Feng Shui and Other Mysteries

I am a pragmatist. Probably, a cynic too. I quit reading my horoscope at fourteen. Just when my my friends were discovering Star Scrolls from 7/11, I swore off all discussion of my zodiac sign. I enjoyed suggesting that Jeane Dixon merely rotated the messages in the daily newspaper, moving Pieces up to Aries and Aries down to Taurus.  

In Chinese astrology, Bacon and I are both roosters. Our children are a rabbit and a snake. I still think it’s garbage. We bought Coco a chop when we were in China, and I couldn’t bear to buy our baby a slithering python carved in onyx. We substituted another forest animal.

So, it’s news to me that I can rearrange my bedroom to find peace and harmony. Qi. That’s exactly what happened. We’ve lived in the same house for 15 years, and I’ve never felt comfortable in the master bedroom–until this week. We moved the birthday cake bed of ours to the wall facing the patio door. It’s changed my view.

What shouldn’t be a startling discovery is just that, a startling discovery. The sun flows in the window through the stained glass that before, hung over our heads. I can see it now. No longer hanging for others, it hangs for me. That alone was enough to make me vaccum the den. (Those who know me, know this is a major transformation. For the better part of last year, I didn’t own a vacuum. And that’s probably too much information.)

Here’s the thing. The important discoveries are obvious. So close, we’re blinded by their impact. With a hug, a gesture, a few words I can share my feelings. I don’t have to wait until the stars are in a line to do it.

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