Feng shui is the ancient Chinese belief that wellness of mind, body, and spirit can be achieved through the proper arrangement of space, typically regarding the position of crops and furniture. With the loss of the agricultural society, references to feng shui especially here in the States concern the latter, namely interior decorating and collecting large numbers of potted plants. After a little research on Wikipedia, I discovered that feng shui actually described a pseudoscience founded on the tenets of astrology, mysticism, and ambiguous Chinese calligraphy. After reading through the mystical explanations and staring long at the Chinese characters – half-expecting a sailboat to appear for all its worth – my innate analytical skills produced a very simple summary: one’s living environment has an effect on the individual living in it. The ancient Chinese apparently beat out Darwin for the discovery of evolution.
Now I do not know if a room can affect one’s mind and personality — though classrooms have been known to increase my level of lethargy; however, I do believe that a room or a space reflects the personality and state of mind of its occupants. A cluttered room, for example, mirrors a cluttered mind. Take my room for example. Christmas has not been kind to the mystical energies inherent within my domicile. Normally my room is awash with books and games of all kinds, but as storage space disappears my nightstand accumulates the excess. At the current moment, two large stacks of novels, manga, and children’s literature teeter above my lamp and alarm clock like a bibliophile’s version of Jenga. My clock face blinks stupidly continuing its daily routine like a Himalayan village, unaware of the mass avalanche that will one day smother it with a crash of spines and a flutter of paper. Clearly before this happens, I need to perform some serious holiday cleaning, if not for the sake of my holistic well-being, for the safety and well-being of my books. A cluttered room will have little bearing on my health; bent corners and smudged pages, however . . . well just be ready with the smelling salts.