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.