Portfolio: The Fourth House & Family

Note: this is an installment in a series on how I combine astrology, Feng Shui and energy healing. SEE THE COLLECTION HERE.

How do you feel about how you feel? The fourth house in astrology is about family and the foundation that fosters your feelings. Think of the parent who displays extreme emotion when their toddler falls down vs. the one who says "you ok, sport?" and helps the child back up. Through feedback from our closest caregivers, we learn how to match outward expressions with inner sensations, and therefore what it means to have feelings.

The fourth house is associated with the sign Cancer and also with the moon. With Aries as my 4th house, my Mars in cancer and my Moon in Gemini, my relationship to feelings is the quick, let's-get-this-over-with, "next!" variety. It's no surprise I have an action orientation here; with all those feelings-related placements paired with the air and fire elements in my chart, I can easily compartmentalize emotions in the interest of keeping the show on the road.

Chart comparing the Astrological 4th house with the Zhen gua in Feng Shui

Similarly in my home, the Zhen gua, which is associated with ancestors, family and health, is no place to linger. The main entrance is found here, and it opens right into the kitchen, leaving very little space for art, objects, or even a place to put down keys or hang coats. It's the most high-traffic area of the house, with 4 doors in a small space (if you count the refrigerator and trash can) contributing to fast-moving ch'i (what energy is called in Feng Shui). Suffice to say, this area does not encourage reflection.

When I began to renovate the kitchen, which contains the Zhen gua, I encountered 3 layers of asbestos-laden linoleum here. For the better part of a century, those who came before me chose to cover over the past with a shiny new surface, rather than refurbish or replace what had grown old.

The original floors revealed below the layers

What I found below these layers was very old, uneven, knotted and splintered hardwood, sloping two inches from one side of the kitchen to the other. After removing toxic asbestos layers, facing the ugly reality of the unworkable surface below, and letting the fantasy of charming original hardwood go, a metaphor about inter-generational trauma healing began to form.

Like self-healers who recognize and repair the inherited behavior patterns that mysteriously suffocate their spirit, I took the time and made the investment to completely remove these layers of toxic coverings. Much like parents with the best intentions, the homeowners who came before me didn't realize their choices at the time were actually layering something toxic into the foundation of the space, but those who come after me will benefit from this restorative act of removal.

Kitchen - before, with 3 layers of asbestos-laden linoleum

Kitchen - after, with Portuguese cork flooring

Where once I had dreams of refurbished original farmhouse hardwood kitchen floors, I now had to compromise. Especially since the counter tops would be abnormally high now without a full renovation, which was financially not in the cards. To create a new, level floor, a series of long shims were placed to even it out from east to west, then plywood on top of those. I then laid down natural Portuguese cork—a nod to one part of my heritage—to create the new surface. I was covering over the original floors yet again, but at least this time, it was non-toxic and, with the click-together panels, easily removable in the future.

Boba and Dakota bask in morning light on the kitchen’s new cork flooring

I thought about what I could do with the limited space available here to acknowledge my ancestors and remind myself of their presence living through me. On the window sill, a pink ceramic cup with a very tactile lily sculpted on its surface holds rusty nails saved from the kitchen's original hardwood floor. It was my father's mother's, and I have no idea what it might have meant to her.

A Navy-issued belt buckle from my mother's father is placed next to the cup. Was he wearing it when his ship was blown in half out in the Pacific? I was told he was, by miracle of trading shifts with a friend, on the half that didn't sink, and was tasked with bringing up the bodies after it was towed to Hawaii. This, along with one or two other, more mundane details, is the entirety of what I know about his life.

I see this incomplete picture of my ancestors reflected in the unfinished quality of this space. Even a year after the major renovations to the kitchen, this part of the house still needs paint on the trim. Like the process of refinishing the floor, I've uncovered, and attempted to reset, a lot of generational patterning that came from a rough and knotted underlayer of tragedy. But, the completion of the details of the space, like my grasp of my ancestors’ lives, is a slow drip.

Taking time and making space to feel your feelings, and remember their origins, is the simplest foundation of healing, and you can look to the 4th house, your Cancer house and your moon placement in your birth chart for clues about how feelings function for you. Then, look to the Zhen gua in your home for ways to explore how that process is currently going, and give it some support using the principles of Feng Shui.

Green was chosen to contribute the “wood” element for the backsplash tile in the kitchen, as a way to support the Zhen gua of ancestors

Like the parts of my home associated with reputation (1st house/Li gua) and my money guas (2nd house/Kun gua), there is an unfinished extension in my home where the Zhen gua is, similarly a bit cobwebbed and overlooked. Such a condition could be seen as detrimental, but I'll translate it to "potential". The potential to create more time and space, such that generations before me did not have, to be in the body of my home and the home of my body.