“Clarice,” a 50-something , attractive, well-educated single woman was an executive coach with a home-office in an established neighborhood. Based on her Nine-Life-Domains inventory, she was looking for a relationship, greater connection with her new neighborhood, and a space that would allow her (predominantly male) clients to feel more comfortable and open-up about their challenges. She was a meditator, yoga-practitioner and seriously wanted change in her life.
The house presented well, door facing the street, no sidewalk connecting it to the street, or landscaping of any kind. The interior was meticulously kept, decorated in shades of white with silks, brocades, beaded pillows, dozens of gold and silver cherubs, no plants or lamps (except in the bedroom) and all furniture squared with the wall. The bedroom had floor to ceiling silk curtains, a white beaded bedspread with heavily beaded throw pillows – and cherubs. Lots of cherubs.
As I offered some ideas, she sucked in breath and let me know we would “not be rearranging. ” Every suggestion was met with “no.” It was early in my career, and I was a little flummoxed. A mutual friend and former client had recommended my services to her and warned me “this one might be tricky.”
As much as she wanted change, she was absolutely rigid about making changes in her surroundings. What to do…
I offered a deal: “How about you give me ten-minutes, to make some adjustments and move things around. Take some deep breaths and I promise, if you don’t like it, I’ll put everything back exactly as it is now. That, she could manage.
I worked feverishly – angling the couch to create an “open arms” feeling when walking, moved an end table and the throw rug.
When I looked up – to my horror, she was crying. I was the one who needed to take a deep breath next. I asked her about the tears.
Her reply: “I’ve been searching for “home” ever since I moved in – and what you just did… it finally happened. THIS feels like home.
The changes that day were simple, but profound. From that point on, she gave me cart-blanche for other changes.
In addition to the physical changes in arrangement, we jettisoned at least half the cherubs, and I recommended:
She asked if I would help her shop, because, she said: “I don’t DO COLOR!” She had a fantastic time playing with possibilities as we shopped and totall changed the feel of her home.
In addition to finally feeling “at home” and more “at peace” in her own home, the following specifically related to aspirations occurred:
Question: “Why is symbolism so important in Feng Shui?
“Erica,” well-to-do, 60-ish professional woman, author and speaker, lived in an upscale neighborhood in and expressed a concerns:
The bedroom (n the relationship corner of the home), was:
Everything in this consult pointed to the symbolism in the artwork, furnishings and placement of features/items in the house. starting with the oil-painting.
Keeping in mind her statement about “emotional desert,” the oil-painting of “desolation”was the first thing seen every day when walking into the house and into main living space of the house. This constant subliminal reminder of the barrenness of life, had become the way she felt about life. Carl Jung might have called this constant reminder , a psychological feedback loop.
The bed, itself, was part of the cause of the feeling of fatigue associated with relationships. Sleeping in front of a door is problematic in that it increases a sense of vulnerability, and the body and spirit are impacted by the energy moving through the door across the body.
Psychologically, the right brain is always scanning for threat at night and the door represents potential threat (even if you consciously feel safe in the space).
Most interesting was treadmill, (remember the placement): regarding her statement: “relationships are work and don’t go anywhere.” No matter how hard we work on a treadmill, it never takes us anywhere!
Finally, the exit door, is symbolic of a quick exit out of any relationship.
Finally, the issue about the heaviness in the house, led to an exhaustive exploration of the possibilities to explain sense of foreboding – i.e stored documents about divorce, financial ruin, etc. Nothing seemed evident and there was o sense of “other” presence in the space.
When I asked her where else she had storage, she mentioned the attic, in an off-hand way.
“t’s just old manuscripts and research for a book I wrote.” After more questions, it came out that the book covered the background and murder trial of a celebrity, for a grizzly murder that had galvanized the country for over a year. All of that energy was hanging out in the attic and permeating the feel of the house!
1. Find another place for the desert painting and replace itwith something more symbolic of balance, and health.
2. Move the bed to a spot with greater privacy, where she could see the door, but not be in lie with it.
3. Get the treadmill out of the bedroom along with anything else that suggests “work.”
4. Drape of otherwise reduce the prominence of the door out of the bedroom – to reduce prominence the idea of a quick exit.
5. Remove the research documents from the attic and place them in off-site storage.
6. After accomplishing these changes, shift the language around “desolation” and relationship. Words have their own energy and power in directing outcome.
Usually, during the consultation, we are able to rearrange furniture to achieve optimize results, but these moving the bed and treadmill would require Herculean effort. That said, after hundreds of consults, I know these adjustment would have a profound impact on her life.
Shift was already set in motion by her commitment and the space clearing/blessing done t the end of every consult. .
My goal in working with a client who needs help with clutter, whether it’s physical, mental or social clutter, is three-fold:
With the above in mind, here are a few do’s and don’t’s for a physical declutter/organization session:
DO:
DON’T: