For some 3,000 years, people have turned to the I Ching, the Book of Changes, to help them uncover the meaning of their experience, to bring their actions into harmony with their underlying purpose, and above all to build a foundation of confident awareness for their choices.
Down the millennia, as the I Ching tradition has grown richer and deeper, the things we consult about may have changed a little, but the moment of consultation is much the same. These are the times when you’re turning in circles, hemmed in and frustrated by all the things you can’t see or don’t understand. You can think it over (and over, and over); you can ‘journal’ it; you can gather opinions.
But how can you have confidence in choosing a way to go, if you can’t quite be sure of seeing where you are?
Only understand where you are now, and you rediscover your power to make changes. This is the heart of I Ching divination. Once you can truly see into the present moment, all its possibilities open out before you – and you are free to create your future.
What is the I Ching?
The I Ching (or Yijing) is an oracle book: it speaks to you. You can call on its help with any question you have: issues with relationships of all kinds, ways to attain your personal goals, the outcomes of different choices for a key decision. It grounds you in present reality, encourages you to grow, and nurtures your self-knowledge. When things aren’t working, it opens up a space for you to get ‘off the ride’, out of the rut, and choose your own direction. And above all, it’s a wide-open, free-flowing channel for truth.
For I Ching Beginners -
How do you want to get started?
There are two different ways most people first meet the I Ching. There’s,
‘I’m fascinated by this ancient book and I want to learn all about it,’
‘I need help now with this thing (so I’ll learn whatever I need to know to get help with The Thing).’
Learning about the I Ching, or learning from the I Ching?
In the end, these two ways aren’t actually different. It isn’t possible to do one without the other, and people end up wanting both: the ‘learn about Yi’ people draw on its help more as their knowledge grows; the ‘learn from Yi’ people find they want to know more, once they’ve got the help they need.
I hope you enjoy the site and find what you’re looking for here - do contact me with any comments or questions.
Clarity is my one-woman business providing I Ching courses, readings and community. (You can read more about me, and what I do, here.) It lets me spend my time doing the work I love, using my gifts to help you.
Warm wishes, Hilary”
From the blog
Thunderbolt and earthquake
The name of Hexagram 51, zhen 震, means Shock, Quake, and encompasses both thunder and earthquake. (Nowadays there is a specific word for earthquake made of the components ‘earth’ and ‘zhen’.) The old character has two components: rain, and chen, the name of the fifth Earthly Branch in the Chinese calendar – which also means a plough, something that breaks open the earth.
Thunder, for the ancient Chinese, was not just the harmless noise created by lightning: it was the tangible action of a lightning strike, a thunderbolt, which was Heaven’s instrument.
Thunder means you must be alert, because Heaven’s laws are in motion. In the Liji, the Book of Rites, it’s said that if there is thunder, strong wind or violent rain, even in the night, the gentleman ‘must change’ his attitude and expression: he will ‘get up, dress himself, put on his cap and take his seat.’
Also, at Spring equinox when thunder is about to speak, people are warned to be careful of their behaviour to avert calamity. (It even says a bell would be sounded 3 days before the thunder, to give people advance notice…) This was also a time to correct all weights and measures.
So if we think of Hexagram 51 as ‘Thunder’, we need to be a little less rational, a little more awestruck. And, of course, we can also think of earthquakes.
The Oracle says,
‘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.’
For me, this has always evoked a vivid scene: crowds, cries of panic, hysteria, people running in circles like headless chickens. The space is filled with emotional noise, leaving not much space for reason.
Then in October 2008, the year of the financial crisis, I asked Yi a wide-open question: ‘What do we need to understand about money? Tell us one thing we need to know about it.’ I received Hexagram 51 with no changing lines. That gave me a new, crystal-clear image of 51’s emotional din: the then-familiar scenes of panic and tumult on the stock market floor.
Hexagram 51 is a shock to the system, a wake-up call. Often – as in 2008 – it’s the shock of learning that what you always assumed was real, is not. Mental edifices shatter; the ground gives way beneath you.
51 is the exact opposite of 57, Subtly Penetrating – the hexagram of wind and roots. There, change comes subtly, gradually; it’s something you get to know from the inside. This is exactly not like that: change strikes as if out of nowhere.
In many readings, this is talking directly about a specific, recent shock, whose effects you’re still feeling. It also describes any situation where your emotions are stirred up – ‘fear and terror’, ‘shrieking and yelling’ – and liable to run the show altogether. In my own journal, I’ve found two readings in the past year with 51 describing the ‘Fear Of Missing Out’ evoked by a deadline: ‘Buy this now, before it goes away forever!’ I seem to be ridiculously susceptible to those. Maybe a good summary of Hexagram 51 in such cases is, ‘Triggered!’
As relating hexagram
As relating hexagram, 51 may be less direct. Here, say these readings, is how that primary hexagram is shocking and unsettling. It’s describing an underlying insecurity, as for instance when you’re afraid of triggering someone else’s anger. The ground doesn’t feel quite firm under your feet.
When 51’s the relating hexagram, I found (from a ‘cast history’ search of my journal) that the swirl of emotions involved isn’t my primary focus; the Shock’s often more past or future than present, and I may not even be fully conscious of it. (There’s one entry, describing the aftermath of someone’s rejection of a small group of friends, where I solemnly describe how the other people affected are upset and angry, but of course I’m not. Right.)
Not losing the ladle
Of course, Hexagram 51 doesn’t only evoke a scene of panic: there is also someone who ‘does not lose the ladle and libation.’ The essence of the paired hexagram, 52, Stilling, is already here in seed form: staying quiet, holding still; keeping a firm grasp on what matters.
However, Hexagram 51 is also specifically not Hexagram 52. The Zagua sums it up:
‘Shock begins. Stilling stops.’
Stilling is a time to resist the shock, stand firm, refuse to be moved… and Shock isn’t. Its energy gets things moving. (When there are lines changing in 51, you can often see how its energy flows into the relating hexagram and sets that in motion.)
Holding onto the ladle is not something you do despite the storm / earthquake – it’s not that you’re withstanding the shock, more that you’re connecting with it. Thunder is the voice of Heaven; the shock itself is sacred. Not losing the ladle means not relinquishing your connection with the sacred power that speaks through the storms. That connection – the human way of responding to the spiritual energies in the world – is renewed and revitalised.
Don’t go back to sleep
When you receive Hexagram 51, you’re going to try to avoid joining the headless chickens – but that doesn’t mean you should ignore the emotional turmoil, refuse to be sidetracked and carry on as normal. The fear Shock evokes is typically quite justified, and you can put it to good use – like the noble one of the Image:
‘Rolling thunder. Shock. A noble one in fear and dread sets things in order and is watchful.’
Now is a good time to wake up. ‘Don’t go back to sleep,‘ said Rumi. This is how you keep your grip on the ladle, not by blocking it all out.
Hexagram 51 is formed of the trigram zhen doubled, and gives its name to the trigram. (At least, it’s probably that way round.) So this is rolling, repeated thunder: successive waves of shocks. (In this article by Charles E Hammond, you can read several stories that show how thunder persisting in one place signifies Heaven’s intent to deal with something there.)
Imagining the two trigrams as pictures of your inner and outer worlds, you see how they’re in sync: it’s right to be inwardly shaken by outward shocks.
The Shadow of 51 – exactly how not to conceive of it – is Hexagram 14, Great Possession. Yes, in a time of Shock you can have a firm grasp on the sacred; you can even know for sure that nothing vital is lost – but this ‘possessing’ should not be your focus. In the Image of 14, the noble one can ‘yield to Heaven and rest in her mandate;’ there’s a sense that ‘God’s in His heaven, all’s right with the world.’ Shock is not like that. This is no time to relax.
Indeed, the nuclear hexagram of 51 is Hexagram 39, Limping. So Shock is one expression of the core truth of Limping: that life is hard, the Mandate of Heaven makes heavy demands, and you may need to turn yourself around entirely and change everything. Wake up, says Shock, and set things right.
‘In the family of trigrams, thunder is the first son of heaven and earth, entrusted with the sacred vessel. As the old is overthrown and the new embraced, he stands at the gates and opens them to the new time. This brings both the emotional experience of shock, and also the awareness of a sacred connection that continues and is renewed through upheaval.’
The Tuanzhuan, commentary on the Oracle, elaborates on the same theme:
‘He who comes forth to protect the ancestral shrine and the altar of the spirits of soil and grain becomes the president of the sacrifices.’
This is part of a bigger story evoked by this segment of the Sequence of Hexagrams. The Shang dynasty had become corrupt: offerings were neglected; the relationship to the spirits was damaged. The Zhou people ousted the old regime (echoes of Hexagram 49, Radical Change) and replaced them with a new state (echoes of Hexagram 50, the Vessel).
Hexagram 51 evokes the truly spectacular upheaval of this change – but it’s not just a matter of upheaval; more importantly, it’s the continuation and renewal of the relationship between people and spirits. Moreover, it’s not just a matter of replacing the corrupt old regime with a realigned new one: Wu, the new Zhou king, had both Zhou and Shang roots, which meant he could make offerings to both Zhou and Shang ancestors. In a sense, this is also restoration.
In readings now, this is still one of Yi’s most direct, relatable images. These are not the end times; the sacred connection is renewed, and life will go on. Amidst the panic, how can you hold the ladle so securely that nothing is spilled?
I’ve had some questions about the Paired Hexagrams Course. Rather than just talking about it, I thought it would be better to show you some of it – so here’s the introductory lesson.
It simply runs through the three kinds of pair, so you can see clearly what they are and how they differ. Then the subsequent lessons describe each kind of pair in turn: how the hexagrams are related, what this means for readings, what questions to ask yourself to engage with them in practice. I also added an example reading for each type, which should give you more of a feel for how this works.
This preview is just for Clarity members
…so you will need to log in to your account to see it!
If you’re already a member, use the ‘log in’ link in the top right-hand corner of this page, and the lesson will magically appear in place of this message 😉 .
If you’re not yet a member, please do join here: it’s free, and gives you access to participate in the I Ching Community and access a nice assortment of I Ching pdfs – and when you return to this post as a logged-in user, you’ll see the preview lesson here.
Marriage is one of the Yijing’s most-used recurring images – and in relationship readings, it’s one of the easiest to relate to. Hexagram 54, the Marrying Maiden, has told a lot of women, quite straightforwardly, that she’s not the most important thing to him. (Maybe another woman is, or maybe it’s his career, or any of six other things – but not you.) Hexagram 44, Coupling, has indeed been known to warn men away from women who could wreck their home or ruin their peace.
Beyond ‘relationship readings’
However – of course – marriage imagery isn’t always talking about marriage, or any kind of romantic relationship. Yi can use ‘the woman marries,’ or ‘taking a woman’ to describe any kind of relationship – with a job, for instance, or a calling, a place, a school of thought, your own body, and so on.
(And since divining with Yi has always meant trusting a random process to give you the hexagram you need, hexagrams ‘about’ marriage have always answered questions that had nothing to do with marriage.
This also means that since it was first written down, the Yi has never stopped inviting men to imagine themselves in the position of marrying women, and vice versa. If you’re ever irritated by the patriarchal framework behind a hexagram like 54, it’s worth remembering that the act of divination has been confusing these hierarchies for thousands of years.)
For full description of early Chinese marriage traditions, how they’re used as imagery in the Yijing and ways to interpret and apply them in readings, see Language of Change, my Yijing glossary. In its ‘Marriage’ chapter, I walk you through…
how marriage worked in old China and what it meant
where it appears in the Yijing
lists of example applications
…for marriage in general, and then for the woman’s marriage, including the ‘not robbers but marital allies’ vignette, and the man’s marriage.
In this post, I’d like just to compare two ‘marriage’ hexagrams, Hexagram 53, Gradual Progress, and 31, Influence. 31 speaks of ‘taking a woman’, so this is marriage from the man’s point of view; 53 is about ‘the woman marrying’, the opposite perspective.
The woman marries
‘Gradual progress. The woman marries. Good fortune. Constancy bears fruit.’
The verb ‘marrying’ here is gui, 歸 – the same word you find in the name of Hexagram 54, the Marrying Maiden. In addition to ‘marry’, it also means to return, come home to, belong with or converge towards, and even ‘take refuge’ in the Buddha. LiSe adds that ‘it is often used for dying: returning home.’
This is what marriage signified for a woman in ancient China: she would leave her childhood home and travel to live with her husband. And since for noble families, marriage was a means of forging alliances between different clans, she would have to travel a long way and leave everything familiar behind her.
You can see how this ties in with the other big, vivid image of Hexagram 53, the migratory geese. They have a long way to go, over inhospitable terrain (the barren ‘high mountains’ of lines 3 and 6), to reach their home. The new wife has a long way to go, even after her physical travels are over, to establish herself and be truly at home in this new place.
In readings, Hexagram 53 has to do with integrating deeply into a situation, ‘coming home’ into your own life. Running a ‘cast history search’ in my Resonance Journal shows me how it’s described…
someone coming to terms with and ‘settling into’ her current situation
someone gradually learning to live with a health issue (‘this is my body now, this is where I live’)
‘migrating’ (!) the website to newer technology: first the server, then WordPress, then its themes, step by slow step.
the evolution of a marriage over decades – how you’ve never finished learning the other person
how people naturally settle in with their right teacher
how Clarity grows and develops over the years
There’s a constant sense of ‘coming home into’ things – often with the feeling that you can always go deeper and always belong more fully.
Taking a woman
‘Influence, creating success. Constancy bears fruit. Taking a woman, good fortune.’
The expression ‘taking a woman’ (as in Hexagram 44) is about a man marrying. It’s completely different from the woman’s experience: the man doesn’t move house, but instead courts the woman to invite her to come to him. He will need to make space for her and welcome her in – her, and the children that will follow. His life will not be the same!
In this way, ‘taking a woman’ amounts to asking to be moved and changed by something new. Your home identity will be enriched, expanded, challenged… all of which is a risky undertaking, as you can see in Hexagram 44, and Hexagram 4 line 3, and indeed in the moving lines of 31 itself. Will the change be welcome – is the ‘Influence’ moving you to a good place?
Another ‘Cast History’ search paints a very consistent picture of ‘taking a woman’ in Hexagram 31: readings about creating space for new ideas, so they can move me and create change. Space for a new vision that takes on a life of its own… for an idea I was inclined to dismiss… for music (in several readings)… for spirit, for readings… for love and its propensity to turn your life upside down… and so on.
In Hexagram 31, ‘taking the woman’, making space for the these rich new experiences, fundamentally means good fortune; in Hexagram 44, not so much. There’s a fine line between ‘expanding’ and ‘exploding’.
Comparing nuclear hexagrams
Here’s an interesting point of comparison between Gradual Progress and Influence: the nuclear hexagram of 53 is 64, Not Yet Across, while the nuclear hexagram of 31 is 44, Coupling.
A nuclear shows ‘hexagram DNA’, the core theme and inner work of the cast hexagram. So it might give us pause for thought that 53/54, the two hexagrams about the woman marrying, have at their core 64/63, hexagrams about a great transition, and how the journey continues afterwards. The woman marrying is still integrating into her home, attending with care to each step forward into her new place – needing to be as sensitive to the nuances of relationship as that fox on the ice.
Meanwhile, the man taking a woman needs, still, to wonder how he can find space for all this and still stay in one piece. From one of my Hexagram 31 journal entries:
It’s true that ‘The Muse’ can take over. Maybe that’s a risk you have to take, to get that power into the heart of your life? If you want to be overwhelmingly powerfully motivated, moved by real emotion, you have to let that flow.
Both 53 and 31 contain a ‘marriage’ of trigrams, each combining a son and a daughter of the trigram family.
Influence is made of gen, mountain, the youngest son, joined by dui, lake, the youngest daughter: a perfect match of complementary trigrams:
Gradual Progress also has mountain inside, with xun, wood, the eldest daughter, outside:
Both pairs of trigrams come together to paint a single natural landscape: the lake, or the tree, on the mountain. The differences are apt, though.
The mountain needs to form a crater, allowing space so the lake can gather:
‘Above the mountain is a lake. Influence. Noble one accepts people with emptiness.’
The tree will root slowly into the rocky flanks of the mountain, gradually integrating and creating its own miniature ecosystem:
‘On the mountain is a tree. Gradual progress. A noble one abides in virtuous character and improves the ordinary.’
If you’re interested in Yi’s ancient imagery and how it works in readings, I’d definitely recommend you pick up a copy of Language of Change – not just for the ‘marriage’ chapter, but also the sections on river-crossing, compass directions, omens and so on.
In Hexagram 44, we are encountering, meeting or ‘coupling’ with a powerful woman.
‘Coupling, the woman is powerful. Do not take this woman.’
To ‘take’ her means to seize, as one might seize a criminal, but in this usage it’s something like the old-fashioned English, ‘taking a woman in marriage’ – maybe with overtones of bringing her under control in the process! And that’s exactly what you should not try to do. Why not? The Commentary on the Judgement says,
‘Do not take this woman: it cannot last long.’
– which is pretty clear: she can’t be absorbed into your life, she won’t fit, not in the long run. This is the stuff of brief encounters, not an enduring relationship. (See this post for more about this ‘not fitting in’ of 44.)
In this post, I’d like to tackle two questions: how to recognise what the ‘powerful woman’ represents in your readings, and how you might respond to her. (And in the process respond to requests for me to write about 44’s moving lines.)
Who is she?
I’ve run a search in my own Yijing journal for all the readings with Hexagram 44, as both primary and relating hexagram, and also looked through some notes on other people’s readings, to help paint a portrait of this ‘powerful woman’. When people receive Hexagram 44, what are they encountering?
There was the story Mary ‘Midaughter’ Halpin told, in which Hexagram 44 predicted a storm and she only just brought her boat to shore in safety. There are readings about an addiction, or perhaps the addictive personality.
There was a logically-minded man ‘meeting’ the idea of someone taking divination seriously and having no idea what to do with this. But then there was also the querent who ‘met’ the realm of emotion, sexual desire and messy humanity invading the realm of abstraction created by (far too many) Yijing readings.
And there was someone receiving demands for debt repayment, and the tennis player encountering an opponent whose game he couldn’t read.
In all these cases, the ‘powerful woman’ showed up as an irruption of unmanageable reality, perhaps of chaos – something unplanned-for, disruptive, and also potentially creative.
I’ve received 44 as primary hexagram again and again when encountering people I can’t… quite… cope with in the way I’d imagined. (Another kind of ‘irruption of reality’!) I’d be trying to maintain a harmonious relationship with people who simply didn’t want one.
Tradition says the powerful woman seeks to dominate, and for some of these people that actually was their only priority. I was running round looking for ways to make friends, while they were simply looking for ways to defeat me. But others were simply in a fragile mental state, driven by powerful emotional needs of their own that had nothing to do with me or the issue I was concerned about. In one of these journal entries I wrote,
‘You can no more have a stable friendship with that than you can with a flood – so you just have to do the best you can – which isn´t always so great…’
I needed to understand that these people’s motivations were not the straightforward, rational ones I was attributing to them, and – above all – that the kind of harmonious relationship I was trying to create just wasn’t available.
(The mistake I was making in a lot of these situations is nicely summed up by the Shadow hexagram: 21, Biting Through. It looked to me as though there was a specific obstacle to relationship, that I could argue out like a lawyer and bite through; then things would fit together and work perfectly, like good teeth. This was not a useful way to conceive of the situation.)
As relating hexagram, 44 quite often represented an aspect of myself: some irreducible will, or intent, or desire that isn’t available to rational thought; an inner imperative that might change everything.
Sometimes it isn’t clear exactly whom or what the unmarriageable woman represents. There’s a reading about some software, with many attempts to imagine how I’d incorporate it into my way of working – as you might guess, that never happened. Likewise, there’s one about someone else’s organisational system, that wouldn’t work for me. So who’s who in these readings: was this about me meeting the software/ system, or the system meeting me? For the purposes of interpretation, it really doesn’t matter: the point is simply that this is not relationship material. That option doesn’t exist.
Her portrait in trigrams
The trigrams of Hexagram 44 show the wind below heaven, so I’ve been trying to visualise that:
Mary Halpin’s reading of the storm comes to mind, of course. With the whole force of heaven behind the wind, everything is really going to be moved.
What can you do with this?
Hexagram 44 represents the arrival of an uncontrollable, unpredictable great force. The Oracle text tells us we can’t marry this; it doesn’t tell us what we can do with it, probably because there is no dependable, universal answer. What do you ‘do’ with a tornado? Admire its power, stay out of its path if you can, and let it pass. That’s often the best message we can take from a Hexagram 44 reading, too.
However, the power of Coupling isn’t solely destructive. That much is clear from the name of the hexagram, which shows a woman giving birth – perhaps it means the heir, or the woman who gives birth to him. (Here’s Harmen’s article on the subject.) This could also be generative power: witness the fertility imagery in the line texts, the fish in the basket and wrapped melon.
As you read the lines, especially the wonder of line 5, 44 looks like a fertile chaos: there could be a baby; it could generate a whole new world, if it could just be contained and shaped with sufficient care. Maybe. Sometimes.
How could we respond to Coupling?
Be like the prince?
‘Below heaven is the wind. Coupling. The prince sends out mandates and commands to the four corners of the earth.’
The prince uses this heaven-powered wind to transmit mandates that reach to the corners of the earth. Or perhaps ‘uses’ is the wrong word: perhaps he’s understanding the true nature of the energy involved and engaging with its power to bring creative change.
Perhaps you can align yourself with this wind – and also, perhaps you can’t. People aren’t generally advised to take their glider up in a tornado, after all.
There are signs of the prince’s kind of engagement in the line texts, too. (As so often, the Daxiang authors seem to have been inspired by the lines, especially line 5.)
The first sign of 44 as ‘mandate at work’ comes at line 3, which I believe alludes to Yu the Great and the injuries he suffered as he struggled to conquer the floods:
‘Thighs without flesh, Moving awkwardly now. Danger. No great mistake.’
This line isn’t about the honour of receiving the mandate for this work, nor the glories of success, but the whole miserable struggle inbetween: we see him stumbling and limping along (‘the image of someone starved and worked to death,’ says Stephen Field), and Yi only comments that this is ‘no great mistake’. (A joke on ‘Yu the Great’? Could be.)
Line 5 –
‘Using willow to wrap melons. Containing a thing of beauty, It comes falling from its source in heaven.’
– captures more of a sense of gifts from heaven. Literally, this is talking about using willow to shape a growing gourd for use as a bottle. As an image, of course, it looks like a successful pregnancy. (The willow in 28.2.5 is to do with sex and fertility, too.) The ‘thing of beauty’ is ‘structure, composition, rules’, and in the context of this line, which changes to 50, the Vessel, I reckon it refers to a new constitution.
It’s a very beautiful line – and, in practice, I’ve found that the gift that falls to you here is not necessarily something you have a use for – not as things stand.
When these two lines, 3 and 5, change together, you have the properly-tentative background of Hexagram 64, Not Yet Across.
Can you contain the Coupling power, bring it under control? That’s the first positive recommendation of the hexagram:
‘Held fast by a golden chock. Constancy: good fortune. With a direction to go, see the pitfall: A scrawny pig can be trusted to kick and struggle.’
That’s the only time we see ‘good fortune’ in Hexagram 44: when it’s being contained and held fast. If you identify with the impulse, let it become your direction, then you look a great deal like that pig. Stop and steady the ship; beware of unconscious desires that, left unchecked, might end up running the whole show.
In the I Ching Community some years back, this line described the attitude a man was taking to his very demanding mistress after his wife had given birth to twins. In the end, after some stopping and starting, he no longer responded to her.
The other line I think has to do with containing and controlling is line 6:
‘Coupling with your horns. Shame. Not a mistake.’
This one, overwhelmed and probably not thinking too clearly, goes in with horns lowered to wrestle things into some sort of relationship. ‘Shame, not a mistake,’ says Yi, sounding (to me) pretty unenthusiastic; perhaps this is the best you can manage.
When those two lines change together, you have the paired hexagram, 43, Deciding. Someone is quite decisive and determined about how Coupling shall be. Will that work? Perhaps.
Use it as basis for a relationship?
And finally, there are lines 2 and 4, the two about fish traps. This is a fertility image and omen: a basket lowered into the river to catch fish. If you trap some, this bodes well for a marriage and future fertility – as in line 2:
‘In this basket there are fish. No mistake. Not fruitful to entertain guests.’
So the omens are good, or at least not actively bad; now, you need to hold onto the potential and not get ahead of yourself. Margaret Pearson thinks of this as the early stages of pregnancy, to be safeguarded with quiet and Retreat (Hexagram 33, revealed by this line change). SJ Marshall pointed out to us that ‘entertaining guests’ also means the bin rite, performed to introduce the new bride to the groom’s ancestors: you don’t want to go that far yet, just on the strength of a few fish. Drawing on both these ideas, I wrote in my book, “What you do not have is a guarantee of results. It is far too early to introduce your hope to a wider context and expect it to bear fruit. For now, it should have your inner space to itself, free from premature expectations. You can best care for any long term possibilities by not presuming on them.”
But in line 4 –
‘In this basket, no fish. Rising up, pitfall.’
– there are no fish, so there’s no possibility of starting anything. As the fourth line, this one may have a positive, ‘What can I do with this?’ attitude; as the line joining with Hexagram 57, Subtle Penetration, it’s moved by a desire to integrate the new energy: ‘How can I use this, make it part of my plans?’
The short answer is that you can’t, because you don’t have a relationship with it. It’s not that there are no fish in the river, but there are none in your basket; it’s not that there is nothing new, it’s that you need to connect with it consciously, as something new that doesn’t slot into the space you had for it.
(Somewhere in the I Ching Community archives, someone asked about the ‘energy’ between themselves and another person and received this line. 18 months later, they still hadn’t spoken.)
These two ‘fish basket’ lines together change 44 to Hexagram 53, Gradual Development: the hexagram of marriage and the geese flying home together. Coupling coming home, building a long-term relationship, is simply not reliable. Perhaps there’s conception, but perhaps there isn’t even that. Exactly as the Commentary on the Judgement says, ‘It cannot last long.’
I hope this post will make sense. It’s something I thought of in the small hours of the morning when I couldn’t sleep, and started counting complementary hexagrams instead of sheep (as you do…) –
Here’s a picture of the Sequence of Hexagrams:
Hm… maybe that could do with some explanation:
Each complementary pair (including the ones that are inverse pairs as well) is represented with ( ).
Every other pair is represented by an arrow: facing forward if that pair’s complement is ahead of it in the Sequence, facing backward if it’s behind it. You can think of it as which way the hexagrams are ‘looking’ to find the patterns that complement them.
The curly brackets don’t represent hexagrams – they just enclose groups of hexagrams that are one another’s complements. The big, orange brackets enclose the Vessel Casting group, 3-50; the others enclose hexagrams 7-16, 37-40 and 51-60. (I could have added more brackets around 51-64, but I thought we’d got enough to be going on with.) If you’re a Change Circle member, you may already be aware of a lot of very lovely – and very meaningful – patterns and reflections created inside those curly brackets that I described in the Exploring the Sequence book last year.
The little blue letters identify some interesting moments.
Now of course, you’d expect more of the hexagrams in the first half of the book to be looking forward to find their complements, and most of those in the second half to be looking back. The fun starts when you look at the exceptions: the moments when the expected flow forward or backward changes direction.
At ‘a’, you get the first hexagrams to look back to find their complement. Since we entered the Vessel Casting set, each pair has been looking forward – until you reach Hexagram 12, Blocked:
That turns us around to look back. I’ve written about this structure, and the historical moment I think it encodes, in Exploring the Sequence – but even without that level of detail, isn’t it interesting that Hexagram 12 should be the one to compel us to look back?
We start looking forward again at ‘b’. That’s Hexagram 19, Nearing:
We go past the complementary pairs at the end of the Upper Canon – 27/28, 29/30 – and into the Lower Canon, where (at ‘c’) we find the first backward-looking arrow for a while – at Hexagram 33, Retreat,
…which as you see is the complement of 19. 19 is about going forward, and 33 is about going back. (Also, from hexagrams 19/20 to 33/34 inclusive makes eight pairs. ‘Arrival at the eighth month…’?)
The letter ‘d’ marks a unique moment, when complementary/opposite hexagrams are adjacent in the Sequence without being part of a complementary pair. By this point it might not surprise you that this moment’s marked with Hexagram 38, Opposing.
As you can see from the arrows, this is another moment of changing direction. Travelling south and west instead of north and east, perhaps. Coming instead of going, as you might say: turning around.
‘Above the mountain, there is water. Limping. Noble one turns himself around to renew his character.’
(Hexagram 39, the Image)
From then until the end of the Vessel Casting pattern at Hexagram 50, every pair is ‘coming back’. It takes a full-size Shock to flip us around again and make us look forward.
Really, you might think someone had done this on purpose.
Once you start looking at where individual pairs find their complements, there’s more to see. For instance, the greatest distance between two complementary pairs is that between 3 and 50: it takes a long time to complete a Vessel. The second greatest distance begins with Hexagram 5, which has to Wait until Hexagram 35 for its complement. (Oddly enough, 3/4, 5/6, 35/36 and 49/50 are eight of the twelve ‘Steps of Change’ reached by changing single lines in 63/64, at the very end. The remaining four are 37/38 and 39/40, the closest complements.)
(And isn’t the third-biggest distance between 21, Biting Through, and 48, the Well, two hexagrams about closing or bridging a gap?)
(Add your own parentheses ad lib; there is so much to this book that we haven’t yet seen. I can’t recommend it as a soporific, though.)