The Meaning of Feng Shui

by Timothy David Rey

Move Some Crap Around. Change Your Life: The Art of Feng Shui Made Easy!

The way of wind and water, that is the meaning of feng shui. It is the ancient Chinese art that brings prosperity, happiness and abundance. Also known as the art of placement, feng shui says that if a living area, building or community has good chi then its inhabitance will be equally healthy. It really is that simple.
However, there are a few technicalities that will determine what you create. Defining and understanding your desires will be critical to your success.

A Little Smaller Than I’d Like

Leo brought us into his pad (a quaint apartment complex in Korea Town, Los Angeles) in mid-afternoon. The place was of a modified art deco construct, a popular 1950’s Hollywood bungalow style. Modest and affordable, the sign outside read: “Studios and One Bedrooms. Bachelor Apartments.” And although the spaces were small, entire families could be heard romping about into the early evening hours.

The decoration of the apartment proper was eclectic with a definite ethnic flare which leaned toward the Mexican aesthetic, yet Asian influences could be found here and there.

“So,” I thought, “we have made it here…inter-continental.”

The space was somehow sacred to a fault and it was not difficult to see that photos, plants, wind chimes and figurines had all been strategically placed to create a harmonious blend. At first this was just a feeling, but later discussion on the topic between the three of us made everything come clear.

“It’s…it’s a little smaller than I’d like,” Leo confessed as he turned on some music and went about watering plants, “but it’s my space. The first time I’ve lived alone. I’ve always had someone. I’ve always lived with someone. First it was my mother in Mexico, then to Chicago and Kevin then…then Michael, then Monica. Now, it’s just me.”

“And you love it right?” Rudy laughed with a smile.

“Oh my God, I do!” answered Leo, “I’ve discovered a lot about myself and also this…”

He recovered a book from a nearby shelf that read in big, bold letters: FENG SHUI.

“I totally believe in this. It really does work. My whole apartment is based on it. If one thing is disturbed in here, it all gets thrown off. It works. I moved everything around in here after I read this book and things started to change just like that. It’s about energy flow. You know, positive energy.”

“I believe it too,” Rudy added and I didn’t argue.

“These angels my mother makes,” Leo told us while holding up various plaster molds of angels or cherubs in distinct poses of bliss. “And do you know what these are?” he questioned pointing to three figures standing between Chinese soldiers which had been placed on top of the highest shelf in the house.

To me they appeared to be little gremlin-type creatures with pushed in ugly faces, gnarly teeth, bulging eyes and tufts of hair that stood atop each one’s head as if they had fidgeted with one of the apartment’s exposed light sockets (of which there were many).

“Yeah, I know what those are,” I began confidently, “they’re the little monsters from that children’s book; Where the Wild Things Are.”

Leo looked at me with disgust, “No,” not even giving me any sort of credit for my guess. “These figures watch over me. They protect me and,” he took his finger and began stroking one of the toll’s fury tops, “I am the only one who can touch them. Do you understand?” he asked as if we were all suddenly swept up in a role-play where Rudy and I were Lara Ingalls and her sister and Leo was the vicious Nellie Olson of television’s Little House on the Prairie.

“You don’t have to worry about me touchin’ those things,” Rudy replied, “They look funny. Like they’ll wake up in the middle of the night an’ come for ya. Take a bit outta yo’ass or something.”

“And this,” Leo continued, pointing to a small round shot glass that sat in front of them, “don’t touch this either. It’s for them. They drink it.”

I knew that LA bred a certain encouragement for the ‘way out’ but I never figured Leo for going that way. Yet, I could not deny him his beliefs and superstitions inside what he had quite proudly made his home. I made a chuckle and gave Leo a questionable look. He returned my glance with severity and I told him… “I understand.”

“Yes,” Leo said as he went to the kitchen area which doubled as an extra closet space as a large rack of clothes was set off to one side, so you had the feeling of making your way to the backroom of a not-so trendy second-hand store, “it’s a little smaller than I’d like, but it’s all mine.”

Rudy and I followed him, as he rummaged through one of the exposed racks. “Here,” he said handing me a shining piece of black cloth. “Try this on. If you like it you can have it.”
I took the garment from him (which ended up being a form-fitting tank-top) from him and slipped it over my head. Although it almost cut off some circulation, I had to admit that I liked it.

“Yes,” he said, “it fits you. Look at yourself in the mirror. Now,” he whispered into my ear as he stood behind me taking in both images, “Now you’re in LA.”

He turned around and grabbed three shot glasses (identical to the one set out for consumption by the trolls) and placed them on the sideboard of the sink. He pulled a tall, thin blue bottle from an upper cupboard shelf, opened it and poured out three generous shots of tequila.

“Have you ever had this kind? You cannot get it here, only in Mexico. It is very smooth. You’ll like it. It goes down just like gold.”

With that introduction to the beverage we all raised our glasses and downed the liquor in traditional form.

We clinked our glasses in that small kitchenette and Leo replied with a kind of refreshing smile.

It was decided that Rudy and I would stay at Leo’s and that Leo would sleep over at his new boyfriend’s.

On our first night there (after smoking …cigarettes) we managed to knock down some chimes that hung behind the front door. Although we tried fervently to re-hang them, it was to no avail. Rudy thought we should tell Leo and I agreed.

“ Rudy, you should definitely tell Leo.”

The objective of good Feng Shui is to create a harmonious flowing energy that enhances your personal energy field. Any element that is disruptive, drains or cuts that field is known as an ailment and can be cured. In short, just because it doesn’t work one way, don’t think you have to start all over again.

The Abbey

Leo had a car. It was a little red number. Used. Not too flashy, but it did the job and thus chauffeured us around to where we were going or going to go.

The early evening on the day of our arrival found us sipping cocktails in one of the hot gay spots in West Hollywood knows as The Abbey. Do not let the name fool you, there was absolutely nothing religious about it, save of course a stone statue of Francis of Assisi cradling a squirrel with a bird perched on his right shoulder.

There may have been indoor seating, but I did not see it. Because of the temperate climate, everyone was seated out of doors at round metal four-tops complete with white umbrellas among shading trees. The crowd that day was small but eclectic. There was definite style…very LA. People dressed and acted as if they were on the verge of something, and characters came and went as if perfecting roles in a geographically misplaced English bedroom farce.

The three of us found a nice outdoor table under a somewhat titled umbrella and ordered drinks.

“When I first got here,” Leo explained, “I went crazy. I was always partying. I did all these drugs, because they are everywhere. I meet this man out one night. He was gorgeous. He looks like Richard Gere. He had this great house and car. We went home together and the sex was amazing. I started seeing him on and off, but he was huge into crystal. Him and all his friends, all the time. It was too crazy. Now I just party on special occasions. I’ve been looking into the import/export business, but nothing’s happened. I want to leave my job at Kenneth Cole, here in LA. I can’t do anything with that. Or maybe go back to making my shirts.”

Leo had this knack for sewing great shirts. Stuff you would expect to pay top dollar for at Saks or Neiman’s. Silky, fitted, or more modest for everyday. In LA, however, getting started never got started. And the self-made shirts quickly found their way further and further into the back of the already cramped apartment closet.

I thought about the way things had been when I first met Leo in Chicago nearly five years ago, making ends meet by serving society’s elite from silver trays and shimmering glasses. At the time, Leo had a boyfriend named Kevin who reportedly was amazing in the sack, well endowed but who also possessed a horrible tempter that (at times) would unleash itself on Leo.

Leo didn’t talk much then. Almost newly arrived in the states from Mexico, his eyes set on that sort of American dream that escapes most of us who live here. They yearned for signs from the material world; glittering cars, high-arise apartments, dry-cleaned wardrobes and white men with power and money who could give him these things at a time and place where he could not attain them on his own. His self-respect kept him working. He did not want to be kept, but he did want to keep up…with the Jones and the Smiths (not so much with the Rivieras and the Martinezs).

After Kevin fell away, Michael came. He was a banker whose parents did not come from money, yet his hard work was beginning to pay off. Leo moved into Michael’s Gold Coast apartment on the 20th floor and enjoyed all the luxuries thereof. Mike allowed him to drive the black BMW when he was out of town, paid for plane tickets to Provincetown during weekend getaways, and even set him up with an entry level job at the bank (which Leo soon left in exchange for a brief return to the catering world). I’m not exactly sure how, but after two years their union began to dissolve. Perhaps the Beemer lost its allure or maybe it wasn’t so important that the clothes all be dry- cleaned. The view from the 20th, it might be said, was not as brilliant as it had been on first sight and the dinner parties with Michael’s A-List friends (whom Leo eventually grew to despise) may have become simply like torture.

If the phrase “all for the best” could be used in Leo’s life, I think you may want to insert it here. He underwent a change that seemed to head him in the right direction. Leo moved in with his lesbian wife, Monica who he had married years ago in order to attain citizenship in the states. It was a complete farce. He was as gay as the day was long and she was so much of a bull dyke that she was often mistaken for being a short, squat Mexican boy. Complete with as bowl haircut and clunky work boots, it was not out of her nature to grab her crotch at any given moment and proclaim.

“Look at my pinga. It’s huge! I have a dick and it’s bigger than any of you fag’s.”

But each year in the fall, Leo would instruct her to grow her hair out and wear nail polish. The dirty denim and flannel shirt would be exchanged for something a little more feminine and both would head downtown to the I.N.S., holding hands, fill out more paperwork and assure the government that, indeed, they were the happily unioned couple whose names appeared on the marriage license shoved away in a drawer. Almost on his own, Leo decided to become an assistant manager at Kenneth Cole’s new Michigan Avenue store and then quickly began making plans…to get out of the Midwest.

But what makes good chi? Some say, “I just feel it. The couch should go over there!” Others are much more studied, and thus can tell you all the proper selections to make… when decision time comes.

Carlos

Back at the Abbey in LA, we were soon joined. He appeared a bit disheveled at first, not in the sort of way that might suggest homelessness, but it was not hard to tell that he was a boy who had turned into a man who was (and had been) somewhat on the run. His hair was bleach-blond and his face was covered with a bit darker shade of stubble. He wore a faded black t-shirt which had the inscription Emporio Armani on the left breast, a light-blue mesh Boy Scout-style belt and dark denim jeans. Nothing was new. It might be strange to say, but it was almost as if he had materialized right there at the side of the table. I did not see him coming and immediately he began greeting Leo in Spanish and comfortably pulling up a chair.

“This is Carlos,” Leo told Rudy and me.

“Hello. Hola,” he said and carried on more conversation with Leo in their native tongue.

“We were trying to decide what party to go to tomorrow night,” Leo informed him. “I don’t know. Maybe The Factory, but I don’t like Victor Calderone…all that drumming. It gets to be too much. But I was looking in his magazine and it sounds like the party called Spin will be good.”

“Yes, honey,” exploded Carlos, “that is where you need to go. That is going to be the party. I’ll be there too. You have to go.”

We all agreed that Spin sounded good and Carlos excused himself to get a glass of water.

Leo shot him a smile, then suddenly moved in toward the two of us and began in a whisper.

“I met him one night when I was out. We came back to my place and we fooled around. After that night he told me that he had been kicked out of his lover’s house and needed a place to stay. I feel bad so I told him he can stay with me. I couldn’t let him stay on the street. But after two weeks, things started to disappear from my apartment. He started stealing money from me and I told him he had to go.”

“And you’re still friends with him?” I asked taking another sip of my Cosmopolitan.

“Yes,” Leo said and left it at that.

“Where does he live?” I was becoming a bit more interested.

“He goes from man to man. You know, house to house. He doesn’t have a place. If he can’t find anyone, he sleeps on the beach,” finished Leo.

“Jeeze,” I managed and thought about how bad things can get.

Rudy excused himself to go to the bathroom and Carlos returned with his glass of ice water.

“Da me un cigario,” Carlos told me, then reached for the box of Newports which Rudy had left behind.

“Oh, they’re not mine so…”I began, but before I could finish he had grabbed the box, pulled out a cigarette and lit one up as casually as if he had never asked at all.

“Ugh, it doesn’t matter,” and reaching out to pat the top of my hand with mocking reassuredness, smiled as he exhaled the first puff, “we’re sisters…aren’t we?”

Somehow I feigned a laugh, although I wasn’t so sure about the sister factor between us. I didn’t let it bother me much, but could plainly see how he had gone about perfecting his point of attack for all those men who might take them into their arms and eventually into their lives for however short a time.

Rudy returned, passing a table of young hustlers (17 at most) escorted by a set of much older men. Shortly thereafter, Carlos made his exit… as quickly as he had arrived.

Skewers

Later that evening we met up with Leo’s boyfriend of the moment. I say ‘of the moment’ because to hear Leo tell it, that’s all it appeared to be. His name was Jim and he lived in a lovely little Spanish-style bungalow on La Jolla Avenue. A sunny street lined with row after row of other terra cotta, red-roofed Spanish-style bungalows. (Yes, it appeared that, at times, LA lacked the basic originality that makes strip malls so…appealing). Jim worked with computers and would fall into the ‘average-looking white boy’ category if there ever were one. He was neither stunning nor ugly, but genuinely nice. After meeting Leo, he claimed to have lost the little bit of weight he used to carry around his belly and tried desperately to underplay the ‘nerd factor’ which I think he was just born into. Jim was recently separated from his lover of eight years and had begun to live again. He was into Latin men or men with that ‘mixed look’, as he described it, and he was really into Leo. They met one night at a bar when Jim was admittedly drunk. If my memory serves me right, he said that he had approached Leo and made advances, though it would only be on a second meeting that things would begin to progress. They had been seeing each other for a few months now and Leo told Rudy and me that he had made it clear to Jim that things “just might not last.”

Leo was a man who needed things, and although Jim’s house made Leo’s studio apartment look like a room in an hourly-rate motel, he didn’t have all the niceties of (oh let’s say) a Michael. (Who, by the way, had also relocated to LA).

That night found us at Skewers, another popular local hangout which specialized in (you guessed it) meals served on skewers. The portions were healthy and the food hot. The front of the building opened onto a four-lane highway which was under construction so that you got the feel of dining al fresco…in a parking lot. And since we were seated toward the back of the place, I had more of the feeling of eating out in someone’s open garage than anywhere remotely elegant.

No matter, Rudy and I enjoyed more cocktails and everyone enjoyed good laughs. Really though, it was clear that Jim loved Leo, as unrequited as that love might be. Rudy and I, on the other hand, looked on Jim as an almost perfect boyfriend and both agreed that if such a man should cross either one of our paths, his chances of getting away would be few and far between. I don’t know how hard Jim tried to please Leo or if Leo was being pleased. They both were, if nothing else, keeping each other busy.

“I’ve lived in LA since I was 14 years old and I love it here,” Jim told us, “I play on this softball league, but I’m really a homebody.”

“Well you can’t beat the weather,” I said smiling, “88 degrees and sunny all the time.”

Leo affirmed this with a mouthful of mashed potato, “It’s all great.”

But then a sharpness stuck in me, through my stomach…a feeling, and somehow I didn’t believe him.

Spin

Saturday night had been Saturday night. I don’t know if any more can really be said about it.

The lights spun at Spin, Carlos appeared as promised and men whirled around the dance floor, shirts off, flailing glow sticks and twirling flags every which way.

Now, various versions of Feng Shui have also been practiced in the West. For example, members of the Navajo Nation, upon entering their homes, always began by walking in a clockwise direction. This was known as creating the ‘vortex,’ or creating the ‘spin.’ So, when entering a room or space for the first time, remember always to move to the LEFT (clockwise) upon your arrival to create the healthiest of energy flows.

The security had been tight at both events. Drugs, it seems, had made a fervent comeback and Leo’s Filipino friend, Ed, who had lived in Chicago for some time, and had also relocated to LA, affirmed the usage of coke and crystal was at an all time high.

“Ecstasy changed my life,” Ed told me as we stood on the edge of the dance floor.

“What?!” I asked, trying to be heard over the thundering music.

“ECSTACY. IT CHANGED MY LIFE!”

“Oh. Yeah. I know what you’re saying.”

“I’m not afraid to say it.”

“What?!”

“I’M NOT AFRAID TO…”

“Oh, right. I know what you’re saying.”

Ed held a position at a bank which lent other banks money. His income was good and he seemed to have relaxed into the LA pop culture as had Leo. Ed drove a huge, black SUV and it was funny watching his 5’6’’ frame approach the monstrous thing, climb up into the driver’s seat and speed away. He had grown his once short hair out to his shoulders, and during our time with him he wore a generous strand of Buddha beads around his neck, complete with the little red tassel. Leo also wore these beads and I wondered if they knew the significance of them, or even cared.

“I like to dance next to hot white guys,” Ed told me as we stepped onto the packed floor during the after-party at 3am. Yet, as we gyrated to the pulsing beats, I noticed that he would never approach these men he longed for, nor would he look at them or even say hello. He wasn’t with us long enough during our visit for me to assess any sort of success rate, I don’t even know if success was important for him. Just to be noticed may have been enough. So I accompanied him as he made his ‘tour of white men’ on that dance floor. And wouldn’t you know it, he took me around the entire thing. Weaving in and out we made an almost perfect circle around the room…in a counter-clockwise direction…made an almost perfect circle …to the RIGHT.

When creating the energy of your desires, it is important to know what it is you want down to the tiniest detail, and for what purpose? Ask yourself:
*How will this affect my life?
*How will this affect my family?
*My neighbor?
*A stranger?
*The universe?
Think very carefully when answering these questions. Clear your mind of everything, including all the ‘should’ and ‘ought to’ and ‘have to’ of other people. You will receive what you ask for. The question is, do you want what it brings?

A Visit

On the morning of our departure, I awoke to the LA weather forecast over my Walkman headphones: “88 and sunny…again.”

I was about to fall back off to sleep when Rudy shouted out an alarm!

“Look!” He was standing next to the bookshelf where the trolls were placed behind that shot glass filled with… “It’s empty. They drank it, just like Leo said.”

“No they didn’t,” I managed to mutter half way into my pillow, “It just evaporated over the days.”

“No it didn’t,” Rudy argued knowingly, “that glass was full when we went to bed last night and now…it’s empty.”

“That’s just what all this partying does to you,” I said and burrowed back under my covers. Neither of us said anything more about it…but I suddenly felt worse about knocking down those chimes.

The way of wind and water, that is the meaning of feng shui. It’s an ancient Chinese art that brings happiness and abundance. Also known as the art of placement, feng shui says…it says…it…um…uh.

One Last Time… The Abbey

Before we left that day, we couldn’t resist one last stop by our dear Abbey. Leo told us he would meet us there from work.

Now, although we had enjoyed near tropical weather for our entire trip, on this early evening, dark clouds hung in the sky and thunder cracked off in the distance.

“Are you sure we should go over there?” I asked Rudy, but we both decided that the cool temperature was nothing to stop us.

When we arrived, the place was hopping like I had never seen it before. There were drag queens and ravers, businessmen just off of work, and vacationers like us. Even though the wind was brisk, no one seemed to mind. The dance music blared and the bartenders mixed the drinks like never before.

Once Rudy and I had our Tequila Sunrises and Cosmos in hand, we began trying to make our way through the dense and noisy crowd.

As far as I could see, there was no sign of Leo or any familiar faces when…I felt a tug on my shoulder.

“Hello. Hola.” It was Carlos with his bleach blond hair and his worn jeans and his. NO. It was Carlos all right, but with beautiful lacquered brown hair and a fitted Armani suit, with Kenneth Cole shoes.

“Man,” I thought to myself, “he must have made out good this time with some Sugar Daddy or another.”

“¿Quieres un cigario? Pardon me, would you like a cigarette?” he asked Rudy, and pulled out a silver carrying case from his breast pocket.

Rudy pulled one out and Carlos was right there with a lighter.

“I know,” Carlos said to me with a bit of a smirk,” I know what you’re thinking. But it’s not true. I think, how do you call it? I had a change of heart. I moved back in with my parents and they took me. They took me with open arms. And I got a job working in a friend’s business. Isn’t that great?!”

“Oh great,” I managed blandly. I mean how could this all possibly happen in the course of one day?

“I’ve gotta go, I promised mi Madre I’d meet her for evening Mass and I think I’m a little late.”

We said good-bye to Carlos and moved on through the crowd.

Finally we came upon Ed, who was entertaining a group of white muscle boys who seemed to be finding whatever he was saying quite entertaining. He lay on their laps, retelling funny stories from our night at Spin and twirling Buddha beads between his fingers. Rudy and I both waved, but I don’t think he saw us.

Near the back of the bar we saw him. It was Leo looking more radiant than ever. He wore a shiny black shirt and tight slacks. He was seated behind a table where a line of people were placing orders for: Goveas. Designer Dress Wear by Leo. Rudy and I pushed our ways to the front of the line.

“What’s going on here?”

“Oh,” said Leo, “isn’t it great! Everything worked out! My Import/Export business is booming and, with Carlos handling all the details, I have enough time to make my shirts again, and sell them!”

“Carlos…handling details? That just doesn’t make sense?”

“No,” said Leo, “it doesn’t does it? But I decided to give him one more chance and he…he’s been great. C’mon guys,” he said motioning for us to walk with him toward the bar.

As we passed that eclectic crowd one more time, I could have sworn I saw Monica in some candlelit corner grabbing her crotch, showing off her ‘package’ to a gaggle of lipstick lesbians. I could have sworn I heard her telling and stretching the story of how as she and Leo met and got married, as she twirled a gold wedding band around the wrong finger.

There was Leo’s ex-boyfriend on the makeshift dance floor…alone.

And over at the last table on the patio, a group of clean-cut young boys…who could not have been over 17, studied school books, laughing with no escorts or drugs.

“Here,” said Leo to the bartender, “we’ll have three shots of tequila, the one in the blue bottle.” He turned to us smiling and asked, “Have you ever had this kind? You cannot get it here. Only in Mexico. You’ll like it.”

The bartender poured three generous shots and we all toasted one last time.

“Don’t worry,” Leo told me, “It goes down just like gold.”
...and it did.