feng shui

My bedroom in my apartment here in Berkeley is nearly empty. The morning right after my graduation, my parents came to drive down many of my things back to LA, and since then I've been packing everything up. It's this huge mental upheaval for me--I've become to so used to the things I've stored up here in Berkeley, so much so that I keep having minor anxiety attacks when I'm gathering all my belongings.

I think I see the understand the value of feng shui now--not for its spiritual benefits, but its mental and psychological. There is a way that furniture dictates our lives on a very latent plane. Furniture orders our surroundings and structures the way we come to understand of our space and how we navigate it. Furniture can afford some sense of stability but it can become so...set. Unmoving.

So now here I am, moving and shifting things around, particularly certain pieces of mental furniture that are leaving scuff marks on the brain as I try to lift them. It's somewhat painful.

A month ago or so, I wrote about eveningtime in Berkeley, feeling full and rich of life and even just the mere yearning for it. I'm glad I captured the moment--surrounded by my furniture, laundry, and all the things I have come to known over the past few years. I'll never have that moment again, and I'm mourning over things that have passed beyond my reach. But I took this Polaroid tonight to remind me of God's promises to me. There was no music, and the air was uncharged. My room was devoid of all things except for a few choice pieces of furniture (bed, chair) and I was a unshowered, unkept mess.

He was still there, though. And His promises are still good--and I can still yearn and long for more and look beyond my little Berkeley apartment to greater things.