When I Use the Term Feng Shui, It Means...

...an arrangement of things in MacRathWorld that leaves me with a greater sense of harmony, oneness and peace. Now, the Chinese and even our experts might scorn my definition. But if last night's experience doesn't count as real feng shui, then the word ought to be discontinued. Hear this:

At a glance, when I came home to my new Seattle studio, I saw that I'd made a mistake. I've made my share of slip-ups, but none of them ever struck me in this disturbing way. I had the air mattress in the wrong place and facing the wrong way. To put this in perspective: I only had two pieces of furniture, so all mistakes were magnified.

You reach the living area after a long L-shaped hall, just past the bathroom on the left, then the kitchenette. The living area measures about 16' x 14 '. The tan carpeting is clean and new. On the far wall are two great casement windows with curved tops. On the right side of the room, till my futon's frame is assembled, sits the purple steamer trunk...also doubling as a seat. I'd placed the air mattress against the opposite wall, with the head part just under the window.

Now, I'd done nightly tossing and turning with the bed in this position...but had blamed it on the air mattress. Last night, though, I wondered: wouldn't it be better to swing the mattress around to the right so that it ran along the wall beneath those lovely windows?

Two big things happened instantly:
1) I saw a strange correctness about the change in position. And the room no longer seemed empty--it had a sense of spartan fullness with just a trunk and air mattress.
2) The very second I lay down, I knew the air mattress had not disturbed my sleep. If I lay down on my back--with my head at the left wall--I had a glorious view of both curved top windows above me and two of the large windows on the wall across. If I turned to my right side, my preferred position, the window-side wall 'had my back' and I had a clear view of the room, its wide open space. Furthermore, within easy reach on the window sill above, I could set my cell phone, glasses and a bottle of fresh water.

Next up: a small utility table and chair for use as an interim desk. Placement: on the left wall, not directly across from the trunk. Its surface must always remain clean and clear except for my Stoker Award...a holder for writing utensils...and my work for the next day.

Feng shui. MacRath style. I plan to use this strong physical sense of harmony, clearness and peace as a touchstone for evaluating everything I do now. Does a new book/job/relationship provide that same sense of correctness? Does its new wall 'have my back'? Do I feel natural and free...or somehow forced and constricted.

I feel good to go here now, moving on all eights. Feng shui!

On Doing It Over and Over Again

(Not my own new place...not yet.)

One of the first things you learn moving into a studio apartment is the importance of habit. Correction: the imperative. For unless you get into the habit keeping the space clean and neat as you go, it'll turn into a wilderness of confused and angry wonderings: where the devil are my keys? where's my bus pass? who the hell took my flash drives and Altoids? Things tend to pile up quickly...then shift and slide to chaos. And the end result can be a weak sense of helpless despair.

I know: I faced exactly that with my one bedroom apartment in Charlotte. And it took me nearly half a year to sort, prune, organize...and take out a whole lot of trash. In this new smaller space, I knew, I'd be facing worse if I didn't start constructing some far better habits. Today.

As a man who's kicked booze and tobacco--and failed a few times with tobacco--I knew the importance of mindset and realistic thinking. Aristotle put it this way, 'We are what we repeatedly do. Excellence...is not an act but a habit." There's no succeeding at any life commitment in 3 days, 3 weeks or 3 months. And the effort must be not a battle but a daily chance to grow in strength and sense of purpose.

It helps to have clear, powerful vision. I saw an immaculate, spartanly furnished studio. And I saw just what I needed, placed where it belonged with a Zen-like respect for space.

Of immediate importance: staying organized and neat on a strict daily basis. Since I'm furnishing slowly, from scratch, I can't have everything at once: dresser, filing cabinets, desk...These will come. For now, I use cheap plastic modules from Target. One broad slate window sill supports my Stoker Award and a cover blowup of my third book, Mastery. On another I lay out the personal things I'll need for the next day: keys, wallet, etc.The kitchen counter top, just for now, holds one newspaper I haven't finished reading and a couple of pieces of mail, all very neatly arranged.

Nothing, nothing on the floor except what's meant to be there.

Garbage: taken out each day. Every scrap and stitch of it.

Used laundry: in the closet's special bag immediately after use.

Bathroom: spot-cleaned daily, toiletries neatly arranged.

I know, I know. It all sounds so banal. But the spiritual discipline involved is the very stuff of life--what Napoleon Hill once called Cosmic Habitforce.

Zen and the Art of Living in a Studio.