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.