Portfolio: The First House & The Self
Note: this is the SECOND installment in a series on how I combine astrology, Feng Shui and energy healing. SEE THE COLLECTION HERE.
The question "who am I?" is one that draws many to the esoteric arts, especially astrology. Longing to see your true self and to have it seen by others drives conscious arrangements and unconscious entanglements alike, leading some toward divination to resolve the tension.
Astrology doesn't necessarily tell you who you are, but it can unsettle your certainty about who you're allowed to be.
Astrology doesn't necessarily tell you who you are, but it can unsettle your certainty about who you're allowed to be. It highlights the expectations that are baked on by society, culture and family, then gets beneath this flaky edge of the performative self to jettison the confection of acclimation you may be presenting to the world.
At some point, your beginner's mind dissolved into that crust of conditioning because it was required for survival. In the quest for reunion with authenticity, the story told by the first house in your natal chart, offers a trajectory.
This is not to hand you a new personality, but to describe a deeper purpose by illuminating paths toward growth. Orienting toward why you came here can move nervous energy out of existential crisis mode and into creative endeavors, as the urgency of the question "who am I?" fades in the presence of a clear purpose.
I look for clues in the part of my home that is the Li Gua (fame and reputation) that might reinforce or add nuance to the purpose outlined by my first astrological house. Here, a staircase is the main feature, suggesting that the process of connecting upper and lower realms is key to why I'm here.
When I moved into Winona Lookout, this staircase was dark: painted a gray-olive color, with just a small window at the top of the stairs. For only a few hours in the afternoon the sun briefly illuminates a small patch there, bringing precious little fire to the one section of the bagua associated with that element.
To introduce some yang energy, I painted the staircase with the slightly-pinkish shade called Ibis White. This brought a flood of yang to counter the yin conditions - too much.
The proper runner for this steep and narrow space could add yin back in, and the quest ended in a vintage Morrocan rug. With yin hues of plum, burnt orange, olive and sand, enlivened by an irregular zig-zag pattern, these calmer tones could yet radiate yang energy through their dynamic pattern. The presence of orange, though muted, delivered the much-needed fire.
With the yin and yang energies now more balanced and the fire element introduced, I turn my imagination to the unfinished room beyond the base of these stairs which forms an "extension" from the Li gua.
Extensions - or parts of the home that jut out past the main perimeter of the Bagua - are considered auspicious, though this extra space feels anything but. A sagging floor atop a questionable foundation is surrounded by uninsulated walls that, even with two windows, lend a claustrophobic feeling.
There's a hunger for light that lives on this west side of the house, as it faces a ledge of steep moss-covered rock and only has a few windows from which to view the beautiful formation. When I ask this space "who am I?” this arrangement tells me there's something wanting to be seen, and waiting to see more clearly, but not quite ready.
Before that happens, there's a new foundation to lay, and decisions to make about how to let more light in. I could keep the intimate 10x10 footprint and add a window facing the beautiful mossy rock ledge, or I could expand to create a space where more people can gather. With outer forces conspiring to delay progress - a dearth of contractors and supply chains uncertain - its potential auspiciousness is in maintenance mode.
Likewise I'm keeping my reputation, my self, my purpose free of clutter and cobwebs while meditating on the Ibis of Egyptian mythology: healer and mover between realms.