I think part of my attraction to feng shui initially came from my time as a kid on the move. By age fifteen I'd lived in more than that many houses; old, new, large, bijou, in the city, and out in the sticks. When I was small we'd just move states, but now I'm an adult it seems I commonly move continents. Sometimes carrying my house around with me... sometimes it's left behind in storage, and once or twice I've sold (or lost in transit) the lot, facilitating a brand new start.
There's nothing like breaking apart your house and all it's energy, sorting, piling, and discarding to decimate your sense of self. The things that meant so much- a pretty pot in a corner, the hanging garden ornaments- just end up looking like pieces of junk. I questioned myself, looking at the stack of "must takes"- was this really all neccessary? Husby commented it was just a pile of frippery, and silently I agreed that that's exactly what it looked like.
Around me now, smiling filipina men are carefully wrapping our scaled-down household in white paper. This morning these asian men are my good spirits. Piece by piece they are handling with care these "frippy" things I regard as precious, and placing them in strong, uniform boxes. We'll see it all again in 8000 miles.
There's a special energy about the way they are doing this. It feels like, this time nothing will be lost in transit, and it won't sit be sitting silently in storage for too long, wishing for us to come and get it. Maybe I'm picking up on the energy of my precious things who have been through this before, too, who now enjoy being packed professionally just as much as I do.
Bon voyage, feng shui by the sea household.
