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.