Posted by: Xhyra Graf | 13 September 2006

Frelling Feng Shui Dren…

I think I can be fairly sure that since the fever is down this writing isn’t delerium driven.  It may however have something to do with my policy of always drinking NyQuil in big gulps straight from the bottle. 

I can breathe again… ugh! I hate the flu.

I finally decided to read the Feng Shui book that has been gathering dust in my library.  God knows why I continue this internal struggle. Read, buy some books, don’t read, read, get disgusted, don’t read, buy some books, read.  So I read the Feng Shui Step by Step : Arranging Your Home for Health and Happiness--with Personalized Astrological ChartsFeng Shui book and find that everything is already set up according to whatever ancient harmony. I should cease to be amazed by these things. The clutter I have is in perfectly logical places according to my life.  In other words my time would have been better spent cleaning up the clutter than reading the book.  I find this kind of thing often. Frelling drives me farbot.

But Feng Shui is not why I write, that was last week. 

I gather my bottles of NyQuil, Extra Strength Tylenol and the bag of Ricola to watch The Essential Qigong Training Course: 100 Days to Increase Energy, Physical Health & Spiritual Well-BeingThe Essential Qigong Training Course.  I watch the slightly chunky white man with long hair speak quietly about Qigong, the Harmonious sounds and begin the movements. I have seen a chinese/japanese person move.  The completion of a movement is not a stiffness before you move on to the other, it is the end of a move.  There is a difference.  I get flashes of other dissonances.  Madonna with the contrived English accent and Kaballah, Angela Bassett as Tina Turner chanting Nom Myoho Rengye Kyo [forgive my spelling] and I get tired.  This kind of feeling is what finally made my decision against taking the Zen and the Art of Tea Ceremony Course… explains my resistance in general.  All roads are the same and subject to the foibles of the practitioner.  Fundamentalist zealot here, Fundamentalist zealot there.  “No matter where you go, there you are” Buckaroo Bonsai.

I was reading an article about the psychology of the Tea Ceremony that included in the first paragraph “There is nothing else like this ritual in the world”.  As I read this I thought, “Has no one ever seen an Orthodox Catholic Priest prepare communion?”  The grass is always greener… the failings of western religion are the failings of its practitioners.  I watch the Qigong guy move his arms through ballet first and second position and I grow weary. Especially as he constantly flubs the last portion of the hamonizing the breathe excercise.  How am I supposed to take him seriously when he doesn’t complete a movement he is teaching?!  He had spoken [or did I read] about how the ancient chinese shamans intuitively developed the movements and as I remember, I feel the urge to take another swig of NyQuil eventhough I’ve probably already swigged more than I should.  The NyQuil burn should make me feel a little more alive than this guy.  I just want to reach through the screen and slap him.  Finish rolling that last shoulder dahmet!

I try though, and go through it another time.  However, as he breathes “See ah”, I think “Right-o” and turn the DVD off.

Staring at the Quality of Red-Bottom Up on my desktop, I decide to take the Feng Shui lesson to heart.  Work through the movements myself from a combination of ballet [without the knee damaging turnout], memories of “The Dream II” movements, my own sensate intuition and listening to my breathing/body as I develop.  I’ll try to push the thought that this is the story of my life to the back of my head, try to drown out my own words about the “activity that more deeply entrenches us in linear time”. 

Have to finish what I started and write the essay after all, even though as I get older I feel as I did when younger, looking upon the ‘stage’ of it all…full of dren we are.  Frell…

“See yah”



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