If I think about how feng shui has changed my life, it comes down to the difference between surviving and thriving. You know it when you see it, but when looking at things in their multitude, it seems hard to perceive a distinction. I’m referring mainly to people, but a houseplant is a relevant analogy. A plant that is surviving still looks like a plant and, given that it is not actively dying, contributes pleasantly to the space. However, a plant that is thriving is bright, lush, clearly full of vitality; one might even overlook it, especially one with little experience of tending to plants, if it were among many other plants or if it were stood alone, without comparison. It becomes obvious when the two are placed side by side. I’m not campaigning for comparison, it comes all too naturally anyway, but what I am trying to make clear is this: You know the difference between when you are in survival mode, and when living barely takes a second thought. Barely any effort to be. Ultimately, I’m not sure how much control we actually have over anything, but at least with feng shui there is a leeway into the natural cycles of everything, a point of accessibility to joining in with the flow of the environment. If it is all perceived to be totally out of control, any one of our actions redundant, why would we exercise our will upon anything? There must be a reason to take care of our environment. A reason to take care of ourselves. And for me, that is because when I am in a position where I feel I am thriving, what that really means is that I am at ease to enjoy life as it is presented. Feng shui is the base from which we stand, a foundation to flourish. The flourishing itself is up to us, our genuine will, but at least the soil can be rich, watered, and connected.

In today’s society, it is obvious that much of the ancient wisdom that underpins feng shui and its related disciplines has indeed been preserved, not that we would know what has been lost, since it has been lost. Perhaps the retention of such wisdom has proved itself to be insufficient, because it does not thrive in the general public consciousness, but survives, mostly dismissed, on the fringes of common awareness, considered as something optional, eccentric, or irrelevant. I myself am not innocent of broaching the subject with caution, in anticipation of some pushback wherein I am branded in another’s mind as a lunatic, who observes only the inconceivable, with no rooting in common sense. Yet, to me, it is bordering on absurd, that the knowledge capable of improving the quality of human life in measurable, practical ways remains largely on the periphery of modern living. If such principles were considered in the planning of our homes, our cities, our infrastructure, society would be better for it. If people were invited within the current institutions to really think about the nature of reality from a young age, without any religious dogma, or pre-conceptual bias, about energy, flux and flow, about the relationship between the inner and outer world, there might be less frustration at the circumstances we find ourselves in, and more understanding of our own role in shaping them.