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14 August 2003
Filipino 'feng shui'?
 "CAN
we have the southeast side please? It's a good feng shui
direction."
I was proposing where the anthropology faculty might be located in a
proposed new faculty center on the University of the Philippines campus
in the Diliman area of Quezon City. Our campus architect sort of
frowned, "If everyone insists on one particular location then we're
going to have problems."
I laughed and explained that I was saying that tongue-in-cheek. I can
imagine many architects going berserk when they have clients who insist
on all kinds of feng shui arrangements. Traditionally, the correct
practice of feng shui, which affects everything from architectural
blueprints to the positioning of furniture and interior decor, is
believed to bring prosperity, harmony and general well-being to the
household. Incorrect feng shui, on the other hand, brings material ruin,
family conflicts, ill health and a host of other disasters.
All cultures have variations of geomancy although the Chinese and Indian
(vastu vidya) versions are probably the most elaborate. These systems
emerged in the context of agricultural societies with communities
looking for ways to build their living spaces in a way that would allow
them to tap natural resources while minimizing their vulnerabilities to
natural disasters. The Chinese version shows the fixation over winds (feng)
and water (shui), which shouldn't be surprising when you think of an
agricultural environment.
Certainly, crass commercialism has entered the practice of both feng
shui and its Indian counterpart, but I look at geomancy as an early
version of human ecology, an understanding of how our lives need to fit
into nature. In this 21st century there can be very simple, yet
scientific, explanations for some of feng shui's claims. Not
surprisingly, geomancy has a following in the West, and there are now
architects who take feng shui into account, such as the famous I. M. Pei,
who has designed skyscrapers throughout the world.
If geomancy rules are often couched in magical terms, it only reflects
the worldviews of agricultural societies. Thus, people would talk about
dangerous "arrows" in the home, referring to furniture or
other objects with sharp edges. Supposedly, these were dangerous because
they obstructed "qi" (pronounced ch'I) or energy flows. In
practical terms, I would avoid furniture with sharp edges for a very
simple reason: you want to reduce accidents, especially because children
and the elderly have a way of bumping into such edges.
Many feng shui practices are grounded in social and historical contexts.
For example, doors that swing out are supposed to be unlucky, causing a
household to go bankrupt because wealth rushes out every time the door
is opened. I suspect this belief emerged because China had a history
often torn by civil strife, with warring clans and feudal warlords. In
such circumstances, you can imagine how important entrances can be.
Enemies could barge into communities and homes if city gates and home
doors opened inwards.
Today, I would actually prefer doors that can be pushed out. Remember
the horrible conflagration at the Ozone disco in Quezon City, and how so
many people died because they were stuck inside, unable to pull open the
doors as people panicked and jammed the entrance?
Then there's the matter of the direction a house or office faces. In
traditional feng shui, north-facing homes and offices are said to be
unlucky, with connotations of a lack of productivity. To understand how
this belief came out, we have to remember China is located in a
temperate zone. The north brings in cold Siberian winds, so homes that
face north can become freezing in the winter.
North-facing homes are also avoided because they get less direct
sunlight. In contrast, the east is a favored direction because this is
where the sun rises. I wrote, a few weeks back about how Western
physicians and architects are all talking now about the beneficial
effects of natural sunlight in homes and offices. Feng shui taps into
those known effects. If your house faces east, you can imagine the
effects of sunlight streaming in at dawn and staying on a few hours in
the morning. Having lived in very cold countries, I've known what it's
like to wake up to sub-zero temperatures and seeking out the comfort of
early morning sunlight, often with my dogs and cats snuggling up as well
for their share of the sun.
You might argue, then why not face west, when you can also take in light
as the sun sets? Now this is where culture's symbolic functions come in.
Obviously, light from a rising sun is bound to be interpreted
differently from that of a setting sun. There's a difference feeling
your home has the rising sun's warmth, rather than that of sunset.
In the Philippine context, I actually think there are no real
liabilities about the direction a house faces. For example, the most
pleasant part of my parents' home is the north side because this is
where the garden flourishes, with flowers in full bloom all year round.
The reason the north is so good for the garden is that it gets sunlight
the whole day, from the left side (east) at dawn, all through the day as
the sun moves westwards, till it sets.
A Filipino feng shui would consider how much sun and wind the residents
want. Our tropical sun can be quite intensive so you don't necessarily
want sunlight streaming into the house all day, unless of course you're
able to build your homes high, with windows strategically positioned to
take in natural ventilation.
I wouldn't throw out the symbolic aspects either of feng shui. I think
workspaces would be good in the south or east but at the end of the day,
I wouldn't mind retreating to some corner or courtyard facing the west,
where people can unwind. My current office at the University of the
Philippines' anthropology department faces north, but my desk is beside
a window facing west, and I've actually found myself preferring to work
overtime, staying past 6 in the evening to catch the sun as it sets. It
is a different experience catching the way the setting sun sets the
campus glowing, taking on a magical incandescence. It is a wonderful
reminder to unwind, to rid ourselves of the day's vexations and to calm
the spirit in preparation for tomorrow.
Feng shui and geomancy become problematic when it takes over our lives,
capitalizing on our fears and anxieties. In reality, geomancy prescribes
no absolutes, instead offering ways for us to tap both nature and
culture so living spaces become, truly, lived spaces.
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