Feng Shui for the Soul [antikvár]

Introduction Asa child I moved house nine times. My roots would begin to take XX. hold in a new place, only to be abrupdy ripped up once again. None the less I grew like a weed, taking root wherever we lived. There didn't seem to be a common thread connecting the various places; each one was completely different. My first home was a small wooden house atop a hill in Astoria, Oregon - a rainy fishing village by the Pacific Ocean. The house overlooked the sea, rolling mists and fog. A later move took us to the dry arid heat of King City, California, where we lived in abandoned army barracks. Whenever we needed more space my dad would knock down a wall, opening up another unit. Later we moved to Chicago and lived in a run-down tenement apartment. The fluorescent lights fi-om the 'greasy spoon' coffee shop on the street below blinked endlessly into my bedroom window every night. Better times in my father's career took us to a beautifiil Tudor-style home in a middle-class neighbourhood near Chicago. After this we moved to a rural region of Ohio, where we lived in an old farmhouse surrounded by an overgrown apple orchard. Later, I lived for two years with my grandparents near Los Angeles. Their home was a suburban bungalow in a transitional neighbourhood that was slowly being infiltrated by gangs. By my high-school years, we lived on a gracious tree-lined street in a mid-sized town in Ohio. Our three-storey, historical house had marble window seats, hand-carved woodwork, antique stained-glass windows, and an intricately patterned slate roof Disruptive as it was for a child to be uprooted so many times, I now know that every move we made prepared me for practising and teaching feng shui. The wide spectrum of environments that I called home when I was growing up gave me an intimate understanding of the spaces we occupy and how they influence us.