I've skipped the news this morning. This week, I signed up to get The Washington Post. It seemed to be reporting more news and promoting less agenda than the New York Times of late. I subscribe to both now. . . so of course I'll quit reading the news. If you pay for the news, it should simply come to you. I should simply know these things now. That's how it is supposed to work.
Instead, I woke up with Feng Shui in mind. Don't ask me why. So when I sat down with my first cup of morning coffee, I Googled it. The first thing I realized is that I am bi. You see that yin/yang chart? I am sometimes one, sometimes the other. By and large, I have a yin core with a yang exterior.
Of course. . . .
This might help you better understand. You see? Yes, yes. . . this is how I try to organize my life. It will help your chi.
All this came, I know, from a discussion I was having last night when a friend stopped by. I had been feeling lazy all day. I did what I needed to do, though. I'd gone to the gym, had worked on some things around the house, and had gone to see my mother. But what I hadn't done is gone to a happy hour party. I just didn't feel like it. I wondered what was wrong with me. I spend a lot of time alone. Why not go out and revel a bit.
I called in an order for dinner from the good Italian place up the street. I stopped and got two bottles of wine. When I walked into the restaurant to pick up my order, though, I thought maybe I should have just eaten at the bar. It was early and the tiny bar was empty. Not only that, but the beautiful bartender who looks at me with defiant eyes as if she wants to kill me for "dating' her girlfriend was working. I will win her over yet. But not that night. I hurried home to eat alone on the deck with a bottle of Chianti. An arugula salad, Pollo del Marsala, and the late afternoon breezes. I should have been lonely, but Sky sent a message and I wasn't.
It was after that, inside with a scotch, that I had the discussion.
"I've been wondering," I said, "why I should want to go out. I have a reasonably well-appointed house full of books and art and wonderfully decorative things. I have scented oils and rich colors and a kitchen full of luxurious olives and cheeses and breads and crackers and whatever I want. I have good wines and a library full of liquor. I have books and music and commercial-free big screen t.v. I live and work in my pajamas. Christ, it is like a reduced Playboy Mansion here, sans girls. Most of the time, anyway. But it is kind of an ideal life in many ways. I live in the good part of town. I never need to drive more than two miles to get anything I want. Most things are mere blocks away. So. . . why would I want to go anywhere?"
She kind of giggled. "A reduced Playboy Mansion. No. . . you are right. It is enviable."
"I'm a fat pasha," I said. "I just need someone to peel my grapes and feed me figs. If I had that, I would never move. I'd just clap my hands and shout out--'More wine! More meat!'"
But I am disorganized, you know, and I live with Victorian clutter. I like it. Is it texture or is it clutter? That is what I was thinking of when I looked up "Feng Shui."
Again, maybe this will make it clearer to you.
Live you life by these simple principles if you wish to be fulfilled.
I'm feeling very yin today. The sky is gray and rain is forecast. I will need to go out for awhile. I need groceries, of course. I feel the need for little hippie shops, too, maybe some woven anklets or a magic rock. Definitely more scented oils or incense. I used to have a great little Buddha. Where did he go? Seriously. Things disappear. Do one of you have it? I haven't thought of that little Buddha for years. I'll need a new one, small and delicate. A trinket sized reminder of non-attachment, of my own species of existential zen. I need to get back to yoga meditation.
The little hippie shops are less than two miles away. There are a lot of them. I will get another take-out meal again tonight, this time from some fusion hipster joint. It is fun. I'm going to start a new Netflix or Amazon series tonight, hunkered down into the big leather couch in the half-light with another bottle of wine. I'm inventing a Victorian Feng Shui where the clutter focuses the chi in a creative rather than an empty way. I love the blank and empty spaces of Japanese culture, the small, empty rooms and the minimal zen gardens, but I love my wild, Berkeley-inspired garden, too. There is a natural, untamed energy to it and to all the Berkeley gardens of memory. California chi. Western qi.
That is my yin self, anyway. When I get my yang on, I'll be ready to travel, ready to collect new clutter.
For now, the only place I'd like to go outside my minimal mansion is to the studio. That would make my life complete, I think. You could come, too. I'll do things a bit differently this time around. We'll have fun, I tell you. The goddamned thing was half a mile from home. You can't imagine.
A little Saturday morning yin music to start the day. If you are feeling yang. . . you know what to do.
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