In Feng Shui, we study how the Qi energies of our environment shape our lives.
The houses and spaces where we live or work are not just shelters — they are reservoirs that gather and store Qi, each in its own specific way. And this Qi is never neutral: it constantly interacts with the personal energy of the people who dwell within.

When we perform a Feng Shui analysis, we are really looking at layers — superimposed strata of influence. Traditional methods like the Eight Mansions (Ba Zhai) or the Flying Stars (Xuan Kong Fei Xing) describe these different layers. Some work slowly but leave long-lasting effects; others act faster, but with shorter-lived outcomes. Together, they explain how space supports or challenges us.

The Universe and Its Chinese Cosmology

The compass has gone digital. And it doesn’t argue with you.
The ancient masters carried scrolls, brushes, and long nights of starlight. We carry apps, screens, and Wi-Fi signals strong enough to reach the stars. Yet the questions remain the same: Where do I stand? What is my place in the great unfolding?

Chinese cosmology answers with a picture — a circle that contains both stillness and movement. At the center is Wu Ji: the Limitless. No edges, no form, pure potential. Out of that vast quiet emerges Tai Ji, the Supreme Polarity, where yin and yang swirl in endless embrace.

Lao Zi once whispered: “All things carry yin and embrace yang. Through their union, they achieve harmony.”
Confucius, ever more pragmatic, reminded us: “The superior man seeks harmony, not uniformity.”
And Jung, millennia later, would write: “Until you make the unconscious conscious, it will direct your life and you will call it fate.”

Three voices, three traditions, one truth: the universe is not chaos, but a pattern. And that pattern can be known.

From Tai Ji unfolds the rhythm of yin and yang, which in turn gives birth to the Five Elements — Wood, Fire, Earth, Metal, Water. Together, these weave the fabric of Qi, the life force.

Yet the pattern deepens further: the Two become Four, the Four become Eight, forming the Ba Gua, the Eight Trigrams. Each trigram is more than a symbol; it is a living archetype, a story of the world written in three lines.

There are two distinct ways of arranging the trigrams, and they tell two very different stories about the universe.

The Two Baguas — Earlier Heaven and Later Heaven

The Earlier Heaven Bagua (Fu Xi arrangement) represents the ideal model of the cosmos — a time when yin and yang were in perfect balance. It is a vision of the universe before human life, when Qi flowed in pure harmony, unbroken and eternal. This is the archetypal map of order.

The Later Heaven Bagua (King Wen arrangement), by contrast, belongs to the world after creation. It is the map of movement, the ceaseless circulation of Qi through the manifest world: the turning of day and night, the shifting of seasons, the endless cycle of birth, growth, decline, and renewal. Where the Earlier Heaven Bagua shows us perfection, the Later Heaven Bagua shows us change.

Understanding the geographical placement of these trigrams — and the quality of Qi associated with each direction — is essential. This is the first natural layer of energy in any home, one that cannot be altered by renovations or interior design. It is simply part of the landscape.

Each direction carries its own elemental imprint:

South is Fire, symbol of summer.
North is Water, symbol of winter.
East is Wood, rising in spring.
West is Metal, the crisp air of autumn.

Together, these create a natural calendar etched into space itself.

In the illustration below, the trigrams shown in red belong to the Earlier Heaven Bagua, while those in blue show the Later Heaven Bagua.

The energetic pattern of the Later Heaven Bagua exists in every dwelling, regardless of the trigram associated with that house. The elements in each sector act like filters — strengthening, moderating, or balancing the effects of other Qi energies present. Everything can be described in elemental terms, following the well-known cycles of generation and control that you see in the diagram to follow.

The Eight Trigrams — The Archetypes of Change

The trigrams are not just lines on parchment. They are the voices of heaven, earth, wind, thunder, mountain, lake, fire, and water. Together they create the grammar of existence. Each trigram tells us how the world moves, and how we move within it.

Qian ☰ — Heaven

Three solid lines. Pure yang. Qian is the father, the sky stretching endlessly above. It speaks of creation, leadership, vision. When you feel the push to rise higher, to expand beyond limits, that is Qian whispering in your chest.
But pure yang can scorch. Too much Qian becomes arrogance, command without compassion. The superior man, Confucius reminds us, seeks harmony — not domination.

Kun ☷ — Earth

Three open lines. Pure yin. Kun is the mother, the fertile ground that receives and nurtures. Where Qian commands, Kun responds. Where Qian gives shape, Kun gives substance.
It is patience, receptivity, quiet endurance. To walk with Kun is to know that strength often lies in yielding. But too much yielding, and the self dissolves into others’ will.

Zhen ☳ — Thunder

Yang rising beneath two yin lines. Zhen is movement, the sudden clap that breaks silence. It is shock, awakening, the restless call to act. People of Zhen never sit still; their lives spark with urgency.
Yet thunder without rain can terrify without nourishing. Energy needs direction, or it burns itself out.

Xun ☴ — Wind / Wood

Gentle yet penetrating, Xun is the breeze that enters every corner. Two yin lines topped by yang, it whispers rather than shouts. Xun is persuasion, subtle influence, the art of weaving through obstacles.
But the wind can also scatter. Without roots, it becomes fickle, directionless. The gift of Xun lies in constancy, not just charm.

Kan ☵ — Water

The middle line is yin, held between yang. Kan is the abyss, the flowing river, the deep unknown. It teaches resilience: water yields, but nothing resists it forever.
Kan people embrace risk, stepping into mystery. Yet the abyss can swallow. To live with Kan is to remember the balance between courage and caution.

Li ☲ — Fire

The middle line is yang, framed by yin. Li is flame, brilliance, illumination. It warms, it clarifies, it reveals. Fire people live brightly, inspiring others with their clarity.
But fire also consumes. Without fuel, it dies; with too much, it rages. To walk with Li is to learn the art of sustaining light without burning out.

Gen ☶ — Mountain

Two yin lines crowned by yang. Gen is stillness, the quiet peak that halts movement. It is meditation, reflection, the power of stopping before harm is done.
Mountains shelter, but they also isolate. Gen people know how to wait, how to pause, yet must remember that life also demands descent from the peak into the valley of others.

Dui ☱ — Lake

Two yang lines topped by yin. Dui is joy, pleasure, the laughter of a clear lake under the sun. It is openness, charm, the delight of shared company.
Yet lakes can be shallow. Too much Dui becomes indulgence, joy without depth. The wise drink deeply but do not drown in delight.

Together, these eight archetypes form the Ba Gua, the primal compass of change. But Chinese metaphysics does not stop there. The trigrams arrange themselves into palaces — homes of Qi that show how these forces interact in our lives.

Ba Zhai – The Eight Palaces Analysis

As we have already seen, every building is divided into nine sectors known as Palaces — eight aligned to the cardinal directions, plus the Central Palace. Each palace corresponds to one of the Five Elements according to the Luo Shu, the ancient Magic Square:

South – Fire
North – Water
Southwest – Wood
Northeast – Earth
Southeast, East – Wood
West, Northwest – Metal

This forms the first energetic layer of any house, one that is permanent and unchangeable.

The orientation of the building fixes its own energetic pattern — the way Qi is distributed inside. Unlike Flying Stars, which shift over time, the Eight Palaces (Ba Zhai) represent the fundamental, stable Qi imprint of a dwelling. Their influence unfolds slowly, sometimes over years, but always with deep and lasting effects. For this reason, every Feng Shui audit should begin with Ba Zhai analysis. Here the word “Palaces” is used intentionally — it should not be confused with the more generic “sectors” that appear in other contexts.

Just as every person has eight personal directions, determined by their Kua number, each house also has eight Palaces with corresponding energies. These divide into two groups: four favorable (F1–F4) and four unfavorable (U1–U4).

The names and elemental associations of these energies are:

• F1 – sheng qi (Greedy Wolf) – Wood
• F2 – tian yi (Heavenly Doctor) – Earth
• F3 – yan nian (Military Arts) – Metal
• F4 – fu wei (Assistant Star) – Wood
• U1 – huo hai (Mishaps Star) – Earth
• U2 – wu gui (Chastity Star) – Fire
• U3 – liu sha (Literary Arts) – Fire
• U4 – jue ming (Broken Soldier) – Metal

Each home has its own distribution of these Palaces. In the BaZi Advisor web app, the House’s Bagua is displayed clearly, see example image bellow.

By clicking on any Palace, you are taken to a detailed panel with decoded information about that sector. While it first appears connected to the Flying Stars, a red or green button at the top reveals the Ba Zhai analysis for that Palace — not only describing the Qi quality but also suggesting remedies for unfavorable energies, when applicable. These remedies are simple to apply, even without Feng Shui training, and their effects become noticeable over time. Many practitioners, in fact, began their journey this way.

Location over direction

An important principle to remember: location is far more powerful than personal direction. Your personal favorable directions are useful, but the underlying location of the Palace dominates.

Ba Zhai analysis works on long-term scales — a year or more. Therefore, if you are only staying in a rental for a year or two, you may not experience the full weight of these influences. In such cases, Flying Stars analysis becomes more relevant. But if you are choosing a long-term home — the place where you might raise your children, build your career, or retire — Ba Zhai analysis is crucial. This is when applying the recommended remedies to neutralize unfavorable Palaces can significantly improve the quality of life.

Sometimes, your personal positive directions can counterbalance negative Palaces. In such cases, the negativity is neutralized, making a difficult sector less harmful. This is why negative sectors are preferable to missing sectors, which cannot be balanced in the same way.

“Forms activate formulas”

Classical texts remind us of a guiding principle: Forms activate formulas. What does this mean? That external forms — the physical landscape, roads, buildings, water flows — determine the quality of Qi that enters the house. If the forms are positive and harmonious, even a Palace with unfavorable energy may not be activated. The same is true inside the home: sharp edges, clutter, or other Sha Qi generators can trigger negative energies.

For a deeper exploration of this topic, see our article “Examine Your Surroundings: Essential Feng Shui Start”. We will continue to expand on this essential subject in future posts.

Beyond the Eight — The 24 Mountains

At an advanced level, each of the eight cardinal sectors is divided further into three subsections (1, 2, and 3), giving rise to the 24 Mountains on the Luo Pan. These finer divisions are especially important when we want to activate specific Flying Stars with notable effects in life — for example, Nobleman, Peach Blossom, or other auspicious stars.

In the following section, let us explore the specific qualities of the Eight Palaces, one by one, and see what they mean for the homes we live in.

The Eight Palaces — Houses of Destiny

If the trigrams are voices, the palaces are rooms where those voices echo. Each palace carries an atmosphere, shaping the quality of Qi that lives there. To walk through them is to wander through the architecture of destiny.

Sheng Qi — Life-Generating Breath

This palace hums with vitality. Here, doors open easily, paths unfold smoothly, opportunities seem to arrive uninvited. To live in Sheng Qi is to feel the world nodding yes.
But even abundance must be tempered. Excess can soften willpower. In a house of constant yes, sometimes you forget the value of no.

Tian Yi — Heavenly Doctor

Here dwells healing energy. It is the palace of recovery, health, and protection. A place where bodies mend faster, where spirits grow lighter.
Yet even heavenly medicine has limits. To depend only on this palace is to forget that life’s true cure is often responsibility and care.

Yan Nian — Longevity

The palace of long ties and enduring bonds. Here relationships deepen, friendships stabilize, families root themselves. It is the home of continuity, of patient affection.
But longevity can harden into stagnation. Bonds that never shift can suffocate as easily as they support.

Fu Wei — Stability

This palace is steady ground. Here nothing shakes easily; it is safety, meditation, inner peace. In Fu Wei, the heart rests.
Yet stillness, if clung to, becomes inertia. Safety without risk dulls the spirit.

Jue Ming — Termination

Dark, difficult, unsettling. Jue Ming is the palace of endings, losses, abrupt turns. Yet in Chinese thought, endings are never final. From collapse comes the seed of new form.
As Lao Zi said: “New beginnings are often disguised as painful endings.”

Liu Sha — Six Killings

This palace vibrates with conflicts, disputes, entanglements. It teaches us the sharpness of words, the sting of rivalry, the cost of unresolved tension.
But conflict also reveals truth. Without friction, no spark. Liu Sha burns, but sometimes it forges.

Wu Gui — Five Ghosts

Here lie disturbances, restless energies, confusion. Wu Gui unsettles sleep, clouds judgment, rattles nerves. It is the palace of haunting — but also of awakening.
When shadows rise, the unconscious is speaking. Jung would remind us: “There is no light without shadow.”

Huo Hai — Mishaps

Small annoyances, constant obstacles, the drip-drip of inconvenience. Huo Hai is not catastrophe, but attrition: the leaking bucket, the daily delay.
Its lesson is patience. If Sheng Qi is the palace of yes, Huo Hai teaches us how to live with no.

What Remains to Be Said

From Wu Ji’s stillness to Tai Ji’s dance, from the trigrams’ archetypes to the palaces’ atmospheres, Chinese cosmology is not a theory but a mirror. It shows us how the universe moves — and how we might move with it.

The masters had scrolls. You have BaZi Advisor.
And perhaps the fastest Feng Shui cure really is a strong Wi-Fi signal.

Because whether on parchment or screen, the compass still points the same way: toward harmony, awareness, and the living rhythm of Qi.