I Ching with Clarity

This is another post about the differences between hexagrams: this time, Hexagrams 23, Stripping Away, and 41, Decreasing. Both are about loss, about ending up with less, and - given human nature - we tend not to be pleased to receive either one. But how are they different?

Names and shapes

Looking up the hexagram names in the dictionary, there seems to be a great deal of overlap in meaning.

Bo, 'stripping away', literally means peeling off the skin: the ancient character contains a 'knife' element, to cut with. (I've seen the hexagram representing surgery to remove something.) The dictionary meanings include flaying, peeling, falling off and dropping away, and also injuring and excoriating in the more abstract sense of brutal criticism.

Sun at its simplest just means 'decrease', but by extension this comes to mean harm, destruction, weakening, and also biting, mocking criticism. The ancient character shows a round vessel and a hand, which in the context of the hexagram always makes me think of emptying out and making space.

But in the dictionary, these two aren't all that different: two kinds of destruction, two kinds of criticism. One distinction that could be helpful, I think, is that bo strips away the surface, while sun reduces the substance. This all becomes much clearer when you look at the hexagrams themselves -

If you remember that the energy and story always travels from the bottom line to the top, then you can see at once how Hexagram 23 is a snapshot of a 'peeling' process, with the topmost solid line the last one to go. (Or we might imitate Adam Schwartz, take inspiration from line 5, and see the hexagram picture as the skeleton of a filleted fish, ready for its final 'stripping away' in the stock pot.)

For Hexagram 41, Wilhelm's explanation of the tradition is invaluable. We should think of this hexagram as a development of Hexagram 11, he explains, in which lines 3 and 6 have changed places:

'What is below is decreased to the benefit of what is above. This is out-and-out decrease. If the foundations of a building are decreased in strength and the upper walls are strengthened, the whole structure loses its stability. Likewise, a decrease in the prosperity of the people in favor of the government is out-and-out decrease. And the entire theme of the hexagram is directed to showing how this shift of wealth can take place without causing the sources of wealth in the nation and its lower classes to fail.'

I don't in the least agree that 'trickle upward' is the hexagram's entire theme, but it does help to see that third line reaching upward, like the mists from the lake drifting up the mountainside.

Oracles

Big differences here -

'Stripping away.
Fruitless to have a direction to go.'

'Decreasing: there is truth and confidence.
From the source, good fortune.
Not a mistake, there can be constancy.
Fruitful to have a direction to go.
How to use this?
Two simple baskets may be used for the offering.'

One is blunt and direct, one is gently reassuring. And they have exactly opposite things to say about 'having a direction to go.'

Hexagram 23, for me, carries the message that this is being taken from you. To have a direction to go is to have a direction of travel, to follow your intentions or just your curiosity and see where it leads you. Stripping Away is no time to set out to attain or explore anything. 'I wonder if I tried it this way instead…?' - nope. Still not happening.

When I'm introducing Hexagram 23 to someone, I often talk about falling leaves, and how you don't run round searching for ways to reattach them to the trees. I just learned that those beautiful red-orange-yellow autumn pigments were always present in the leaf; it's only that the active chlorophyll that masked them is lost as the leaf dies. An outer surface with no more inner life will always fall away.

It's harder to find an analogy in nature for Hexagram 41, because this is about making an offering: a human, purposeful act. (Maybe the maintenance of acid-base homeostasis in the blood by decreasing calcium stores in the bones?) Made with truth and confidence, this brings good fortune and is - despite how it feels - no mistake at all. Something is offered up from below for the sake of what is above. It's fruitful - vital, I think - to have a direction for this, to know why you are doing it.

The Tuanzhuan, commentary on the oracle, captures the difference.

For Hexagram 41, in the Wilhelm/Baynes translation:

"What is below is decreased, what is above is increased; the direction of the way [dao] is upward. … 'Two small bowls' is in accord with the time. There is a time for decreasing the firm and a time for increasing the yielding. In decreasing and increasing, in being full and being empty, one must go with the time. "

And for Hexagram 23, from Bradford Hatcher:

"Decomposing means stripping away. The flexible alters the firm. Not worthwhile to have somewhere to go, the common people prevail. Accept and stop here. Look at the image. The noble young one respects waning and waxing as surplus and want and as heaven's behavior."

The two commentaries share the message of timeliness, but Hexagram 41 implies there is a time to decrease the firm, to make your offering, while Hexagram 23 simply witnesses and respects the timing of heaven. The message of the trigrams is, 'Accept and stop here.'

Images

So Decreasing offers something up for the sake of something higher, but it seems Stripping Away just happens to you, with no 'for the sake of' about it. However… the Image, telling stories with the trigram pictures, finds something different. Both are about human responses to loss:

'Below the mountain is the lake. Decreasing.
A noble one curbs anger and restrains desires.'

For Decrease, it helps to put a mountain-sized lid on your resentments and desires.

'Mountain rests on the earth. Stripping Away.
The heights are generous, and there are tranquil homes below.'

Or as Wilhelm translates,

'Thus those above can ensure their position
Only by giving generously to those below.'

Either way, you can see there's an emergent sense of purpose in the Image of 23: a deliberate 'trickle down' effect, for Wilhelm. But the text here is somewhat depersonalised: it refers literally to 'above' and 'below', unlike every other Image text, which name individuals: noble ones, princes or ancient kings. This is a power relationship, of course, but to me it also looks like a process of erosion, from the mountain into the valley - a lot like leaf fall, returning organic matter to the ground, creating healthy soil for the spring growth to come.

There's purpose here, but something beyond human purposes. The wheel of the year is turning; the old falls away for the sake of new growth to come, and this has not much to do with your chosen 'direction to go'. But the Image invites you to see the purpose at work, and maybe join with it. What might this loss nourish and sustain in future? If you could experience your loss as something more like erosion into the fields, or more like donation than taxation, how would that be different?

A couple of line texts

(Just a couple, not all six. Two simple baskets!)

Lines 3

'Stripping away. No mistake.'

'Three people walking,
Hence decreased by one person.
One person walking,
Hence gains a friend.'

Isn't it interesting that neither of these third lines is ill-omened? After all, the third line of a hexagram is often a perilous place. It's on the cusp of stepping across the threshold from the inner to outer trigram, from the inner world of theory to the outer world of practice. And so it can have a sense of striving, pushing at the barrier - eager for commitment and ready to put its ideas to the test. Sometimes it hesitates or struggles; sometimes it can lack grounding and be overconfident. On a human scale, it seems to me like a teenager.

So why, in a time of Stripping Away, is that not a mistake? I wonder if it might be the idealism of line 3: melding with and embodying the pure spirit of the hexagram, ready to let it all fall away. (In this it's quite similar to the third line of Hexagram 59, Dispersing: 'Dispersing your self without regrets.') Hence it will be still - this moving line changes the inner trigram to mountain and the hexagram as a whole to 52, Stilling - and not try to make things happen. No mistake: no loss of connection to the quality of the time.

Hexagram 41, line three, leads to separating from the crowd. Remember the traditional analysis of the hexagram, how 11's line 3 has moved up to the 6th place, decreasing the lower trigram for the sake of the upper. So this line, where the mists rise from the surface of the inner lake, embodies the hexagram's knowledge about having/being less and looking upward. Drawn onward by its relationship with line 6 (I think of something like this), and perhaps by that teenaged idealism and inner independence, it will walk away from security in numbers.

Lines 4

'Stripping the bed by way of the flesh.
Pitfall.'

'Decreasing your affliction,
Sending the message swiftly brings rejoicing.
Not a mistake.'

Fourth lines, newly emerged into the outer world, tend to ask, 'What can I do here?' which is exactly the wrong question to be asking in a time of Stripping Away. 'Oh, is this a time for cutting away the surface? Here, how can I contribute to that?' Prompted by the eager, 'seize the day' attitude of Hexagram 35, this line takes up the knife, to disastrous effect.

But when Decreasing asks, 'What can I do here?' there is a ready answer: act to decrease suffering. 23.4 inflicts wounds, but 41.4 heals. It's actually not necessarily 'your' affliction, but a general possessive: your/their/its - perhaps whatever pain belongs to the situation, which might have something to do with its 'step of change' hexagram, 38, Opposing, and alienation.

'What can I do?' As always in Hexagram 41, give something up, let something go - in this instance, anxiety, and perhaps also the sense that this is a Great Divide / Existential Crisis. The action called for here is generally much smaller and simpler than agonising over it. The message to be sent, or action to be taken, varies: it seems to be whatever small thing will create a shift. ('Small works, good fortune,' says the Oracle of 38).

In readings…?

I've been browsing through years of 23 and 41 in my own journal, always asking myself what the 'direction to go' might be in each reading.

With Hexagram 41, I always had less of something: time, or sugar, or freedom, or control, or a parcel that got lost in the post. And I always needed to find the reason why. Often I was making the sacrifice consciously, and just needed to remember what it was for. (Stop eating sugar for the sake of your teeth!) Sometimes the loss wasn't one I would have chosen, but there was still a reason for it. If I could find my direction to go, then the whole experience of loss would be transformed. Also, typically, it's not half as bad as I'd imagined. Those "two simple baskets" often have a subtext for me of "and you can stop overdramatizing now".

With hexagram 23, my own purposes have nothing to do with anything and are best forgotten. Typically, the matter is out of my hands, and I need to "accept and stop here," as the commentary says. But sometimes, especially when lines higher in the hexagram are changing, there's also a sense that I need a complete change. Peeling and stripping away will create a tabula rasa, a true, fresh start for something new to grow. 'Heaven's behaviour', not my ideas.

So I think that both hexagrams can contain promise. The core distinction is that Hexagram 41 means giving things up for the sake of your higher intention, while 23 means losing things such that your own intentions cannot be realised, and the promise of new growth comes only through that blank slate.

Imaginary readings

A couple of imaginary readings, for comparison.

'Where's this relationship going?' If it's stripping away, I should think that's the end. If it's decreasing, then I wonder whether there might be sacrifices to make for the sake of the relationship - or whether the relationship itself might occupy less time and energy for the sake of some other, higher purpose.

'How to make progress with a project?' Hexagram 41 would tell me to simplify it: downsize, invest less, focus on quality not quantity. Hexagram 23, I think, would ask me to consider seriously what had reached its natural end, what I was keeping up out of some kind of 'sunk costs' fallacy, and what could be cleared out of the way to allow something completely new to grow.

I Ching Community discussion

As you might have guessed from the title of this episode, it's about a reading with Hexagram 22, Beauty, changing at line 1 to 52, Stilling:

It was all about becoming imperfectly visible - which the reading's owner has just begun to do on her Youtube channel...

https://livingchange.s3.us-east-1.amazonaws.com/episode48.mp3

There's more than one story of the Yi's origins…

Mythical origins

The story begins in the 29th century BCE with Fuxi, China's first emperor, who may have had the body of a serpent. It was through his insight that the trigrams were discovered, and people could begin to understand their world:

"In high antiquity, when Fuxi ruled the world, he looked up and observed the figures in heaven, looked down and saw the model forms under heaven. He noted the appearances of birds and beasts and how they were adapted to their habitats. He examined things in his own person near at hand, and things in general at a distance. Hence he devised the eight trigrams with power to communicate with spirits and classify the natures of the myriad beings."

This story comes from the Dazhuan, the Great Treatise (in Richard Rutt's translation), which is part of the Yijing itself. In another version, the trigrams were inspired by the markings on the back of a dragon-horse that emerged from the Yellow River - but I find the Great Treatise's version the most resonant and eloquent. We can all still look at our own bodies and the natural world and see trigrams.

At least a millennium later - maybe two - the future King Wen of the Zhou (1152–1050BCE) was imprisoned by the Shang tyrant Zhouxin. During his imprisonment, he combined the trigrams into hexagrams, and gave the hexagrams their names. After his death, his son the Duke of Zhou added texts to the moving lines.

And Confucius (551-479BCE), a faithful student of the wisdom of early kings, wrote the Ten Wings - all the commentaries that have become part of the Yijing we know, such as the Image text describing the noble one's response to a hexagram's trigrams.

So the story unfolds naturally, from simple trigrams through hexagrams to changing lines and finally the addition of the Wings.

(A much fuller version of this story - the most vivid and colourful one I've read yet - can be found in the introduction to Benebell Wen's I Ching.)

Historical origins

The history of the Yijing's origins, as it's been pieced together from archaeological records and textual analysis, is - unsurprisingly - altogether more mysterious and less clear than its myth.

The earliest records of divination in China, dating from the Shang dynasty (c.1600-1046BCE), are of pyromancy: divination with fire. Tortoise plastrons and ox scapulae were carefully prepared, drilled and cracked by the application of heat. The cracks could be interpreted by the king - mostly, it seems, to give direct 'yes' or 'no' answers on questions of policy (would there be good weather for a hunting expedition? was now the right time to open this field for ploughing?), though sometimes with a little more detail. The questions and sometimes also the oracle's responses were inscribed on the bone and kept as records. It's not clear whether the bone oracle was a direct ancestor of the Yi - perhaps it's more of an older cousin.

But there are also records of a counting oracle in the Shang: people recorded series of six numbers that had 'spoken', like a cracked bone could 'speak'. If you've ever cast a reading with yarrow stalks or coins, you've joined this tradition: generated a series of six numbers, paid attention to their pattern and listened to what it has to tell you. The numbers used have changed, but the basic principle of differentiating odd numbers (which we call 'yang' lines now) from even ('yin') is ancient. Were the Shang already sorting and counting yarrow stalks? We have no way of knowing.

The oracle we recognise as the Yi was brought together in the early years of the Zhou Dynasty, around 800 BCE. Hexagrams, those series of six numbers, now had names and associated text that anyone could learn. The text was drawn from many sources: sayings, song, legend, myth, maybe divination records for the hexagram or line. (WikiWing has its roots in a long tradition!)

The Zuozhuan has several early records of divination with Yi, which hint at how it was spread across the kingdom by travelling diviners and became more widely known, working its way into people's language and understanding. Over the centuries, as people added their reflections, experience and commentaries to the core text, it became recognised as a book of wisdom. And in 136BCE, the Yi along with its Wings was one of the five core texts, the Wujing, identified as underpinning all Chinese thought.

(The more recent reprints of my book - 2018 and 2021 - have a fuller historical introduction. It doesn't include all I wanted to, as it had to be cut by about 30% for publication, but Change Circle members can download the original, uncut version from the Change Circle Library.)

A 'fact check'

So, what of the mythical version?

Were the trigrams in use for millennia before they were combined into hexagrams? I don't know of any evidence for that - though it does look as though hexagrams have long been understood as interacting trigrams. (The Fuxi bagua or Early Heaven Arrangement of the trigrams, though, is not ancient - it's considerably younger than the Later Heaven arrangement, as Harmen Mesker explains.)

Are hexagram names and texts a generation older than changing lines? Maybe. Fragments of the Guicang, traditionally said to be the hexagram oracle of the Shang dynasty, have been discovered - and they contain hexagram texts but nothing resembling a line text. Intriguingly, the hexagram names of the Guicang are very often the same as those in the Yi, even though the text that follows is completely different. The same hexagram is named 'Marrying Maiden', for instance, but what follows is the story of Heng E stealing the elixir of immortality and fleeing to the moon.

Did King Wen name the hexagrams and write the oracles? Did the Duke of Zhou write the line texts? How would anyone know? (It's worth noting, though, that the Great Treatise itself doesn't attribute the text to them, simply to 'sages', and you'd think that if their authorship had been commonly accepted at the time, they would have been given credit.)

And did Confucius write the Wings? No - but plenty of his wisdom found its way into them.

Beyond the 'fact check'

…there's an oracle whose origins no-one can pretend to understand.

Who first realised that strings of three or six numbers had meaning? Or discovered if you put a question to the spirits and generated a 'random' series of numbers, your question would be answered?

How did they know that - for instance -

meant 'marrying maiden' specifically, or that

meant 'abundance'?

Who had the insight that these numbers/lines might be changing?

How did they not only name single hexagrams, but create a complete matrix where any hexagram can change into any other - and the nature of that change is captured in the moving lines?

(And not just when the hexagrams differ by one line, but multiple lines? Imagine trying to create something that complex…)

And while we're asking, how come casting coins at random delivers a meaningful answer?

(I'm fairly sure the archaeological technique to answer these has not been invented yet.)

I Ching Community discussion

An annual reading, this time: the first thing Maria does on her birthday is to sit down and ask to be shown a reading for the coming year. Here's hers for 2023-24: Hexagram 36, Brightness Hiding, with no changing lines.

Since this was an unchanging reading, we had the time and space to explore some of the hexagram's 'relations': its inverse and contrast, 35, Advancing -

and its complement or opposite - the hexagram where every line is different - 6, Arguing:

And not least, its hidden core, the nuclear hexagram, 40:

...which seemed to open everything out for her.

https://livingchange.s3.us-east-1.amazonaws.com/episode47.mp3

Shock in the background

I've been mulling over how Hexagram 51, Shock, feels as relating hexagram. After all, a relating hexagram is often the background to an answer - scene-setting, a personal theme, the chapter heading for this part of your life. How does something as abrupt as 'Shock' work here?

I've found the basic experience of 51 relating is of the ground falling away under my feet. Of course - as with any hexagram in any position - this can happen on different scales. It could be a complete existential collapse, or something narrow and specific, like technology not behaving as expected. Only the basic 'shape' of things is consistent: what you imagined this all rested on isn't really there. Your next step might be onto solid ground, or then again it might not.

(It's worth remembering that Shock means not only thunder but also earthquake.)

The Oracle of Hexagram 51 paints a very vivid emotional picture:

'Shock, creating success.
Shock comes, fear and terror.
Laughing words, shrieking and yelling.
Shock spreads fear for a hundred miles.
Someone does not lose the sacred ladle and libation.'

I think this falls into two parts: the fear and terror, shrieking and yelling, spreading ripples of panic on the one hand; the one who does not lose the sacred ladle and libation, on the other. So you're both in the centre of the panic, and also - perhaps - you could be the one who holds to enduring truth and isn't infected by the prevailing headless-chicken-itis. Can you be in the midst of the upheaval without losing touch with the essential?

Single lines changing to 51

Six hexagrams are just one line away from Hexagram 51...

Hexagram 16, line 1

'Enthusiasm calling out,
Pitfall.'

How does Enthusiasm work with Shock? Not well, apparently. From the readings I've seen, this 'calling out' tends to be a reaction to shock or insecurity - more headless chicken, not much sacred ladle. The calling out comes without considering the whole picture, or without full understanding; sometimes this is just loud self-expression without listening. (Shock can follow, too, when reality catches up!)

There are also a few readings where I think Yi was using this line to criticise an unconsidered question, especially one that neglected the querent's own agency.

Hexagram 54, line 2

‘With one eye, can see.
A hermit's constancy bears fruit.’

This one seems (also from experience) to be most about the aftermath of shock, and often more gradual subsidence than outright earthquake. What would the marrrying maiden's shock be? Surely having it fully sink in that her standing is not what she might have thought it would be - or your position in this relationship is not what you expected. (I've had it a couple of times when I was expecting to be given credit and status for work, and instead saw it erased. Very bad for the ego!)

But this is a second line, in the inner centre - unlike line 1, which is more likely to be an unmediated/instinctive reaction. There's the possibility here to continue on your own way, by your own lights, and not be disrupted. I think the hermit is a close cousin of the priest who doesn't lose the ladle.

Seeing with one eye, you're not completely unaware - though you can't see everything; the hermit up his mountain isn't aware of everything going on in the valley. (And that could be a useful reflection in itself...) But you can see enough to go on your way, self-possessed, internally rather than externally motivated.

Hexagram 55, line 3

'Feng is flooded with darkness
At midday, seeing a froth of light.
Your right arm broken,
Not a mistake.'

The readings I've seen with this one provide good examples of the variety of scale in readings: from a website going down to a loss of sanity. What follows is confusion, disorientation, bewilderment: Shock striking in the midst of Abundance, at Feng, where there is a lot going on. Here you are in the middle of it all, and incapacitated: unable to do anything about it at all. And apparently this is no bad thing - which makes sense if you remember 16.1. Inaction has to be better than a blind, kneejerk reaction.

The example the Sorrells give for this line in their I Ching Made Simple is of getting into financial trading and finding themselves 'in over our heads'. That's a good choice of language, as there's actually a lot of water imagery here: Feng is darkened, but with a word that also means heavy rainfall; at midday you see dimly, but with a word that also means foam; both characters contain the radical for 'water'. And the name of Hexagram 51 itself includes 'rain'.

Hexagram 24, line 4

‘Walking in the centre, returning alone.’

The Shock isn't evident in the moving line text here, but it's clear enough in reading experience. People are often dealing with disquiet in the aftermath of shock - such as finding yourself unemployed. As Mousse wrote in Shared Readings, "For months, I've been totally lost and unsure about what to do with my life." That seems to sum it up well.

Walking in the centre - with two broken lines one each side of it - this line is in a resonant relationship with 24's solid first line, and so it need not 'follow the crowd'. Instead, there's a process of waking up to your own inner voice, as life is gradually brought back into good order - like the Image of Hexagram 51:

'Rolling thunder. Shock.
A noble one in fear and dread sets things in order and is watchful.'

Hexagram 17, line 5

'True and confident in excellence.
Good fortune.'

Again, there's no Shock apparent in the line itself, but plenty in experience. At line 5, it shows up differently - often as the recurrent disturbance that makes it harder to stay on track. (The I Ching Community archives have two readings with this line for people who were focused on staying sober, and two for people trying to follow a creative path.)

The world at large is not designed to be helpful: you need to keep your own grip on the ladle, holding fast to your own self-respect. The word for 'excellence' has two components: a phonetic element meaning 'place on, confer on, add to' and a drum - which makes me wonder whether I should be hearing the |:: |:: of Hexagram 51 as the drumbeat.

Hexagram 21, line 6

Looking back through the 'story so far'...

16.1 seems disconnected from the real world, calling out without listening; 54.2 has limited insight but retains self-direction; 55.3 is similarly limited, but without mistake - maybe even because it can't act. 24.4 walks in the midst of it all but rediscovers its own way, and 17.5 holds fast to what is praiseworthy no matter what.

The pattern that emerges for me is of being in the middle of the action, but still going your own way - internally, not externally motivated, despite everything that's going on around you. It's that basic 'shape' of Hexagram 51: spreading panic and someone not losing the ladle - except that your own way is not always necessarily the best idea. 21.6, for instance...

'Shouldering a cangue so your ears disappear.
Pitfall.'

... takes that theme of being internally, not externally motivated to the wrong extreme when it stops listening.

Punishment, in Hexagram 21, isn't supposed to be a shock: it's meant to be understood. That's why the ancient kings brought light to punishments, why inner thunder translates into outer light. Only this can't happen if you can't listen, as often seems to be the case with this line. (My most recent journal entry for 21.6 describes it as a moment of being 'punch drunk', unable to take more in - and sure enough, disastrously missing the point.)

Reflections and examples

So here's 51 relating: coping with insecurity, with uncertainty, and trying to find self-determination anyway. 'Coping with uncertainty' might sound like relating hexagram 4 - Not Knowing - or 29 - Repeating Chasms, and there are some similarities.

Hexagram 4 also isn't certain and would really like to be - but it doesn't have 51's deep insecurity, and it does have a place to stand and a way to find out (if not as much or as fast as it would like). With 51 relating, that feeling of having no solid ground underfoot can be overwhelming.

Hexagram 29 is also floundering in the emotional depths, but it's more in the dark than 51. With 51 going on, you probably know exactly where you are (unemployed, or homeless, or dealing with someone emotionally volatile) - you just have no idea what might happen next.

Hexagram 2 changing to 51 shows this very simply and directly:

'Treading on frost,
Hard ice is arriving.'
'Tied up in a bag.
No blame, no praise.'

The signs of the times are clear and immediate, crunching underfoot; the contents of the bag are unknowable.

Of course, if understanding it all now is vital, you're in trouble - as in 21.6, and also as in 62.1.3 to 51:

'Bird in flight means a pitfall.'
'Not going past, he defends himself.
Someone following may strike him down.
Pitfall.'

Small exceeding demands that you meet the reality: listen to the bird, get the message. This doesn't easily happen in a state of Shock, and so you end up both with 51's panic (line 1) and missing the essential / losing the ladle (line 3). Being in the midst of it 62 without complete connection doesn't go well.

(I received this one many years ago when asking about recurrent episodes of gastric upset - which had me thoroughly 51-d as I've always been ridiculously healthy. I was flapping about, following pet theories, cutting back on wheat and sugar - and only realised much later, after a bout that laid me out for a week, that this was actually food poisoning from raw milk.)

Overall, 51 relating seems to mean a fine balancing act is required between awareness of present reality and truth to one's own path. Take 49.3.5 to 51 -

'Setting out to bring order means a pitfall,
Constancy means danger.
As words of radical change draw near three times,
There is truth and confidence.'
'Great person transforms like a tiger.
Even before the augury, there is truth and confidence.'

Line 3 needs time to create connection and confidence with others; line 5 has a tiger's utterly independent truth and confidence.

This also shows up in line texts as discussion of constancy - see for instance 35.1.6 and 34.2.3, with constancy in different circumstances or with different strategies (nets vs horns!) means different results. Marching (49.3) or charging (35.6, 34.3) ahead regardless through the earthquake zone could be a bad idea - but then so is running aimlessly about trying to dodge the falling masonry.

(Other two-line changes leading to 51, in case you'd like to explore: 40.1.2, 45.1.5, 19.2.4, 58.2.5, 38.2.6, 36.2.4, 22.3.6 and 3.4.5.)

I Ching Community discussion

I've written before about Yi's kindness, but it's something I keep rediscovering.

There's the gentleness of its responses to people in crisis - all degrees of crisis, without judgement. One of my own favourite readings comes from a moment when I suddenly felt I'd experienced the final straw, had nothing left and couldn't cope. I sat on the floor and said, 'Help!'

Yi responded with Hexagram 48, the Well:

'The Well. Moving the city, not moving the well.
Without loss, without gain,
They come and go, the well wells.
Almost drawn the water, but the rope does not quite reach the water,
Or breaking one's clay jug,
Pitfall.'

The Well is still flowing, in all your comings and goings it hasn't gone anywhere, so...

There's another reading that comes down to 'How can I cope?' or just 'Help!' on the 'Aha!' answers thread at the I Ching Community: itsyourlife asked, 'How do I do today?' and cast Hexagram 57 unchanging - Gently Penetrating. She wrote,

"That made me literally break down and I cried for like 10 seconds, composed myself and went on about my business gently. I finished earlier than expected and with ease. Breezy!"

How to do it? Gently. And that's another of Yi's one-hexagram answers - I find Yi often uses unchanging hexagrams when I'm overwhelmed and incapable of taking in anything more complicated. (One more example from the 'Aha!' thread: help with a mental health crisis, Hexagram 14 unchanging.)

Only Yi, being Yi, does not always stop at comfort. There's reassurance, the indescribable sense of being seen - and then there's also the kindness of unstinting honesty, and readings that turn out to be as much question as answer.

Actually, my much-loved Hexagram 48 answer is one of those. The Well is still flowing, in all your comings and goings it hasn't gone anywhere, so... why do you feel as though you have nothing left? What's going on with your rope and bucket?

Kafuka had a similar Hexagram 48 experience, though with the presence of mind to form a question beyond 'Help!': "I asked what could I do to stop having those "I'd better be dead" thoughts and got 48.4>28". Line your well!

I experienced this fierce kindness again a little while ago, when I had - laughably - been trying to be tactful, and ended up saying something appallingly insulting and hurtful. That's the short version: I've told the whole, sorry story in WikiWing.

In a complete emotional tailspin immediately afterwards, I asked Yi how to cope with my own crashing rudeness, and cast Hexagram 44 with the 6th line changing:

'Coupling with your horns.
Shame.
Not a mistake.'

There's the kindness of being seen - I had, exactly, gone in with horns lowered, which of course meant I couldn't see where I was going, and caused unintended injury. 'Shame' - well, yes. And then there was comfort: 'No mistake' - no, all the catastrophic consequences I was imagining were not real. The person I'd injured had already, with vast kindness, told me I was forgiven.

So in the moment, this reading let me breathe again and start to return to something like stability. But looking back on it now, and remembering other times I've received Hexagram 44, I've started asking bigger questions, like 'Who/ what is that powerful, unmarriageable woman?'

I think I recognise her in the inner impulse that tells me I really have to step up and do/ say something - 44 is the pair of 43, after all - but at a moment when there is no good way to do/say it, as there is nowhere it can be received, no king's chamber to speak in: this woman is not to be married. (With a different line active - 44.5, perhaps - there might be a way.)

And the deeper kindness of this, the one that emerges as I reflect on a series of readings over the course of years, is that now I recognise what that obligation-impulse feels like, and I get the chance to learn something, maybe. Perhaps, if I remember these readings at the critical moment, I might even avoid some horns-first blunders in future.

(There are countless examples of kind, blunt, honest, eye-opening readings in the 'Aha!' answers thread - I can recommend it.)

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