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MOVE THE BED AND
CHANGE YOUR LIFE |
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As millenniums go, this one has
not been good to me. Ever since the calendar turned to the year 2000, I’ve
been on an extended losing streak.
It started with the death of my cherished father, and
went steadily downhill from there. My business is down, my body is falling
apart (three unsuccesful knee operations ) and there are no signs of
anything improving soon.
But it all came to a head the other day, on the Par
Three 16th. I’d hit a gorgeous shot which was majestically
zeroing in on the pin when, in mid-air, it inextricably veered off to the
right, hit the cart path, and bounded out of bounds.
My certain birdie had turned into a triple-bogey. And I
had enough.
"That’s it," I cried. "I’m moving
the bed!"
My golfing partners didn’t understand. "What are
you talking about? What does moving your bed have to do with your slicing
your ball out of bounds."
"That wasn’t a slice," I responded, as
calmly as possible. "That was my yin not being balanced with my
yang."
If I was Jack Nicklaus, they might have given me more
attention. But I’m not, so I let them believe it was a slice, although I
knew it was nothing of the sort. It was clearly the continuation of my bad
Feng Shui.
My wife had brought it to my attention a couple of
weeks ago. A friend of hers who was a Feng Shui expert had walked through
our house and had been appalled at the position of our bed.
"Maybe we should move it," my wife had said
at the time. "There might be something to it."
I snorted. I first heard of Feng Shui about four years
ago, which was about 5996 years after it was developed. It’s all about
the study of the environment, places, people, time, and how the energies
of each interact. Proponents believe Feng Shui can help promote
prosperity, good health and relationships. But my life had been going
along swimmingly without it, until the new millenium, and I doubted moving
the bed was going to make much difference.
Three days later, my wife mentioned that she had talked
to her friend again. "Guess what’s in the health corner of our
lot?" she asked as she watched me hobble across the kitchen.
She didn’t wait for me to guess. "That’s
right. Our garbage cans."
I groaned. I wasn’t buying it, yet, but I did make a
mental note to check if there were any 6000 year old people around.
Thinking about it, I concluded Feng Shui wasn’t foolproof.
But over the next couple of weeks, my tune began to
change. A little bad luck here, a little more bad luck there, and I slowly
began to think that something must be out of whack. My yin, which is the
way of the earth, was clearly not in sync with my yang, which is the way
of Heaven.
And all signs pointed to the bed. I was spending up to
eight hours a day, 1/3 of my life, lying around in a negative atmosphere.
It was no wonder that golf ball had strayed to the right.
"We’re moving the bed," I cried when I got
home that evening. "It all makes sense. The flow is all wrong. Let’s
move it right now."
We waited until morning. I had a restless, fitful last
night’s sleep in the Bed of the Wrong Location, but awoke with a renewed
optimism. After a couple of hours of rearranging furniture and re-hanging
mirrors and pictures, I laid down on the re-positioned bed and immediately
felt the charge.
"I feel it," I exulted. "I feel the
positive energy. My knee feels better already. And better yet, my yin is
in tune with my yang. Come here and see for yourself."
She wasn’t buying it. Apparently, she thought it
would take more than thirty seconds for Feng Shui to turn my life around.
And she calls herself a believer? |
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