Fengshui. Sounds like some rare tropical fungus found
under the toenails. Apparently I have been battling fengshui most of my life. At least that’s what the Asians wearing
those exquisite silk jackets on various shows on different “science” channels
say. Heck, if “history” channels can run shows about gator hunters and pawn
shops, I guess an ancient Chinese belief can be considered science. My first
experience with it was seeing a huge mirror at the entrance of the largest
Daoist temple in Chiayi, the Jiuhuashan Dizang Temple. I was told that it was
placed there not for narcissistic parishioners, but to prevent bad spirits from
strolling into the temple. One can still see blank, shiny CD’s taped or glued
to the backs of cars to prevent any gremlins from throwing a spiritual wrench
into the vehicle, while scooters sometimes highlight their “NO KISS” mud flaps with
an old “Best of the 80’s” as well. Graves are placed near water, like rivers,
wells or even rice paddies, to be conducive to the spiritual flow. I was told
that prayer rooms in private residences with shrines to a god or ancestors
cannot face west, evidently the unluckiest direction of them all. It’s
understandable, considering how the “west” meant desert and warring steppes
tribes that, at one point, went on to rule most of Asia, including the Chinese,
in spite of the Great Wall.
The design of my
house has an important fengshui element:
there is no clear line of sight from the front door to the back. However, since
the large window next to the entrance allows a perfect view down the hall to not
only the back door beyond the kitchen, but also the bathroom window at the rear
of the house, curtains hang at the doorways to both rooms to prevent (or, when
considering the flimsiness of the partitions, simply hinder) any good energy
flow from going out the back. Unfortunately, these barriers occasionally come
crashing down on my head when they get hooked on class binders I may have or a
button on my cuff. I assume that this occurs when there is a build-up of
non-auspicious fengshui at the
curtains, thus acting as a release valve for the negative energy, though it
does bother me that it always seems to happen to me and not my wife.
A few years ago, all
of the clocks in the house were pointed to the south, thus allowing the hands
to proceed in a westerly direction, which was supposed to be good for the
position of our home. Apparently that rule about the west being unlucky is
conditional, as with most things with fengshui.
When I pointed out how the hands would be going towards the east at the top of
the hour, I was told that I didn’t understand the concept. I didn’t dare ask
about the digital timepieces
I have always wanted
to go to the house of the fengshui
“expert” my wife occasionally visits to see if he has followed his own advice
and captured the essence (and the riches) of fengshui. Somehow, I think I would be disappointed, but then I
would probably be told that such “gifted” people dispense such knowledge not
for personal gain, but for the benefit of others. I wonder how such an attitude
would transform Wall Street.
So, when I noticed
that my wife was putting the covers down on all the toilets in the school and
the house for
the last few weeks, I naturally assumed that it was another “recommendation”
(“order”?) from her local “advisor”. The need to prevent water, that conduit of
all things spiritual, from taking away our home’s fortune seemed obvious
enough. I asked her about it and, to my surprise, her actions were based on
science, albeit from the Internet. One of her friends had posted a video that
showed how wet and wild whirlpool created by flushing toilets spews lots of
unhealthy things into the atmosphere of one’s home. So, now, I not only have to
pick up both the cover and the seat when I need to urinate (Sorry, but, while I
still can, I refuse to sit to pee.), but now I have to put them back down when
I’m done. From now on, I’m going to hold it until I go downstairs and can use
the urinals in the school’s restrooms. And since I’ll be facing south, I can
rest assured that I’m not pissing away any good fortune.
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