Healing home energy
Feng shui lessons from a design master
Iwas clearly in overmy head.
When I signed up for an online course in feng shui, an ancient Chinese practice of using design to enhance health and prosperity, I somehowmissed the part about its being a “master” class. My fellowstudents included threewomen whose homes already had been feng shui-ed by our instructor, JudithWendell, founder of Sacred Currents, aManhattan-based consulting firm.
I, meanwhile, was a complete novice. And Iwas still struggling with the basics— including howto place the “bagua,” a template that is used to divide a space into nine zones— whilemy peerswere ticking off “the producing order” of the five elements.
But Iwasn’t the only one in trouble; myNew York City apartmentwas too.
Ceiling fan over bed = bad.
My desk pushed against awall in the living roomso my backwas to the doorway = bad.
A diagonalwall inmy bedroom that meant a sectionwas missing from the “wealth” zone = very, very bad.
I had them all, aswell as “fighting doors” (my bedroomdoor knocked against my closet door when both were open). My kids’ bedrooms had the same affliction, which, it seems, could portend discord or even
“hidden adversaries.” Yikes.
Fortunately, Wendell, 68, a consultant for more than two decades, was empathetic, calm and pragmatic. Shewas fully aware that most of us have to make the best of the flawed spaces we live in, fighting doors included.
The coursewas away to drum up business during the quarantine after inperson consultations with clients had fallen off. She speculated that there might be interest in such a class, given that so many of us were spending all of our time at home during the lockdown, with ample opportunity to cast critical eyes at our surroundings.
Shewas right. Eleven of us signed up for theweekly class convened over Zoom. Allwerewomen, which Wendell later told me is consistent with the demographics of practitioners of feng shui in this country, although in ancient China the masterswere men.
Each class began with a meditation exercise, intended to sharpen our awareness of our surroundings. Fromthere, Wendell moved on to topics such as the five elements (water, wood, fire, earth, metal) and showed us photos and diagrams of landscapes, houses and rooms, pointing out arrangements that adhered to the tenets of feng shui and the “adjustments” that could be employed where spaces fell short. In between there were textbook readings and homework assignments, such as drawing up a floor plan of our bedroom— the most important roomin a home, according to feng shui— and identifying the zones of each corner.
Wendell didn’t come off as excessively woo-woo. It was easy to envision her commanding the respect of real estate executives with whomshe oftenworks on projects. Such clients make up about 30% of her practice, with the remaining a mix of homeowners and businesses seeking felicitous furniture arrangements.
Shewas always quick to suggest workarounds to compensate for problematic features, such as beamed ceilings, which many of us consider charming but, apparently, can exert “downward pressure” that could be “damaging to a relationship or impact health.” And if I couldn’t seemyself embracing some of the remedies recommended in the textbook— such as hanging bamboo flutes (on beams) or crystals (to fix a confusing or tight spot on a floor plan) or red paper firecrackers (to prevent burglary and accidents)— otherswere easier
to envision. Careful placement of a mirror turned out to be a solution in so many situations that one master reportedly called it “the aspirin” of feng shui.
Some people have found aspects of feng shui easy to ridicule. AndWendell, who has a degree fromthe longrunning BTBMaster Feng Shui Training Program, is well aware of this. At the start of each class she shared a cartoon poking fun at feng shui, which is pronounced “fung shway” and means “wind andwater.” She had quite a collection, most dating fromthe 1990s, when, apparently, therewas enough awareness of feng shui for it to become the butt of jokes.
It became broadly popular here in the 1980s, after relations between China and theUnited States opened up, though immigrants from countries where feng shui spread very likely brought the practice herewell before that. Today it is used for
everything fromdecorating nurseries to selecting burial plots.
Some of its tenets seemed like plain common sense. The concept of yin and yangwas a reminder that rooms need a balance — of rounded and straightedged objects, for instance — and never too much of a single color or pattern, althoughWendell said that some rooms might call for more yin than yang, and vice versa. A home or place ofwork should not be overly cluttered.
But while many of us declutter to foster an atmosphere of calm, feng shui says clearing out extraneous stuff will helpwelcome the chi, or cosmic energy. We spent a lot of class time talking about chi, which I came to think of as a character youwant to invite into your home.
My biggest takeaway from the coursewas the idea of the “command position,” which enables you to see the doorway of a room without being directly in line with it (if your bed is in line with the door it is called, scarily, the “coffin” position, named for the way the deceased are often carried out). The command position gives you a feeling of control and empowerment.
Three-quarters of the way through the course, I started to get the hang of some of the basics of feng shui, though I realized it would take years to acquire anything approaching a complete understanding. I was sorry when the last class arrived. Wendell invited each of us to make an appointment to call her to discuss anythingwe wanted.
My fellow classmates had devoted their phone calls to mini-consultations on their homes, and Wendell wanted to do the same for me. I emailed her some cellphone shots ofmy apartment and nervously waited for her reply.
We didn’t have time to delve personally soWendell could offer advice only “fromafar,” she wrote. She had criticisms and recommendations (including adding mirrors in the bedroom and kitchen sowe could see the reflection of people coming in those rooms and thus gain command of the doorways).
She did, however, have high praise for the old black-and-white family photos and etchings bymy artist grandfather that I had grouped on awall of our bedroom. In a stroke of dumb luck, I had hung them in the “benefactors” and “creativity” zones of the room, exactly where they belonged.