God > Feng Shui

October 27, 2016

Part of me feels like an alien is holding me hostage, with his phasers (set on intense pain, not kill, kill would be better) aimed directly at my temple, forcing me to write these words out for you.

Because the young atheist me swore I’d never think, write, speak, or believe in the big guy/gal/genderless being upstairs. And I do mean swore, like you swear off taco bell after the dozenth explosive diarrhea.

Feng Shui, on the other hand, was ok for me to accept.
It’s a parlor trick and no one has to know.

I was desperate and open minded enough to look for shortcuts in life. If that meant tossing out clutter, rearranging my furniture, putting up magical items here and there, and hanging Chinese coins woven with red thread on my door handles, fine.

Feng shui does work.
Clutter clearing is one of the best spiritual practices any human can do. If I opened up a restaurant, I’d check to see if the building was in the flow zone. I’d paint it with bright uplifting colors inside, have great signage, enough plants inside for positive chi, maybe even a water fountain in the front room, making sure there was enough energy flow (not too fast, not too slow) inside and out.

But, let me be crystal clear, there is a hierarchy in these things.

I can argue with the cashier or get in touch with the CEO.

The All Knowing One may not read or reply my first letter. The dude’s busy, for obvious reasons, you know, creating multiple universes with his words, and making sure the Cubs win the world series and all.

But if I hassle him with enough emails, letters & phone calls, the dude’s gonna have to pay attention.

And when God pays attention, there’s not enough feng shui in the world that will stop you. That’s just the truth.

(Ok, put down that phaser you dirty pahtak Klingon. I’m pressing publish.)