such a small, seemingly insignificant change----such a huge change in my daily pattern. It feels like the garage is truly a part of our house now, pointing out that I evidently hadn’t felt that way before. Just when I think I know my house, I have a new experience like this. I guess you could say, yes, I was floored.

Two Sides to the Olympics

Even if you hadn’t watched the opening ceremony of the Olympics, by now you’ve heard how over-the-top they were. Each moment was nothing short of breath-taking and left you wondering "how did they do that?" I think everyone marveled at the enormity of the ceremony just from the sheer numbers of people it took to pull off most of these routines. If I heard correctly, no one had to perform twice, so we’re really talking a lot of people.

I conjecture that part of the appeal of the ceremony was the innate balance that unfolded----the mingling of fire and water, rigidity and flow, dark and light, children and warriors, marching soldiers and dancing calligraphers, yin and yang. Each sequence was balanced by the sequence prior and the one after. How appropriate the arena was termed the "bird’s nest" since at times a phoenix all but flew out the top, symbolic of China’s rise and re-birth.


Having studied Chinese history while recently in graduate school, I know there were periods of history when the Chinese wanted to not only forget their past, but destroy it as well----the cultural revolution being the most recent movement. But this night, they remembered----their calligraphy, their printing blocks, their tai qi. Hopefully those of us who study Feng Shui noticed a mock-up of an original compass with the spoon. They proudly claimed these aspects as part of who the Chinese are, even down to walking in the athletes based on the number of character strokes in their country names, not in alphabetical order. For the last century, the Chinese have been trying to accommodate this language disparity by romanizing their characters so those of us learning it could alphabetize and find things. Not this evening. It was done the Chinese way.

Perhaps the most important piece that fell into place was to break the idea that "made in China" means cheap and slip-shod. I pity the next city who hosts the summer Olympics—this was a first-class act and will be a hard one to follow.

Feng Shui Perfection

Sometimes I’m a stranger in my own town. I’ve lived in Minneapolis all but three years of my adult life, yet I was just recently introduced to a part of the city I had never been, which, as it turns out, it is probably the most perfect Feng Shui spot around.

I had heard of Centennial Lakes Park, a man-made area integrating condos, townhomes, offices and retail space. But I never seemed to have the time to explore it, or it wasn’t convenient, or something. A couple nights ago my neighbor invited me to go with her as she walked her dog.

Understand that my husband and I live near Lake Harriet in south Minneapolis where people can bike, walk, or jog around the lake. Most people have their I-pods plugged into their ears and are oblivious to anything else. When I do walk around the lake, I feel like I need to keep up or get out of the way of the power walkers. We also live on Minnehaha Parkway which provides more walking and bike paths meandering with the flow of Minnehaha Creek. At times these paths get downright remote and isolated, rustic even. So I’m familiar with walking by
water and have done my share.

Centennial Lakes, however, takes these concepts and creates what I see as the perfect Feng Shui experience. The paths are indeed centered around water, like the above examples, but that’s about where any similarities end. The walk is about a mile-and-a-half around the whole lake. For most of the way, their paths lead you around the lake in an obvious course, but then intermittently will diverge into two separate options, eventually merging back into a single walkway, providing a new view so you'd never tire of the scenery. There are tons of places to sit and in a variety of ways----park benches, benches where you can rest your back up against a tree, benches tucked behind some hedges, benches out on a peninsula overlooking the water, benches perched high up on some rocks to give a higher focus, double swings where couples could sit and talk, or where this particular evening three young girls could laugh hysterically at a recent text message, lawn chairs, rocks strategically placed by the water, picnic tables. If you needed to rest, you were not out of luck.

If you wanted to be more active, you could rent a paddle boat or a gondalier could provide you a Venice-like ride around the park. A labyrinth lured some people into its mystery. There was a putting course, a croquet lawn, bridges spanned across the water. People with dogs, people without dogs, people in wheel-chairs, people with kids and dogs, classical music coming from somewhere, lights emphasizing certain areas.

Maybe it had an artificial feel; it was, after all, a fabricated setting. Some would argue that this isn't truly nature but a polished substitute. But people were engaged. No power walkers here. I didn’t see one I-pod. Everyone said hello, everyone was smiling. People were ambling and strolling. I didn’t want it to end. The next night I took my husband back and the experience was just as great. We came home refreshed, renewed, uplifted----isn’t that what a true Feng Shui spot should do?

Are We Still Weird?

Hardly a week goes by that Feng Shui doesn’t appear in the news. Sometimes it’s a mere mention of some celebrity incorporating its principles in a remodel or a new house. Sometimes it’s advertised as a selling point for a model home built by some upper-end builder. It might be mentioned in connection to a clinic that used a Feng Shui consultant to help bring about a harmonious environment. For those of us who have been in the Feng Shui world long enough, it’s gratifying to see it go mainstream. Not too many people are raising their eyebrows anymore.

Recently there was an article in our local Minneapolis paper about young Iranians who are expressing an interest in self-help books and motivational speakers. In fact, the book "The Secret" is in its tenth printing in Farsi. There’s a big interest in yoga and meditation and "advertising abounds on the virtues of feng shui and financial management."

You’d think I’d consider this good news. I should be happy that the benefits of wind and water have reached global proportions. No longer does a writer have to explain what Feng Shui is, but instead treats it as a matter of fact, presuming any reader will have enough recognition of the term to know the reference. I can present no argument to the contrary.

The issue for me is that this little snippet occurred in a weekly column called "News of the Weird." This column is typically one of my favorites. I look for it every Thursday to see what weird things people are doing. Most of the time, the stories are truly absurd----a thief who left his phone number behind during a robbery because he lost his glasses, or someone who collects and sorts rubber bands to the extent that he opened a rubber band museum, or the recurrence of the middle name "Wayne" in notorious prisoners. This is mind-boggling date describing the absurdity of people’s behavior or their bizarre situations. Those are the kinds of stories I expect to read about.

I challenge the appropriateness of the article about the Iranians for this column. Is this really weird news? Isn’t it more interesting news? Or uplifting news? Or hopeful news? My husband thinks I’m too sensitive and should just be happy Feng Shui and financial management were mentioned in the same phrase within the same sentence. Perhaps that’s true. But sometimes when many of us are working so hard to get us out of weirdness and into normalcy, even a small mention in the opposite direction ruffles my feathers.

From One Owner to the Next

We love our house. It has been the perfect home for my husband and me and, for a few years, my stepson. We love the size, the location, the garden----well, everything. Okay, we do wish we had a two-car garage sometimes, but other than that it has been the best house for us. There’s one major reason this house is so special.

Many years ago we were lucky enough to have bought our home from a friend. We knew her when she lived in the house, witnessed her change in life-plans, bought her home when we realized we needed a bigger place, and now live here ourselves. In case you’re wondering, this amicable torch-passing is very good Feng Shui. We knew her reasons for leaving, what happened while she lived here, and knew the Feng Shui specifics of the space. Once we became the owners, we could shift the energy that needed to be transformed and keep what we wanted to build on.

It might be helpful for realtors to realize how important this was to us----not only buying from a friend, but also keeping her up-to-date with regard to the changes we made. I realize some previous owners would have a fit if their "perfect" home was altered by the new owners. But not in our case. Our dear friend rejoices in each and every change, no matter how big or small. And we’re always so excited to show her what we’ve done when she comes back to town. It’s as though we want her to approve and bless the changes. After all, she is an integral part of the legacy of our home.

It’s too bad old and new owners couldn’t become friends, help each other through the transitions of moving out and moving in, share the intricacies of the home, relate stories of what took place in the house. Instead the buyers and sellers often don’t even meet for fear some sort of fight will break out. I’m concerned when someone has bought a new/different house but in the process legal problems and animosity arose between the buyer and the seller. This is a predecessor issue which could plague the new owners for years to come.

Perhaps our story is unrealistic in today’s world. For the first few years we owned the house, we all referred to the house as "our" home. We’d tell her about something we’d changed or done, referring to it as "our" home----acknowledging her ownership and keeping her as part of the experience. She’d ask how "our" house was or "our" garden. I loved it. Recently I received an email from her when she referred to the house as a temple that had been handed from one owner to the next. We didn’t create that temple alone, I can assure you. In the work that she did and the infusion of Feng Shui energy she put in the structure, she had as much a part in how this house is functioning today as we do. For this we thank you, dear friend, and "our" temple continues to thank you.

Back to Nature

In teaching and living the principles of Feng Shui, I am acutely aware of how disconnected we’ve become from the influence of nature. My husband and I are city folk and, although we have an ample yard, the shade trees and squirrels derail any efforts to grow our own vegetables. So last year we joined a community supported farm in order to bring some fresh food into our kitchen.
There is an abundance of these farms around here (and I’m sure everywhere) who grow organic, pesticide-free produce. Those of us who have paid into their efforts receive a weekly bag beginning some time in June containing whatever is being harvested. As anyone who has ever taken part in these community farms knows, it’s not unusual to get some mystery things, but our farm sends an accompanying sheet explaining what is all included and some recipes for its use.

What I love the most about this experience is the dirt. These vegetables come with the dirt and mud still caked on them. The eggs may still have some straw stuck to the outside of the shell. It’s almost as though I’ve dug the veggies out myself or gathered the eggs from under the chickens with my own two hands. I realize how important that is to me when I have to buy produce in the store, after the farm has closed up for the year. The potatoes are all washed and neatly stacked; the lettuce is in similar sized bundles, freed of any offending dirt. The eggs are in cartons. There’s something not natural about that.

Of course, we go to the farmers’ markets around our home. For the most part those vendors aren’t afraid to leave the dirt on their vegetables either. But the difference is that the vegetables we get from our farm were harvested with us in mind----not specifically us as in my husband and me, but all of us who support them. Without us, they wouldn’t be boxing up those vegetables that end up in our kitchens.

The other advantage to having this food show up on our doorstep is that it gets us cooking. Not wanting to waste this precious source of ch’i, we cook together, look for other recipes, try different combinations. I like to call this generational Feng Shui—where one intention brings one change, but leads to another one that hadn’t even been considered. Buying organic food to help out the agricultural community and to have good food leads to us to spending more creative and quality time together. That illustrates the true flow of nature.

Time in a Muddle

My computer crashed a couple days ago. This email comes to you through a circuitous route, because, as many of you know, recovering from a disaster like that doesn't occur over night. For all of you who have shared your experiences of computer meltdowns and heard me smugly say something about “you should have backed up your data,” or “you have to use fire walls,” I apologize. We backed up, we had fire walls, the thing still died.

The last few years, I had some sickening awareness that I was getting just too dependent on my computer, but when I suddenly didn't have it at all, I was appalled at my helplessness. I had transferred phone numbers as well as emails to the computer. A fleeting thought of calling someone to discuss a project or an appointment, or even to let them know why I wasn't emailing, was foiled when I realized I had no other record of their existence except what I had recorded on my computer. Yes, we'll eventually retrieve the data, but we're dealing with a weekend here when tech help is somewhat limited.

In an experience like this, there's always a yin and a yang, a counter-balance to some polarizing event. I couldn't imagine what the proverbial silver lining would be other than to put a check on my over-bearing confidence and express some true empathy for those who have gone through the same ordeal. I wasn't expecting the enlightened moment, until I was preparing for a 9:30 meeting the next day. It was 8:30 when I looked at my watch and I was ready to go. How did that happen? Was the clock wrong? Ahhhh—no computer to suck me in---no computer to tie up my precious minutes----no last-minute emails to answer. I had some time on my hands.

Talk about flow. Over the weekend, I've gotten some long overdue ironing done. I cleaned out some file drawers. I picked peonies from our garden and put bouquets all over our house. I played with my cats, much to their initial mistrust and to their eventual delight. I took a nap. I had to admit my computer had taken over my life, depriving me of some very simple pleasantries.

In a day or so I expect I'll be back up and running as normal. From another perspective, I'm grateful I'm only worrying about losing a few pieces of data and not shoveling mud from my living room as many Iowa people have been doing over the weekend. But on the other hand, I learned, despite my mantra of “I wish I had more time,” I do have time. Out of the perceived chaos, the pathway to time became evident. As happens in Feng Shui, sometimes your things or your space will provide you the kick in the pants you need to move forward, or to see the light, or to find the time.

Car Shui

This past week I bought a new car. The car I was currently driving, although I loved it, was going to require some major work----in my opinion, not worth the investment. Finding an appropriate car for me can be an ordeal. I won’t drive just anything, mind you. Most of my friends say something like "It’s just a car" or "What’s the big deal?" Well, not me. My car holds a lot of importance in my world; that has been true even BFS (before Feng Shui)----as far back as I can remember I took great pleasure in driving a spiffy car. My motto is: If I’m not looking good in my car, then something’s wrong. When I get out of my car at the grocery store, or post office, or anywhere, and someone (a stranger preferably) says "nice car," then I’ve got the right automobile for me. We could analyze why that has so much importance to me and what could be lacking in my life to desperately seek that kind of approval from strangers. But we won’t.

The colors of my last car were based on the elements I needed from my Four Pillars analysis (fire and earth, red and tan). I made those colors work beautifully in a sharp red car with a tan convertible top. Too bad its life-span was so short. This time I wanted something different. Having just completed the study of Fashion Feng Shui, I decided to go in that direction. Believe it or not, I had my color swatches with me at the dealership. I matched a car color to my eye color. My husband rolled his eyes when he heard this.

I also name my cars. In the last years because of my endless tenacity in learning Chinese, I’ve given them Chinese names. My red and earth colored car was called hong bao, Chinese for red envelope. By the time I drove my new car home, I had already discovered its name----green jade carpet (luyu ditu). It’s a take-off on a red carpet, get it? —flying to magical places, soaring through space to faraway spots. Part of the reason I picked that is because I know all those words in Chinese—yes, amazingly, I even know the word for carpet.

So "green jade carpet" ("green jade" for short) and I are getting used to each other. It has an intelligence key which is truly more intelligent that I am. It wasn’t until we got it home that we realized it’s the same color as our house! It will take a while for us to figure out the significance behind that. As with any new adjustment on the physical level, new adjustments could come forward on other levels as well. As I change the image of my car, I may be in for some image changes myself.

The Bandwagon is Full

I’m on my high-horse today. Sometimes a small, seemingly inconsequential thing will annoy me to no end. And it’s happening lately. There seems to be a need to grab a popular concept (in this case Feng Shui) and link it to something else, something totally unrelated, or slightly related but not enough to make it valid.

A couple months ago I saw an article about Feng Shui Yoga. I read it with great anticipation that some enlightened connection that hadn’t occurred to me would be brought forth between these two philosophies. I do yoga; I do Feng Shui----it never occurred to me to blend the two. I couldn’t wait to see how this would be done. The author continued to refer to Feng Shui Yoga, continued to build up my expectations about what this might be, but before I knew it, I was at the end of the article. There was never a clear definition of what made it different from regular yoga, or any other kind of yoga for that matter. I was irritated that someone would use the Feng Shui tag to lure readers to their article----the title was effective because I did indeed read the whole thing, but I didn’t like it.

Then a student of mine forwarded a link to a web page for a Feng Shui Beauty package. You could get a Feng Shui haircut, a Feng Shui manicure and pedicure, and a Feng Shui makeup application (all for $205). How the heck does this work? The reader was assured they’d be aligned with the seen and unseen forces of nature if they would come to their salon to experience the art of Feng Shui. Huh?

I was shopping for groceries the other day and bought, out of curiosity, Feng Shui crackers. Maybe they had an Asian flair because there were some flecks of kelp in them, but, gee, does that qualify them to be Feng Shui crackers? What’s next? Feng Shui deodorant? Feng Shui pantyhose? Maybe we wouldn’t feel bad about paying so much for gas if we were using Feng Shui petrol? Where will it end?

Maybe I should change my attitude and look at it another way. Perhaps because Feng Shui is popular, all of these examples are attempts to grab on to some of that popularity. I believe there’s a word for this: entrainment----when one item vibrating in a certain way affects an item positioned next to it causing it to vibrate in the same way. I think there's another word for this: tacky. Well, I’m off to take my Feng Shui car to the Feng Shui mall and look for a pair of white Feng Shui shoes.

San Fran Ch'i

My husband and I just returned from San Francisco where we proudly witnessed the graduation of his son from San Francisco State. We spent a few extra days hanging out with him and letting him play tour guide. He loves the city and was happy to show us his favorite places. I’ve traveled a lot but for some reason was struck by the difference in ch’i between what I’m used to here in Minneapolis and what I experienced in San Francisco.

Perhaps I’m stating the obvious, but for me the energy in San Francisco and that of Minneapolis might be in the category of polar opposites. I think sometimes here in the Midwest we get content, even lethargic. We get into a groove and are often reluctant to shift into something else. We love our routines. There’s no time for routines in California. For one thing, there may be an earthquake at any time that could change everything. So people are on the go, on the move, up and out, on a fast track. Don’t take this as a blast against us Minnesotans, but our lifestyle is, well, slower.

For one thing, people in San Francisco live closer together, and they put up with it. They eat in very small restaurants at crowded tables. We need our space here in Minnesota. Most of the California people I met don’t have cars----come on, we’d never endure the inconvenience of that, let alone the loss of independence. Of course, San Francisco has so much public transit that it’s down-right easy to get around without a car. We rented a car for our recent visit and spent endless amounts of time trying to park the thing----no space, or if there was space, not big enough. I didn’t see one over-weight person in San Francisco, I’m sure it’s because they have to walk to the transit station, or the bus stop. I did see one very obese woman in Chinatown, but the camera around her neck was evidence that she was a tourist.

In my opinion, the ch’i in San Francisco is nearly electric. It’s exciting, progressive, on-the-edge (probably because that next earthquake could be the big one). It left me breathless at times, even exhilarated. I’d love to live there. I think I could do very well there. The truth is I’d love to live there if I was younger. I’d love living there more if I was assured of a decent income. Oh yes, it was good to come home and slow down a bit. I was happy to get in my car again and get somewhere on my own time table. Nevertheless, a part of me is still in San Francisco, thinking about what it would be like to be part of that energy. I hear a song coming on......

The Muffin Tree

Fifteen years ago my husband moved to Minnesota so we could begin our lives together. One of the few things he brought with him was an old cat named Muffin. After the first hour of being together, Muffin and I were bonded. I forgot she was his cat and not mine----I think Muffin forgot it too. By default my husband let go of any ownership of her as well. It was clear to all she and I were meant to be together.

A few years later, by some unusual circumstances, we given a June berry tree to plant in our front yard. The day we planted the tree, Muffin hobbled her nineteen-year-old body out to oversee the project. In Feng Shui fashion, my husband and I placed a couple of special meaningful objects in the hole while she watched. Since she seemed to want to take part in the proceedings, I brushed a bit of her fur and placed it in there as well. When we were done, Muffin wasted no time in blessing it in her own way, which entailed a lot of circling and trunk-rubbing. Thereafter we deemed it the Muffin tree. That was her last summer with us.

A few days ago the Muffin tree exploded with brilliant white flowers. Even though it’s been ten years, I remember the day we dedicated it to her as though it was yesterday. Each spring it’s as though she returns to remind us of the wonderful years we had together and the day we planted a very intentional tree. I always have to ask my husband what kind of tree it really is as I can’t remember its name, knowing it only as the Muffin tree. We have other cats now who are not nearly as interested in this story as I am. However, I will always be grateful for the gentle reminders of a special kitty.

Thinking Outside the Box

I’m evidently into boxes. I blogged earlier about using a box to organize my desk, throwing everything into the box at night so that when I walked in the next day, I would be met with a clean, clear desk. I’ve loved the idea and have integrated it wholly into my routine. A few weeks ago I realized that the box idea isn’t a new one to me----I’ve organized my life by a box method. Back in the 70's I started putting together memory boxes rather than the proverbial scrapbooks. I would cover a sturdy box and lid with decorative paper and put in everything I wanted to keep for that year----pictures, birthday cards, memorabilia. The next year, I’d start a new box.

About 20 years into that process, I had a lot of boxes, as you can imagine, so I began a consolidation. First it was into five-year increments, then a few years ago I condensed it to ten year spans. As I went through each box, I had an opportunity to remember some moments, look over some old theater tickets, try to recall why some of the miscellaneous stuff might have been important. I had a birthday card from someone named Joan----I no longer remember who she was. It was easy to let a lot of it go.

So now I’m questioning the whole idea. Does anyone care what I looked like in 1976? or who sent me birthday cards? Perhaps the better question is whether I care? On one hand it’s my data, my history; on the other hand it’s in the past. I don’t have children who will one day cherish a photo of me in my bell bottom jeans. I guess I’m aware that at some point in universal time, all this stuff will be recycled by someone, never to be seen again. Shouldn’t that be me taking care of this while I can? Of course there’s always the possibility someone will want to write an extensive autobiography about me after I’m dead and will want any and all photos and memorabilia they can find. Then again.....

I ask myself WWFSD? (What would Feng Shui do?) I know the mantra that less is more, simplify, simplify, yet I also know the underlying Taoist belief about flow. Perhaps there’s no set answer, but instead a compromise. Maybe there’s the ultimate memory box where eventually the memories of the most important parts of my life end up, but there are interim boxes leading up to that point. That way my stuff is always moving around, I’m regularly assessing where it should go, as I choose to move it to another box or relinquish it altogether. No stagnent ch’i here. Yes, indeed, I do like those boxes.

Ch'i Over the Years

Ten years ago this September, following a distant call, I gathered the first class of what would eventually become the Wind and Water School of Feng Shui. To say that the program has evolved from those days is the proverbial understatement. Those who took part in that first group don’t even recognize what the training has become.

Not that those first classes were any less valid or substantive than they are now, but my approach has changed. I’ve re-arranged and re-formatted the hand-outs, changed teaching venues a couple times, added faculty, met the qualifications to become licensed as an official school by the Minnesota Department of Higher Education Services. And, bottom line, I teach the material differently. All of these changes have been exciting, appropriate, and in line with the flow of the ch’i.

Luckily, however, one thing has not changed in all these years----the faces. One of the pure delights I cherish is being able to watch the faces of my students as the light bulbs go on, as the words bring new insights, as they realize the possibilities. It was one of the first things I observed ten years ago, and it still happens with every group of students. It reminds me of my own journey. That ride is pretty exhilarating, that’s for sure.

I also know from experience that when you’re in a group having break-throughs, processing issues, supporting one another, making plans for the future, a bond happens. Feng Shui is no different. Some of the past classes still meet informally even though their classroom experience was years ago. I still have a dear friend who, at the time of our mutual study paths, was living in Florida and now lives in Pennsylvania. We wouldn’t think of going to a Feng Shui conference or take up another line of Feng Shui study without one another.

This past weekend one of my classes reached a mid-point in their studies. After a short ceremony to mark the occasion, they wanted to forever hold the moment so we took a picture. I want to share the photo with you to show you what I’m talking about.

It’s hard not to smile when you look at their faces. I thank them and all the prior students for blessing me with their open hearts.

Of course, nothing says "bonding" better than a group hug.

.

Enlightenment

A couple weeks ago I found myself engaged in light fixtures. One fixture project was planned, the other an unexpected surprise. To wrap up a kitchen remodel we started four plus years ago, my husband and I bought some pendulum lights for over the counter and the sink. Part of the delay in getting lights was due to the fact that we didn’t know what we wanted and were overwhelmed by the options. The other contributing factor was that we just wanted to be done with the remodel, with or without lights. So we shelved the idea until later.

One recent weekend we found what we wanted rather unexpectedly. When the lights were installed, it was as though the whole remodeling project took on a new life. And we were pleased all over again. At the same time, Debbie, a student of mine, gave me a small lamp with a lovely Asian flair----marking the end of her Feng Shui studies with me. I thought it curious that, within a few days, all this new light was appearing.

The kitchen pendulums had designated spots but the little lamp needed to find its home. I had it in my office, our bedroom, the entry, but nothing worked right. I found what I thought would be a suitable place in the dining room but then realized it was too close to the kitchen, competing with those pendulums.

So, I took a Feng Shui approach. Since the kitchen lights were in the south and center of our house (Fame and Health), I decided to complete that line of thought and place the lamp along the same axis----in the north (Career). I walked into the living room, lamp in hand, doubtful I’d find anything that would be appropriate. In fact, I saw the perfect spot on top of the television cabinet. The lamp nestled in next to some lucky bamboo as though it was always meant to be there.

I’m pondering the reality of having more light in my life. Feng Shui is the proverbial language of metaphor so there must be some message here, after all, the whole center third of my space/life has been lightened. Meanwhile until I fully understand the underlying meaning, I bask in the warm glow, grateful for the new vision it provides me.

Foiled Ch'i

One of the reasons, or perhaps THE reason, my husband and I bought the home we have is because it overlooks Minnehaha Creek. Not only is it scenic, but there are walking paths, bike paths, the sound of water----a perfect Feng Shui setting. Besides all that, there is a foot bridge that crosses over the creek and lands close by our driveway. When I was taking buses back and forth to campus during my graduate years, I would get off one stop short to be able to walk across the bridge to my house. It was though I was flying over the creek into another world where I got to live. I loved that walk.

A couple weeks ago there was a small sign with a chain draped on both ends of the bridge----"Warning: Bridge Closed." Some of the neighbors and I called the park & rec department who told us the bridge was not fit to be used; they were going to have to assess whether they could repair it or would have to replace it. Either way there was no money to do anything. The bridge was closed indefinitely.

The bridge closure has not only changed the way we take our walks and the way my husband does his morning jog, but countless other people walking their dogs or riding their bikes have come to a sudden stop at the foot of the bridge. A lot of people relied on that path to get across the creek.

Despite the warning sign, I saw people fearlessly step over the sign as though it wasn’t there. You’d think after they got a few steps onto the bridge and heard the creaking they would come scurrying back. I didn’t understand the young couple who, pushing their baby in a stroller, stepped over the chain/sign, laughing and jostling one another ignoring the sounds of a bridge ready to give way. Maybe because the sign was so small, it wasn’t getting respect. I was witness to a bicyclist who nearly flew over the embankment into the creek as he came barreling down the Bryant Avenue hill expecting to take the bridge. We called our friend at the park & rec again. The sign wasn’t working; we were afraid of a total collapse of the bridge right in front of our eyes. We suggested they put up more chains across the entrances to the bridge. That way, we, the neighbors, could still see the bridge, enjoy the scenic aspect we all love, yet there would be no way anyone would be able to get on it.

Yesterday, the park & rec department came by with their own solution to the problem. I don’t know if they were mad about the disregard for their nice little sign, but what they left behind is nothing short of an eyesore. I can’t wait for the graffiti to start. I’d say this warrants another call to our park & rec friend.

Painting Lessons

This past week I painted our entry and the hallway going upstairs. It’s something I had been wanting to do since we bought our new furniture and I realized the green walls no longer worked. Nevertheless, it felt like a daunting task----lots of taping and corners and high places. I figured I’d drag my husband into the project over the course of a couple weekends, during which we’d bicker over the details and the time it was taking. I dreaded the thought of going through the process of picking a new color. But I reached a point when I disliked the green color more than the prospect of painting.

When my husband announced he was going to a conference for four days, I saw this as my opportunity to move forward with the project on my own. Of course, when the timing is right, flow happens. With hardly any hesitation, I found a gold color that both of us liked. During the time he was gone, I decided how much I could realistically accomplish without exhausting myself. It took me all four days of his absence to finish the parts I could do on my own, which actually was the majority of the job.

The best part is that I found the work meditative, relaxing, and rewarding. I took my time; I pondered my intentions with each roller of warm gold paint; I stopped when I said I was going to; and I basked in the accomplishment of each day. Every night when we spoke on the phone, I would tell my husband what I had done, wall-by-wall, and he would enthusiastically encourage me to move forward. When he came home, I had to enlist him for only a couple hours to finish the very high parts.

Today every time I look at the entry and the hallway, I remember the quiet moments that went into transforming the energy and the great intentions infused in the paint. It’s more yang now----a lighter, cleaner color than before. It also reminded me of the many times my own dad would decide to paint our walls when I was growing up. For some reason, it was almost an annual affair and most of the time he wasn’t even changing the color----just freshening things up. He’d always enlist my help to fetch him a rag, or stir the paint, or just sit and watch. He painted in a meditative way, too. I loved being there with him, watching him methodically move his brush. I’m sure that’s where I learned how to paint this way. How appropriate that memories of him came up for me since, coincidentally, I was painting in the Family area of our house. I wonder if ever so long ago while my dad was slowly dipping his brush and carefully getting into the corners, he, too, was infusing the walls with his own intentions.

It's a Small World After All

Last summer, the publisher of my first book "Wind and Water" failed to tell me they no longer had an inventory of this book, and furthermore they had no intention of reprinting it. So in the fall, I obtained the rights. Aware there was still an active readership, I began a long process of looking for a printer. The costs from domestic printers were astronomical, staggering even, and I knew I couldn’t fund something like that.

At about the same time, I had a conversation with a past student of mine from Michigan who had just written her own Feng Shui and gardening book. I was lamenting my dilemma when she gave me the name of her printer----in India. It was a long shot, but I sent off an email with the specifications. The cover of my book is complicated----varnishes, metallics, overlays. I know it was the reason for the high printing bids; a couple printers opted not to bid it anticipating the standards required to make it work.

Within a few hours of my initial request I received an email quote from the printer. The quote was one-third the cost of the domestic printers. I was sure they had misunderstood, so I sent them a copy of the book. They assured me that was an accurate quote—furthermore it included shipping and customs fees. My editor Dorie and I ruminated over whether this was a good idea or not—something too good to be true never works out. India is so far away—how would I ever sort out a problem?

During the midst of weighing the risks, I got a personal email from the sales person. It seems he had read my book and had found it "thoughtful and life-changing." It would be "an honor" for them to print it. He assured me he was familiar with Vaastu (the Indian form of Feng Shui) but was looking forward to implementing what I was proposing in "Wind and Water." That beat all...what printer bothers to read the books? And pay attention to the content?

Perhaps it was a clever sales tactic, but that email was the beginning of what has been a delightful and charming relationship. They have been conscientious; have air mailed proofs; have air mailed the first press runs; have assured me of some small tweaks they would be making to assure even better quality; have been patient while my bank tried to figure out how to wire money to India. The list goes on. We call each other "friend" now----"My dear friend Carole..." "Thank you, Jagdish, my friend, for your quick response....."

Yes, initially it was their price, but after these heart-felt emails, I have not regretted my decision to take the book to India. Of course, it didn’t hurt that their pre-run copies were impeccable, surpassing the last edition the publisher provided me. According to their latest production schedule the books will be arriving at the distributor here in Minneapolis on May 4th. I don’t feel badly about taking this job out of the country. For one thing, I have some new friends in India. And for another, I’m sure when someone picks up one of these new books, they’ll know there’s something extra special about it. Something they sadly would have missed if the books had been printed by anyone else. Thank you, Jagdish, my friend.