A tale about Feng Shui
from Hornbill Unleashed
By Sim Kwang Yang
ThursdayYears ago, before I opened a shop and started running a business, I was advised by a friend to consult this Feng Shui master in Kuching city. Although I generally do not subscribe to geomancy, public opinion dictated that I should submit to an appraisal under that ancient system of belief.
The Feng Shui master turned up at my front door one fine morning. He was a frail man, bent by age, but looked energetic enough. Presently, he brought up his Lo Pan, the metallic instrument with which he read the changing features of the landscape.
He started to explain to me in very metaphorical language about how the landscape was going to help me in my business. In his description, the colourless features of the land in that corner of Jalan Ban Hock suddenly assumed animated characters, filled with qi and other forms of energy, invisible to the naked eye. The prognosis from his reading was that my business would thrive if I followed his instructions, in placing the cash register next to the stove.
In following the advice of the Feng Shui master, I was treading in the footsteps of numerous Chinese businessmen before me. In various parts of East Asia, and now in mainland China, people opening a new business would not dream of starting earthworks without first consulting a Feng Shui master.
In ancient China, it was said that where and how you bury your dead will determine the fortune of your next generation.
Fortune tellers are always looking for the Dragon Vein, the formation of land features, especially the rise and fall of hills and slopes. This promises a booming fortune for the descendants of anyone buried in it. In China, family members will postpone the burial for years to allow time for the Feng Shui master to search for the ideal cemetery plot. According to one tale, the choice of such a dragon plot can ensure the prosperity of the families of those buried for many generations.
Having been steeped in Chinese myths all my life, I am not unfamiliar with many of the stories surrounding Chinese Feng Shui.
On the one hand, custom dictates that I pay full respect to the practices of Feng Shui, although I do not understand its workings. The practice has centuries of history behind it and it takes people in the know to spew out all the secrets behind the science that makes Feng Shui work. On the face of it, it would be unreasonable for me to reject the entire art of Feng Shui altogether. After all, 5,000 years of civilisation cannot be completely wrong.
On the other hand, however, the practice of Feng Shui is couched in such esoteric and abstract metaphysical terms, that what is uttered by its practitioners means very little to me. As far as I can understand, the Feng Shui master’s understanding of his art has little connection with ordinary language in the real world. He might as well be speaking Greek to the world at large.
I suppose my criticism about Feng Shui can be applied to any branch of metaphysics that relies heavily on the obscure arts, which are less than accessible to ordinary human senses. I am thinking of all the ‘sciences of the occult’ which seem to find a permanent home among our human civilisations.
In the face of so many mesmerising truths in our complex world, I have always tried to remain tolerant of truths that are not considered orthodox. The world is a large place and there are many things which we do not understand. Instead of condemning all the truths that we do not like, sometimes it is better to suspend our personal convictions and to grant space to differing opinions, taken with a big grain of salt.
This is also a humble admission that we do not know everything. We live in a confusing world with many conflicting doctrines and dogmas, clamouring for our loyalty.
It is easy to forget that ‘truth’ has many faces, and plurality is a virtue in this confusing world of ours. For those who prefer Feng Shui, so be it, as long as their activity hurts nobody else. There is no point starting an ideological war over this abstract metaphysical doctrine. To each his own, I say!
(The author can be reached at kenyalang578@hotmail.com. All comments are welcomed.)
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