Sometimes we know things. Sometimes we pay attention. How often do we take action?

Sitting at a journalist’s kitchen table, we made an unexpected discovery that changed everything.

When I mentioned the importance of windows and their relationship to the voice of a child (for an article about Feng Shui), her eyes became like saucers—wide open and glistening with understanding. She stood up, hugged me, and told her story—

When they moved into this house, she insisted that every window in the house be replaced, despite the fact that all were in good condition. She felt a little crazy, especially when her husband gave her the total dollar amount and asked why she would want to spend this money for no reason. She felt “compelled” and “obsessed,” and continued to insist upon the change. Thousands of dollars later, she felt better. She never understood the reason for her “insanity.”

With tears in her eyes, she told me what she learned a few months after the window replacement was complete. The previous owner had molested young boys in the house for many years. He was arrested and put in jail where he remains. She learned all this reading an article in the newspaper. But, not until we spoke about windows, did she connect this information with her home’s new windows. As we discussed Feng Shui, she realized why she had insisted upon beginning the change with the window in the area of Children (the one directly next to us as we spoke.)

I watched her entire body shake with the realization that her intuition was spot on. She was very grateful that she listened and acted on her feeling. She expressed appreciation for her husband who followed through and made it all happen despite the expense and lack of “reasonableness.” She wrote publicly about the experience after I left, and let her readers know that having a practitioner do a clearing might have been a less expensive option.

Her life changed that day. Her writing changed that day. And, her relationship with her husband was strengthened as she shared the information and insight.

With Immense Gratitude for H. H. Grandmaster Professor Lin Yun

© Copyright 2020 by Katherine Metz

Below is a letter from one of Professor’s students to His Holiness after her son was injured in Iraq. It is part of a collection of stories that I gathered as a gift for Professor on his birthday. I was honored to be with Billy and his mother in Hawaii when he met Professor. It is a moment I will always remember.

Professor, my story involves not what I did, but what you did for my son, Billy. Last year in Nov. 2006, I came to you at the Boston workshop and showed you a picture of my son and told you he was in the Marine Corp and stationed in Iraq. I was sobbing so hard when I was telling you this story because of the great fear I felt for him for being in such a violent place.

You took the picture of Billy and said prayers and placed a protection around him and returned the photo to me and said, “Safe, Safe, Safe.” I instantly stopped sobbing for I knew in my heart that he was protected.

On January 13th 2007 my son was injured in a firefight, but his injuries were not life threatening, and with time were completely healed. I knew that it was because of your prayers and the protection you placed around him.

Billy is stationed in Hawaii and went to see you at the Hawaii workshop to express his gratitude for the prayers and protection you placed around him.

So, on behalf of my family, I would also like to say, “Thank You, We Are Grateful!” You have our deepest respect and heartfelt gratitude, always!

Semper Fidelis (Always Faithful),

Barbara

Wait! There’s more!

The story began before Billy left for Iraq. Barbara came to me asking if I knew of something from Professor that could help to keep Billy safe during his deployment. I offered her Worried About Someone, and she enthusiastically followed every step with great care. Billy carried the red ribbon with him every day, knowing that he carried both Professor’s blessings and his mother’s heart.

After Billy was injured in the firefight, he was transferred from the field hospital to a military hospital outside Iraq. None of his belongings were transferred with him. Yet, there on his bed, without explanation, was the red ribbon he had carried so carefully for months and months.

That was his first message to his mom.

With Immense Gratitude for H. H. Grandmaster Professor Lin Yun

© Copyright 2020 by Katherine Metz

I was invited to tour the National Center for Atmospheric Research along with a group of my students.
The complex of buildings sits on a mesa at the foot of the Rocky Mountains near Boulder, Colorado.
This is the story.

Celebrated, modernist architect I. M. Pei designed the buildings to house research facilities for five hundred scientists working for the National Weather Service. They are grouped in towers to ensure a degree of privacy for individual research groups. The concrete towers rise up from the landscape reaching upward as if to honor the atmospheric science  that happens there.

Adjoining the buildings are common-use facilities. On the terraced plaza, it was common to find researchers enjoying lunch around a large water fountain—until it was shut down when the mountain winds blew water everywhere, leaving employees wet and lunches soggy.

The plaza also features a rectangular area in which trees were planted in rows. For some reason, perhaps still unknown, the trees began to die—first one by one, then in numbers until all were lost. No malfunction was found in the watering mechanism or schedule.

After moving in, the occupants realized the tremendous pressure that the winds created against the buildings. They were often “frightened” by the ferocity of the wind. The buildings began to physically deteriorate after only a short period of time.

As time passed, funding for the government organization also began to deteriorate. Everyone working there was in danger of loosing his or her job, and the fear grew on a daily basis. Even strong links between departments began to fall apart.

To this day, I appreciate the candor we were afforded from the administrator who revealed these concerns. Then, almost as an afterthought, this happened.

She told us that the initial plan called for five buildings, but only four were built because funds ran out. The administrator told us that Mr. Pei had commented to her that it was a “pity” that this fifth building was not built, as it was the “root” of the complex.

I will never forget the moment. Concrete trees! Without roots! My immediate inspiration was to employ our Tree Cure, using color to create living, breathing, towering “trees” that would bear the fruit of stability and revitalization.

Having the great good fortune to ask Professor directly, his immediate response was, “He built it backwards. He should have built the root first. The four buildings are the branches, and they must now grow and deepen their own roots.” 

“Yes, use the Tree Cure!”

We were never asked to follow through, and I still wonder about the artistry it would have required. Yet, I will always remember the meeting of the minds of two artists, two masters, who understood the transcendental importance of what is missing.

With Immense Gratitude for H. H. Grandmaster Professor Lin Yun

© Copyright 2020 by Katherine Metz

Professor taught us to read chi, both personal chi and the chi of the environment. He helped us to elevate our yin/yang vision—the ability to “see through” something to its basic nature—to see the root of a chi imbalance, the truth of a child’s expression of fear, or the story that unfolds from a floor plan.

There are many ways to read chi, and Professor was a master of many including Nine Star Ki, Bazi, and Flying Stars. Many have asked me why Professor did not teach these methods. I cannot answer for Professor, but I can tell you what he did say about developing the talent of “seeing through.”

“When you look and learn to read the chi immediately, you have a tool that is not complicated. You don’t need a book to know what is up. You will never be caught off guard. You will approach the situation exactly as it is, and the message will come through automatically.”

I have found this to be true and the messages to be precise. After Professor left this human realm, I read the following. Professor loved science. I love science, and I hope Professor is smiling.

In an experiment with experts who read jurors for a living, scientists found the following. When these professionals see into and through a juror’s heart and mind, the part of their brain that lights up is the same part of the brain that lights up when one is experiencing compassion. It seems that when we look with our yin/yang eyes, we are exercising the part of our brain that is at work when we are compassionate.

Seeing “through” develops the muscle of compassion. I think Professor was, in his masterful way, teaching us more than we could have imagined.

With Immense Gratitude for H. H. Grandmaster Professor Lin Yun

© Copyright 2020 by Katherine Metz

On a windy, biting cold NYC morning, I missed the uptown bus. Shivering, I decided to walk as fast as I could. As I rushed along, something made me stop. I looked up to see a familiar, bright red circle high upon the wall. Had my teaching the day before set something into motion?

Grateful that the street was empty, I jumped up and down to see if there was writing on the circle. High upon this austere wall capped with barbed wire, were the words from Professor’s cure for nightmares. Immediately, I thought back to the end of the class I taught the day before.

One participant, with tears in her eyes, took both my hands and expressed her heartfelt thanks. Before I could get her name, she was gone. Was she the one who posted the circle on the wall? Her face stayed with me as I hurried to my destination.

Weeks later, in the crowded Fairway Market directly across from the Beacon Hotel where we met, I bumped baskets with the woman who lingered in my thoughts. There, among the array of spring flowers for sale on Broadway, she told her story.

She was plagued by the same terrifying nightmare for years. She tried therapy, remedies and medications, but continued to wake up screaming night after night. Her marriage was in jeopardy, her career at risk, and her sanity in question. In class she learned that she could reach to heaven and let the sun wash away the bad dream. At that moment she knew she had to act. She began the next day.

She followed the steps of the Bad Dream Cure carefully, and placed the red circle high upon the wall the first day, then the second, but the dream continued. With great faith, she persisted. Day after day she returned to the wall and posted a new red circle. Soon there was a line of circles. One day some were gone. Without any doubt she continued, trusting that each vanishing circle was a sign that the dream was disappearing.

With the ninth circle on the wall, she slept well. Today, her nightmare is over. The dream vanished along with the circles. All nine were gone on that bright new day. She was free.

I took this picture on the cold morning that I missed my bus—the first day of her courageous decision to trust her knowing. She created a spot of Buddha light on that dreary wall, and made spirit manifest in the concrete world.

The reach of transcendental thought is vast. I hope these stories will help you bring Professor’s wisdom to life in this challenging world.

With Immense Gratitude for H. H. Grandmaster Professor Lin Yun

© Copyright 2020 by Katherine Metz

Professor Lin stressed that Feng Shui will be very much needed as we move into the year 2000. He believes that the revolutionary, rapid pace of our developing technology presents a very real danger to living a balanced and nourishing life. He foresees that many will not be able to keep up, living isolated and fearful lives in a society that is being redefined almost moment to moment.

For instance, as we immerse ourselves in our computers and on the Internet, we run the risk of developing lonely, isolated, awkward, and distant chi. He used the word “strange” chi, and suggested that it is our job as Feng Shui practitioners to help those who become lost in a world that is changing quickly and becoming strangely foreign. We are all in need of help as the world changes so dramatically. The world is becoming a difficult place, especially for those sensitive to change and those without a spiritual grounding.

I can think of another example of a way that technology disrupts our sense of community, leaving us more isolated every day. Automobiles and automobile traffic have stolen from us the outdoor spaces where meaningful exchanges take place. Our front porches are now garages, and we have lost our outdoor living room. Our streets, which used to be part of our home territory and where our neighborhood culture flourished, have become only about movement of the automobile. We have lost the possibility of rich association and exchange, and the loss is built right in. Our voices are needed to reclaim our streets.

And don’t get me started on fences!

With Immense Gratitude for H. H. Grandmaster Professor Lin Yun

© Copyright 2020 by Katherine Metz

Did you know that Professor earned a degree in Urban Planning? Once I learned this fact, I began to ask a lot of questions about neighborhoods, communities, towns, cities, and nations. I was blessed to receive information about enhancing the morality of a community, fortifying the entrance, center and corners, and restoring life to a community in decline. I continue to follow the science of urban planning, and recently came across an article titled Mental Maps and the Neuroscience of Neighborhood Blight published in Pacific Standard. I hear Professor’s whispers once again.

It seems that we have “place cells” in our brain’s that are activated when we enter an environment. It is our memories that provide information to these cells. If you hear “Watts,” you remember the riots of 1965 that left 34 dead and more than 1,000 injured in the city of Los Angeles. The dramatic news coverage of raging fires, narrated with words like “looters,” and “hoodlums,” left an unforgettable mark. We, to this day, think of Watts as the most dangerous place in LA. Yet, it is no longer the case.

To revive a community that has been repeatedly read as a landscape of blight, fear, and even violence—to repair the damage done by our memories of place—we have to “convince people to re-experience” the place, to “update” their memories and beliefs. In a sense, according to researchers, we can “hack” our mental maps to change a neighborhood’s trajectory.

In this article it was suggested that one way to do so is to focus on telling the history of each neighborhood introducing tourists and outsiders to a neighborhood in decline, drawing them back and instilling new life. They call it “changing labels.”

Here are Professor words of wisdom from many years ago:

To revive a downtown that has been decimated by flight to the suburbs, create cultural events downtown that restore the history, excite the imagination, and delight the creative spirit. Sing. Dance. Provide places for sport, relaxation, and contemplation. Remember how this happened. Introduce something new. “Redefine the neighborhood.”

He was asking us to change our mental maps—our neurology.

“Only when these origin tales are understood can these restricted zones in our mental maps start to be filled in. And only then can change really begin.”

Science is catching up, and our cities need our personal touch.

With Immense Gratitude for H. H. Grandmaster Professor Lin Yun

© Copyright 2020 by Katherine Metz