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 six 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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