Feng Shui Hangs in the Balance

W. Bruce Cameron
Fri, 13 Mar 2015 21:00:00 -0700
Lifestyle

I've read that the ancient Chinese art of feng shui can bring a sense of peace, well-being and positive energy to a home — same as beer. Curious, I arranged to have dinner with a feng shui master so I could interview him and write off the meal on my taxes. (He ordered a beer!)

A serious, prepared-for-anything journalist, I took careful notes on a dinner napkin with the pen I borrowed from the waitress. Unfortunately, I left the napkin on the table, but I think I remember enough from talking to what's-his-name to provide a thorough report on the whole subject.
Updated: Sat Mar 14, 2015

I've read that the ancient Chinese art of feng shui can bring a sense of peace, well-being and positive energy to a home — same as beer. Curious, I arranged to have dinner with a feng shui master so I could interview him and write off the meal on my taxes. (He ordered a beer!)

A serious, prepared-for-anything journalist, I took careful notes on a dinner napkin with the pen I borrowed from the waitress. Unfortunately, I left the napkin on the table, but I think I remember enough from talking to what's-his-name to provide a thorough report on the whole subject.

First, feng shui literally means "fire and water," and was invented 6,000 years ago by the Chinese, who prior to that called it "ouch and wet." It is the scientific balance between the invisible green dragon and the invisible white tiger, and feng-shui masters get really irritated if you ask them how an invisible dragon can be green.

Also important to feng shui is yin and yang, representing female and male, which are "opposing forces in a continual state of flux and tension" (especially at my parents' house). To illustrate the importance of keeping yin and yang in balance, the feng shui master, whom I think was named Larry, related a story, with my providing helpful jokes.

"Long ago I provided assistance to a man whose house had fallen into disharmony," Larry said. "No, disharmony is not the name of a river in China." (Notice how my joke not only lightened the mood but provided an opportunity for helpful clarification? I'm glad you see it because Larry sure didn't.)

"The man lived in the house with his wife, their two sons, their sons' wives and their four grandchildren."

"Don't forget the invisible green dragon and the invisible white tiger," I reminded Larry. Then we had to pause for the good chuckle we shared (meaning, I had a good chuckle and "shared" it out loud with Larry. At this juncture, he ordered another beer).

"But the household was not happy," Larry continued.

Gee, you got all those Yins-in-law living with the mom in a house, and they weren't happy? I can't imagine why not.

"My name is not Larry!" he shouted at this point, or at some point. Anyway, it turns out that the house was too big on the right half, where the white tiger crouches in invisibility, and the green dragon could no longer control it.

As anyone who has ever been a child can tell you, you never want invisible monsters to get to be too powerful because then you have to call for your mom to do a monster-sweep of the room.

"No, that is not how feng shui came to be invented," Larry said. (Like he knows — was he around 6,000 years ago? Maybe some kid named Feng thought there was an invisible green dragon under his bed.)

Then I explained to Larry that if you bisect a house into equal haves, one half can't be larger than the other half, so his story made no sense. And maybe everyone was crabby because they were all living together like it was a Soviet apartment. And maybe things would be in balance if everyone understood basic geometry.

Nonetheless, Larry's advice to these people was to reduce the size of the right half of the house, and then everyone in the family was happy. Sure they were, Larry. Women love living in a shrinking house with their mother-in-law.

Oh, also there's a bird and a turtle — they're both invisible, too, but I don't remember what colors they are or why these people didn't just get a dog like a normal family.

At this point, a serious journalist like myself had two questions: 1) Can we get another round, here? And, 2) How can I find a job where people actually pay me to spew such nonsense?

Larry's reaction to these penetrating questions was, as we say in the business, to "flee the interview." This is normally taken as a sign that a person has something to hide, and I think I know what it is:

As a feng-shui master, Larry is seriously unbalanced.