I’ve written before about not being in too much of a hurry to get past your reading’s imagery to ‘what it means’, because the image is what talks to you, and where you live, and somehow is the hinge and pivot of change in a way that a concept isn’t.
I just wanted to add that this makes it worthwhile to respond to readings in a very simple, child-like way. If your readings keep talking about horses, and you’re not sure how to make sense of that – don’t. Go and talk with some horses instead. (The only word of Horse I know is ‘hello’, said by blowing down your nostrils – but it goes a surprisingly long way.)
Puzzling over 40 line 4? Grab strongly, make a fist, then release your thumb, and pay attention. 31.1? Calls for toe-wriggling, also while paying attention. When writing about 20.2 for the book, I spent time at my partly-open front door and peering through the crack, so I was sure I knew what this looked like and how it felt. Hexagram 46 – climbed any hills lately? 9 – done any gardening?
Some lines (like 49.5 or 62.1) will likely require more imagination for you to live them in this way. But none requires you to know for sure what they refer to, or ‘make sense of’ them (an overrated pastime), or anything like that, before you start. And then it’s amazing what you can learn – more or less consciously – just by playing with the image.
Totally with you on this, having recently blown down horses’s noses and climbed hills. I’m a big fan of the ‘you don’t have to know how this works in order for it to work’ thing.
Me, too. Which with Yi is really just as well, isn’t it?
Brilliant. Just brilliant.
Thank you, Bon. I like to think so. Maybe my renditions of songs with actions in playgroup were an early hint of brilliance to come?