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Feng Shui
Don’t take it lying down
by Robin Tovey

I was in need of a feng shui make-over. Actually, it was my house that was in need of the make-over but this feng shui business seemed to be a body/mind/spirit package deal. As a design philosophy, feng shui ("fung shway") is all about modifying and improving the environment or energy that surrounds you. This energy is conceived of as chi, the Chinese term for a universal life force, and the key to a harmonious life is to achieve just the right balance of this force. My cousin had given me Feng Shui Chic* for Christmas and I figured that, as an antidote to seasonal affective malaise, rearranging the furniture couldn't fail to put me into a new frame of mind. According to ancient Chinese principles of placement, my informed home decorating choices would elicit specific physical or emotional responses (to my environment) that would enhance my life. But it was about so much more than the furniture!

For example, the many windows that filled my house with sunlight on infrequent occasions were in fact a source of consternation. My book acknowledged that "Windows let in vital natural sunlight... but you might not want to sit in front of them. A general rule of feng shui is to protect your back and windows provide less protection than a solid wall." Protection from what? Bombardment by excessive or irregular chi. While I was not in the habit of sitting at the window with a mint julep and fan in hand, the call to "protect your back" made it sound like the errant chi protection program might be a useful resource. If you thought the alcohol content of a julep would protect you in the afternoon, nightfall is said to bring ominous conditions when "the chi flow reverses and a seat by the window will start to drain your chi." If putting your feet up by the window was not such a good idea, being laid out flat in bed seemed especially ill-advised.

When you don't want to take it lying down, a preventative measure is to place your bed with a careful strategy. The book stated that "since energy travels more quickly though a window than through a solid wall, windows behind your head facilitate the transfer of your energy to the outside world." Here was more emphasis on that solid wall as barrier. I wondered if wearing a hat might serve a similar protective purpose. I thought of Proust bundled up in bed, his head under the covers and hot-water bottles at his feet. Who knows if it was the chi or the chill that was his first concern, but as sickly as he was, he should've known that "if you tend to get colds often or fatigue easily, support your immune system with a wall behind your head." Already having a sufficiently strong constitution, I hoped that some headboard reinforcement might offer other rewards.

To make it a scientific experiment, I first rearranged my bedroom so the head of the bed was at the window. This particular layout was short-lived as I dreamt of "Buffy the Vampire Slayer"–the episode in which supernatural types stole the voices of everyone in Sunnydale, sucking them out through windows as the innocents slept in their beds. Was the feng shui fear that chi would surreptitiously slip out a window into the night or be drained by sinister forces? I preferred the former interpretation of wanton chi, but was sold on implementing some safeguards nonetheless. Luckily, I was already at an advantage with my solid wood bed frame; the lighter frames of brass beds are out of favor in the feng shui school of thought because there are holes in the headboard. Proust probably had some such ornate, and consequently vacuous, bed in the high fashion of the day--thus the cows were out of the barn as soon as head hit pillow.

Securing the bed on a wall was not a problem, as there were four to choose from, however the other goal was a bit more specific: place your bed in the corner diagonally opposite the door so that you can keep an eye on it at all times. The concern is that being unable to see the door leaves you vulnerable to the entry of evil energy. Who knew these forces were so forward as to make a civilized entrance through the door? These constraints, not to mention the issue of compass positions (don’t ask), left me no choice but to place the bed parallel to windows--would windows running alongside the length of the body pose a problem? I could not find any such opinion, but it was suggested that if you’re feeling overexposed the thing to do is place a bench or steamer trunk at the foot of the bed to provide a sense of protection.

This reminded me of the old movies in which wispy girls struggle to move an armoire up against the door to keep the baddies at bay... mostly unsuccessfully, I might add. Another solution was to cover the windows with blinds or heavy drapes, but I figured that if you need to detect evil at the door then it is best to have a clear view of the windows as well. Good grief--before this transformation was through, I would need to take a course in self-defense!

It has been said that the aim of feng shui is to maintain a nervous system that is as calm and centered as possible. Since I was fast arriving at anxious and neurotic, I decided that I would rather sacrifice some spiritual growth for sleep and take my chances with the bed just where it had been--in the exact wrong corner of the room and downwind of a refreshing draft. Just in case, I decided to rely upon my own talisman--the klamboe I'd rescued from a friend in college upon her return from Indonesia. If this transparent tent of netting was useful in repelling mosquitoes, it could certainly contain some chi with the urge to roam. And the klamboe was ever so exotic--even more exotic than feng shui. I figured it was time to try the next trend in Eastern-inspired home décor...

Feng Shui Chic: stylish designs for harmonious living, Sharon Stasney, Sterling Publishing Co., New York, 2000.