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.

Update on Desk Experiment

A few weeks ago, I challenged myself to clear off my desk----totally. It was part of a New Year’s resolution because I was tired of looking at the same stacks every day. I outlined in a prior blog how I bought a box and at the end of the day put everything in there, leaving my desk totally clear. After a few hiccups, I have to say, I’m loving this.

I come into my office in the morning and I am ready to go. Everything I need for the day is in the box. I start pulling things out according to priority. When I’m done with one item, I take out the next. I haven’t lost one piece of paper so far—everything’s in the box. I must admit I’m waiting for this system to fail me, for something to happen where I’ll have to admit that this box idea just doesn’t work. It’s too simple.

Of course, there are things that have sifted to the bottom of the box that I may never get to and don’t really care about. But I’ll leave them in there for a while. I don’t see the harm in that. During my daily forage through said box, I see these small reminders of obscure possibilities so there’s no worry that I’ll ever forget about them. I just don’t need to repeatedly see them sitting on my desk, taking up valuable space.

So, if it were just the expansive feeling I get when I walk into my office, that would be worth this exercise. But there’s an unexpected benefit to putting things in the box that I can’t explain, which is: I have more time at the end of the day. I didn’t expect this, yet I should know that this is how Feng Shui works. Since I began using the box system, I have done projects and juggled more commitments which would never have happened during the pre-box era. There’s no logical connection here between putting my stuff in a box and seeing the hours expand, except for the energy of it all. As a Feng Shui consultant I shouldn’t be surprised.

Feng Shui for the Future

Over the years I’ve gotten requests for insights about implementing Feng Shui in countless and interesting ways, but this week I got one that beat all. The editor of a science fiction web-site asked if I’d contribute information for an article she was writing about the Feng Shui of a spaceship. I think she was tongue-in-cheek, at least I hope so as that’s the direction I took it. Of course, I haven’t heard back from her so perhaps I missed the point.

Just contemplating the possibilities was a fun exercise. Since the traditional form of Feng Shui is based on the constellations as they relate to earth, what happens when the spaceship leaves the earth’s atmosphere? It would seem to me we couldn’t really discuss what we know about the influence of directions because it wouldn’t apply. Is there a north and south on another planet? Without much gravity this might be hard to determine.

Let’s say we could determine the ming gua number of the captain of the spaceship, presuming he/she/it is humanoid and had an actual birth day. Would it do us much good to know this if directions as we know them are non-existent? I don’t think so. Would it help to know when the spaceship was built so we could employ a Flying Star chart? Again, the answer is no because we need directions to make that work. A Ba Zhai chart is out of the question because the spaceship is always moving around so facing and sitting orientations would be impossible to determine unless you considered the facing direction the way the spaceship is moving when flying through space and the sitting direction is the back. Of course, the argument could be made that you’d want the facing and sitting directions to be determined when the spaceship has landed somewhere. Ah, but once again, we need directions to put sense to this. If I were the resident Feng Shui consultant on a spaceship, I daresay my compass wouldn’t do me much good.


All I could offer her was some good old western Feng Shui tips: watch for clutter, make sure the captain is in full command (high-backed chair, power corner, headboard), the importance of color. I remember those old Star Trek television shows----Captain Kirk always had his back to the entrance of the deck. Those doors would slide open with lightning speed and, guess what----he had to swivel around in his chair to see who was coming in! It’s amazing he made it to anywhere. If those Klingons would have caught on to that Feng Shui snafu, Kirk would have been toast.

So, for all of you out there who are studying or thinking about studying Feng Shui, here’s your future. Get your engines ready. The countdown has begun.

To Barb

This morning I read in the obituaries that a friend had passed away. I knew she had cancer but when I last spoke with her a couple months ago, the tumors had shrunk and she was hopeful. Barb was my personal shopper. She worked at Macy’s and when I needed help I’d call Barb. She’s outfitted me for weddings, TV appearances and just general life. It was always an event spending time with her trying on clothes, listening to her opinions, having her run around the store looking for a different size or a different color. She was always glad to see me. I’m sure all her clients felt that way, but somehow she made me feel as though I was the most important client she ever had and would ever have again.

I initially met Barb in about 1996 when she called me for a Feng Shui appointment because she had been diagnosed with breast cancer. I went to her apartment where she lived with her little boy, the delight of her life. Despite her cancer diagnosis, she was upbeat, funny, and invincible. At the end of the appointment she gave me her card—at that time she was a shopper for Dayton’s.

Over the years I had regular contact with Barb. She moved to a townhouse which I visited a couple times as a Feng Shui consultant----once because she had just moved in and another time because her cancer was back. On the reverse side, I’d have need for something to wear so would spend time in the dressing room with her. She was honest about what worked on me and what didn’t—and never pressured me to buy a thing. She’d call to keep me up on what was on sale (Dayton’s was now Marshall Fields) and what was "perfect" for me; likewise, I’d let her know when I was teaching a class she might like. We weren’t best friends, but she was definitely a part of my life. We never socialized together, but we still had friends in common. I kept up with how proud she was of her son as he grew up to be a young (and handsome, I might add) young man. I listened to her opinion as Marshall Fields was bought out by Macy's. Barb was so full of life, it never occurred to me she would die from her cancer.

In fact, just a couple weeks ago I thought I’d contact Barb to let her know there was going to be a Fashion Feng Shui class here in Minneapolis in May which I thought she’d enjoy. Plus I hadn’t heard from her for a couple months and needed to catch up. I didn’t know she was busy dying.

Here’s to Barb—for whom the heavenly cannon resounds your approach and the angels rejoice with the thought of you in their midst. Thank you for being my friend. May you rest in Feng Shui bliss.