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.

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