You know how the lines of some hexagrams unfold and tell a story? Hexagram 53 traces the journey of the wild geese; 1 follows the dragon's journey across the skies; 48 describes well-repair.

Well... I'm wondering whether something similar might not be happening in Hexagram 51. The name of the hexagram, Shock, means both a thunderclap and an earthquake, and there are a couple of good reasons for thinking of it as an earthquake. Firstly because it 'spreads fear for 100 li', about 30 miles - which could just be a round number used with poetic licence, but could also mean this is an earthquake, not a thunderstorm - and secondly because it's hard for us nowadays to imagine a thunderstorm as something that would really shake us. And I think Hexagram 51's lines are telling the story of how we undergo and respond to Shock.

Think of earthquakes for a moment, and travel through the lines of Hexagram 51:

'Shake comes, fear and terror.
Then afterwards, laughing words, shrieking and yelling.
Good fortune'

'Shock comes, danger.
A hundred thousand coins lost
Climb the nine hills,
Don't give chase.
On the seventh day, gain.'

'Shock revives, revives.
Shock moves without blunder.'

'Shock, and then a bog.'

'Shake goes and comes.
Danger.
Intention is not lost - there are things to do.'

'Shock twists and turns,
Watching in fear and terror,
Setting out to bring order: pitfall.
The shock does not reach your self,
It reaches your neighbour -
No mistake.
There are words of marital alliance.'

Hexagram 51, lines 1-6

Starting at line 1...

'Shake comes, fear and terror.
Then afterwards, laughing words, shrieking and yelling.
Good fortune'

51.1

We're frightened first. That's what gets us moving, yelling to our neighbours, rousing the village, doing something about it. (This line changes to 16, which is very good at making a noise and galvanising people.)

'Shock comes, danger.
A hundred thousand coins lost
Climb the nine hills,
Don't give chase.
On the seventh day, gain.'

51.2

The danger of collapsing buildings, next, and physical losses. We need to get out of the village and climb to higher ground, and not dawdle to look for our lost property. (Changing to 54, because we are really not in the driving seat.)

'Shock revives, revives.
Shock moves without blunder.'

51.3

Adrenaline flows, we come alive, and are suddenly more clear-eyed (the inner trigram is changing to li) and sure-footed. We fight off lions, or remember CPR - we can draw on whatever reserves we have. (The hexagram change is to 55, with the king at the centre, taking it on.) This will carry us through the immediate emergency.

And then we move on to the outer trigram, the second 'Shock'. These lines seem different to me: more to do with the aftermath and the longer term.

'Shock, and then a bog.'

51.4

The conjunction in this fourth line, the 'and then', means 'what follows,' 'thereupon' and 'complying with'. I think it might be laying emphasis on a close, causal link between shock and the mud that follows. And it's not just rainstorms that create mud: earthquakes trigger mudslides, and they can also be followed - a few hours or a few days later - by the eruption of mud volcanoes, seething with noxious gases. The first shock is over; now the wheel keeps turning, and the shock comes back to haunt us.

I've just been reviewing a lot of readings with this line, and found they very often describe a post-traumatic experience, with someone stuck in an emotional morass. Like the other 'mud' lines, there's nothing so solid here as advice or a prediction; it just is what it is.

'Shake goes and comes.
Danger.
Intention is not lost - there are things to do.'

51.5

Aftershocks? Perhaps. Or perhaps just the predictable unpredictability of things. We don't know what'll come next, but we know something will - there's no such thing as an uninterrupted 'normal'. (This one changes to 17, Following, a reminder of the ceaseless flow of change.) Hold onto your intention; don't drop that ladle.

'Shock twists and turns,
Watching in fear and terror,
Setting out to bring order: pitfall.
The shock does not reach your self,
It reaches your neighbour -
No mistake.
There are words of marital alliance.'

51.6

It's not completely clear what the shock does here: twists, twines, squeezes, demands? The character, 索, contains the 'silk thread' component and Richard Sears says it originally meant 'rope'. Perhaps it entangles and constricts, perhaps it binds.

I think this line is watching, from its higher, sixth-place perspective, the way shocks recur over time, fearing what's to come, and wondering how to come to grips with the problem.

This line changes to 21, Biting Through - tackling a problem, and also creating an effective union. You can't fix future earthquakes with military expeditions ('setting out to bring order'), but how about forming an alliance for mutual help with someone at least 101 li away?

I learned this morning that Bradford Hatcher has died. The Yijing world has lost a treasure, and many of us have lost a good friend.

Brad was ridiculously generous with his knowledge. His epic, two-volume Yijing is available from his site, for free. (He's made arrangements to ensure it'll stay that way.) It's a superb work - including a character-by-character translation to let non-Chinese scholars get a glimpse of the original, a poetic translation, an 'introduction' with more meat in it than most books, and unique, original commentary. That commentary comes with an acute awareness of Yi's internal relationships (he coined the term fan yao) and, especially, of its native humour. It's an extraordinary gift to us all.

When visiting hermetica.info for the Yijing book, pause and look around to appreciate the breadth of its author's intelligence, which was intimidating, and his experience, which meant he was one of the few Yijing scholars who could write his commentaries about wells, cows and goats on the basis of personal knowledge of wells, cows and goats.

On a personal level, I know Brad was also generous with his time. A regular at Clarity's I Ching Community for many years, he also helped me a great deal with my book in 2010, both with practical feedback on translation, commentary and nuance (as I emailed him each hexagram in turn), and with steady encouragement.

We met once, thanks to LiSe, a few years ago in the Netherlands, where I discovered that he also gave very good hugs.

When I heard this morning that he'd died, I looked at the books closest to me on my desk as I work:

And finally - let me give Yi the last word. I just picked up the beads and asked the oracle to talk to me about Brad. Yi gives Hexagram 50, the Vessel, changing at line 6 to 32, Lasting:

A cauldron with a jade grip
Very promising
Nothing cannot be turned to advantage
50.6x A jade grip across the top:
The firm (and) the flexible (are) in due proportion

The cauldron has a carrying ring fashioned from a fine piece of jade. Sensibility and sensitivity find common ground in a stylish understatement. A pleasant and useful presence will combine the best of both worlds. This cauldron will not be abused or ignored, or carried by random people to random places, or hung up on rusty nails. Respect can be a part of design. It’s the thing that will make people say: They don’t make them like they used to. It’s the classical, timeless elements that will set it above all the fashions and trends, those things which are not made to last. So too with the sage and his teachings: he may lean more than a little towards the things we have handed down, and less towards the latest trends that have the new age so excited. He still wants the new, it’s still about changes, but he wants to use finer ingredients.

50.6, from Bradford Hatcher, The Book of Changes: Yijing, Word by Word, Volume 1.

It's one thing to consult the Yijing; finding the confidence to act on what it says is something else. (What if I've got this wrong?) Yet readings without this, without change, are theoretical at best, and at worst... maybe something more serious than a mere waste of time. We need to recognise the reading's authority - but where does that come from?

On to the final line of my 37 - 46 reading:

'With truth and confidence like authority. In the end, good fortune.'

Hexagram 37, line 6

'Truth and confidence'?

The Chinese word here is 孚, fu - as in the name of Hexagram 61, Inner Truth. Here's an excerpt from its entry in the Language of Change glossary:

"Fu can sometimes (11.3, 44.1) mean simply ‘what is true’ or ‘the true nature of this’. But more often, it means the quality of trust and being true which opens channels and creates an interface – a way or place of connection. Relationships of all kinds happen through fu; it’s the prerequisite for both inner and outer communication. In the Songs, it unites the king with heaven’s mandate, and unites the people with the king."

Language of Change

In this line, I think fu is the quality of trust and truth that creates confidence in family relationships - like the confidence you might have in a wise grandparent.

'Authority'?

This is wei, 威 - also translated nowadays as might, power and force. In the Book of Songs, it seems to be especially about the manifestation of power. A wei appearance or bearing is a dignified one, suited to a solemn ceremony; affiliction-wei is the terrible might of Heaven when it demonstrates its power through famine and disaster. So we can imagine that when truth is 'like wei', it's a manifest power in itself.

We can also get more of a feel for this line by comparison with Hexagram 14, line 5, which is quite similar:

厥孚交如。威如吉。
'Your truth interacts, strikes awe
Good fortune.'

Hexagram 14 line 5

Literally, your truth is like interaction, like authority (威如).

And here's 37.6:

有孚威如。終吉
'With truth and confidence like authority.
In the end, good fortune.'

37.6

Ru, 如, is tricky, but I believe both lines are describing how truth can act as authority. Bradford Hatcher translate ru in 37.5 as 'as good as': 'Being true is as good as impressive.'

And in readings...

So... this is where a reading's authority comes from: from fu, the trust and truth that creates your relationship with the oracle.

That means it isn't something you reason out, or something you talk yourself into, and above all it is not anything anyone else tells you. It's what arises when you hear the reading speaking directly to you: you know it when you feel it.

(Or when interpreting for other people, I know it when I hear it: people gasp, they get goosebumps, burst out laughing or go very quiet - and I have learned to go quiet then, too, because this is the reading happening and I don't want to get in its way.)

The commentary on the line (xiaoxiang) points in the same direction:

'Majestic-like, this is good fortune and means a turning-back to the self.'

37.6, xiaoxiang - Wu Jing Nuan's translation

Truth that works as authority - it has to come from the self.

This is why there is no such thing as being 'too subjective' or too personally involved to understand a reading. It's also why, when you have an immediate intuitive response to a reading, this is not something you need to check with an expert in case you've got it wrong: it's the answer.

'In the end'?

'With truth and confidence like authority. In the end, good fortune.'

Why is there good fortune 'in the end'; why not right away?

I think it's because this line, though it's the end of the hexagram, is only the beginning of the world beyond the home. 'Wind comes forth originally from fire,' says the Image; the influence of the Home starts here, and spreads onward and outward. Truth is known, then it acts.

37.6 changes to 63, Already Across - where everything is settled and in place, and so the journey starts here. Trusting the reading is just the beginning of change.

(The story so far: I asked what to write about, and Yi's response - 37.1.2.5.6 to 46 - gave me the idea of writing about what makes for a friendly, domestic, quotidien, integrated relationship with the Oracle. I've written about lines 1 and 2; here's line 5.)

What makes for an integrated relationship with Yi? Boundaries, nourishment at the centre - and the king's presence:

'With the king's presence, there is a home.
Do not worry. Good fortune.'

Hexagram 37, line 5

This is a perfect echo of line 1: 'With barriers, there is a home.'

閑有家

xian you jia: 'barriers there-is home'

王假有家

wang jia you jia: 'king presence there-is home.'

To make a home, you need these two things: a barred door, and an authority inside. Looking at a relationship with the Oracle: there has to be someone inside who takes responsibility and makes choices - and that’s you.

This reminds me of two important things about readings...

You're in charge

First, the Yijing doesn't take any decisions. That's what humans do. The oracle will show you pictures of your options, and yes, that may make the right course of action so devastatingly obvious to you that it feels as though the decision is made for you - but it really isn't. You're still the king.

(This becomes clear when you see how different people can receive the same reading and take the opposite decision. Some people see Hexagram 46, Pushing Upward, and know in their bones they don't want to climb any more mountains, not even one step at a time. Some see Hexagram 29, Repeating Chasms, and are ready to dive into its deepest, darkest pits, trusting they'll learn to swim on the way down. And this is why there's no such thing as a 'good hexagram'.)

Decisions inside readings

And secondly, the king has to be inside the home for this to work. That is, you have to bring your decisions inside the reading relationship. Tentative, experimental, 'I wonder what it'll say?' readings - maybe with the decision already taken before casting - aren't the same. A relationship with Yi means being prepared to jettison cherished plans, or take risks when we'd really rather not. Basically, it means being willing to change your mind.

Royal visibility

One other thing - the king is naturally visible; there's no such thing as a king no-one's heard of. And this line changes to Hexagram 22, Beauty. This line's about the clear and visible sign of People in the Home: something that solemnises the relationship, in a way. Remember the Sequence from Hexagram 21, Biting Through:

'Things cannot carelessly unite and be completed, and so Beauty follows. Beauty means adorning.'

Hexagram 22, Xugua

The king in line 5 is demonstrating the solidity of the home, sending the message that you can have confidence, do not worry, he has chosen to hold this space.

I think there are ways to do this for readings, too. 'Carelessly uniting' with an oracle is not complete: you need some degree of formality, some clear sign - if only to yourself - of what this is.

As you may know, I'm no great enthusiast for elaborate ceremony around readings, but I do believe in whatever enhances awareness and focus for you. For me, this means keeping a journal and writing down my intent for each reading. The reading itself can be quick and chatty, but I still want this visible reminder of what I'm doing when I divine.

'Do not worry'

You can also look further into Hexagram 22 to understand why Yi advises us, here, not to worry. The king's presence should banish worry, that much seems clear, but why does it need mentioning? Where might the worry come from?

The fan yao - reverse line, the one changing back from 22 to 37 - often answers this kind of question about a line's emotional context. Here's 22.5:

'Beauty in a hilltop garden.
A roll of silk: small, so small.
Shame.
In the end, good fortune.'

'Beauty in a hilltop garden.
A roll of silk: small, so small.
Shame.
In the end, good fortune.'

Hexagram 22, line 5

Here's a suitor who wants to create a home, but worries about the inadequacy of his own contribution. Or... here's someone who wants the Yi to be part of their life and their decision-making, but I'm not an expert, and what if I'm doing it all wrong? Don't worry, says 37.5: you are present in the reading, and that makes it real. (I think line 6 has more to say about that - coming in the next post.)

The second line of Hexagram 37 (and the second thing Yi suggested I write about) says,

'No direction to pursue,
Stay in the centre and cook.
Constancy, good fortune.'

Hexagram 37, line 2

This line places us, and our readings, firmly at the foundations of Maslow's pyramid:

There's no call to charge off and explore the world; just stay home and put the rice on to boil. In other words, it is OK to ask about the ordinary, everyday stuff of just getting by.

Changing this line points to Hexagram 9, Small Taming: a hexagram for the small farmer waiting for better weather. It's a time when there are - often frustratingly - no openings to do big things; small work is all there is to be done. But you can do your small work in alignment with heaven's purposes: hoe the next row, chop the onions, and ask small questions about today's small concerns. You don't need grand plans and broad visions to talk with Yi.

That may be counter-intuitive: this is a vast, splendid oracle, so isn't it meant for the big questions? 'Who am I?' 'What is my calling?' 'What are my gifts?' 'How can I serve the world?'?

And it's true, it is for these questions - and for the everyday. People need limitless explorations, and they also need to be fed; Yi responds to our needs.

I'm fond of saying that each reading needs a clear intention behind it. (What will change as a result of this reading?) Only… that intention could be to decide whether to spend $30, or to find a way to have a better conversation, or to get through the next 24 hours in one piece. If your immediate intention is to decide which phone to buy, then that can be your next reading.

At the heart of these ordinary, domestic readings, there's a rare gift: they can tap into deep wells of meaning.

To access this potential, you need to avoid getting stuck in an endless cycle of, 'What about option a?' 'What about option b?' readings. I've found that those can become quite arid. They might just stop speaking to you, as the feeling of connection to an oracle dries up. Or they might still make sense, be useful, but nonetheless feel empty and dry, like the husks of real readings.

What works better for me is to take half a step back and ask a broader question. Maybe…

• What's a guiding principle for buying a phone?
• What would I really be doing, if I signed up to this?
• What to remember during today's meetings?

This creates an opening to deeper meaning, allowing the everyday stuff to become more nourishing.

It's interesting to look at the paired line of 37.2 - that is, the same line, seen from the opposite angle when you invert the hexagram -

'No direction to pursue,
Stay in the centre and cook.
Constancy, good fortune.'

37.2

'Regrets vanish.
Your ancestor bites through the skin.
Why would going on be wrong?'

38.5

Paired lines can tell a story. Here, it seems the membrane between worlds, between mundane and profound, small and great, is no match for the ancestor's teeth. Cook at the centre, and perhaps he may come in to your table.

A while ago - as participants in our weekly Well Gatherings will know - I asked Yi what to write about on this blog, and received Hexagram 37, People in the Home, changing at lines 1, 2, 5 and 6 to 46, Pushing Upward. It's a rich reading that works on a lot of layers, and one of those is the idea of writing about how we create a 'family' relationship with Yi - bringing it inside the home, letting it become 'part of the furniture' of everyday life.

So here are some thoughts prompted by line 1:

Setting boundaries to create a home

'With barriers, there is a home. Regrets vanish.'

Hexagram 37, line 1

Barriers create a home. The Chinese word for 'barriers', xian, shows wood between two doors, suggesting that you're barring the entry. It's a very simple concept: a home has an inside and an outside, created by the barrier between them.

This reminds me of the importance of setting boundaries for your readings - drawing a line around them, knowing what belongs inside and what doesn't. Within that boundary, you can be at home. As LiSe puts it, 'Whatever happens, you will never be lost in a big hostile world.'

Any regrets, I think, would be about all the things you left outside. There can be lots of second-guessing around this, 'fear of missing out', or just a faintly guilty worry that perhaps you should be asking about something else - maybe something bigger. But within the home space you've created, this will pass.

Bradford Hatcher's comments on this line are worth reading:

'This might seem to ignore several sources of warmth, to lack in affection, or to curb spontaneous feeling. There are mistakes and regrets. But this gives each household member a firm patch of ground to stand on, and much can be done on a patch of firm ground. Even an unlimited branch must pick a direction to grow in. Rules are only a place to begin.'

Bradford Hatcher, Book of Changes

I especially appreciate that last point - rules are only a place to begin. For that reason, I reckon it's a good idea to revisit one's reading rules - at least those that are more like habits - from time to time. After all, the nuclear hexagram of 37 is 64, Not Yet Across. The Home, at its heart, is always being rebuilt.

What kind of barriers, or boundaries, or rules?

In other words... when do you consult, and why and how, and what will or won't you ask about? This is a personal question, so all I can do is tell you about the barriers that safeguard my own relationship with Yi.

• I try only to cast readings that will make a difference for me. (Unless, that is, I'm just playing .)
• I don't ask 'mind-reading' questions unless they're in support of an existing relationship, and I'm as sure as I can be that the other person would want me to know.

(And then I have rules about what I will and won't get involved in when reading for others - but that's a different issue, outside the Home.)

Really, these barriers draw a circle around what's my business, making a home for readings. Some readings, like questions about politics or global issues, naturally fall on the outside. Not that there's anything wrong (in my book) with those readings on the outside - done out of sheer curiosity, hoping to learn something about Yi in the process. It's just that, for the most part, I live on the inside.

Here are the last half-dozen readings in my journal -

• What needs doing?
• What about trying oils?
• What if I buy x?
• How to deal with exhaustion and demotivation?
• Prognosis? [asking about a family member in hospital]
• How can I be supportive now?

The 'prognosis' reading was outside my usual walls. After all, even if I knew beyond any doubt exactly what was going to happen (which is not how this works...), what difference would it make now? None that I can see.

And as it turns out, this reading was the least helpful of the lot: it simply showed me the risks, factors and possibilities I already knew about. So I had second thoughts, went back inside my four walls with Yi, and asked how to be supportive. That helped.