What is qian?
I always find this the hardest trigram to describe. Mountains are big and rocky and don’t move; plants grow and move in the wind. Water flows and reflects, fire illuminates and burns, thunder crashes, earth sustains. But what does heaven do? And what does it mean for us?
Back to the very basics… always my favourite place… the sun, moon and stars move in their courses. We can’t change them. We can touch or interact with the other seven trigrams, but all we can do with heaven is watch and learn. We look up to learn where we are and what time it is. After all, we spend hexagram 1 watching the dragon move across the sky so we know what we should be doing in the fields.
Of course, qian is not only ‘heaven’ – that isn’t what the word means, though what it does mean is up for debate. I’ve written in more detail before about qian as axis. The key, I think, is that qian is both what is true, and also how we know it, and so it’s the centre and source for everything else. You might also think of it as the idea that can take form: the ideal or creative principle always searching for a place and time to be realised.
What could this be as an inner trigram – a personal, inner experience?
- what you know to be true?
- your creative drive? idealism?
- your original self, your true nature?
And how might this relate to the outer trigram?
Perhaps the outer trigram is what gives the inner qian its place to be realised – showing how and where and to what extent it can find expression. Or – and this is not really a different idea, only a different way to describe the same relationship – the outer trigram might be imbued with qian, energised and empowered to be the truest version of itself.
Here’s what I suggested for inner qian in the Foundations Course:
As an inner trigram, qian might be experienced as an intense, irreducible awareness of truth: this is so. This might imbue the noble one with a sense of an inner law in alignment with the power of heaven: the strength of his own character, his mandate, or his path. Such inner awareness of creative harmony is a potent fuel for change: the awareness of what to do, or how to be, is given along with the power to follow it. The outer trigram will show how it’s possible to work with this inner principle.
Let’s see what that looks like in some hexagrams…
Hexagram 1, Creative Force
‘Creative Force.
From the source, creating success.
Constancy bears fruit.’
The Yijing begins with yuan heng li zhen, a whole creative arc driving from inspiration towards realisation. With every line firm, there is no pause in this – no inflection, no opening, no breathing space:
‘The heavens move ceaselessly.
A noble one in his own strength does not pause.’
Inner qian flows through into outer qian, inner knowing into inspired action, without interruption. What the noble one does not do is 息 xi, meaning to cease, rest or breathe. There is no pause for breath: no making allowances because it’s Friday, or I’m not as young as I used to be, or the weather forecast is bad.
Watching vigilantly at dusk, we know the Dragon will appear in the heavens, and we can align our lives with that celestial timing. The noble one will not pause any more than the Dragon might take the night off: he is infused with the same sure and certain knowledge that this is so, and it unfolds as it should.
The Tuanzhuan says (in the Wilhelm/Baynes translation):
‘The way of the Creative works through change and transformation, so that each thing receives its true nature and destiny and comes into permanent accord with the Great Harmony.’
Hexagram 5, Waiting
Inner qian‘s next appearance is at Hexagram 5, Waiting: heaven inside, kan above, like clouds above heaven.
‘Waiting, with truth and confidence.
Shining out, creating success: constancy brings good fortune.
Fruitful to cross the great river.’
‘The clouds are above heaven. Waiting.
A noble one eats, drinks and relaxes with music.’
The Tuanzhuan says,
‘Danger lies ahead. Being firm and strong, one does not fall into it.’
Kan for danger ahead, qian for inner firmness and strength. Wilhelm adds, “Since we feel secure in our own strength and do not act overhastily, we avoid perplexity.”
That sets the two trigrams in opposition to one another: we should maintain the qualities of inner qian in the face of the vicissitudes of the outside world. That will be the inner truth and confidence that shines out into the uncertainty of kan.
Only I don’t think that’s all that is happening here. The noble one can eat, drink and relax because the clouds will move and rain will fall – kan will act – in heaven’s good time. In other words, the inner trigram is also directing and finding expression in the outer.
Also, the outer trigram is often not just what you face out there but what you will do. And in this hexagram, the outer kan implies a fluent commitment to what can be realised in future – one that might inspire us to cross rivers. Qian finding expression in kan means creative constancy manifest as a fluid response to uncertainty.
Kan by itself could not be confident, I think. The Shuogua says (Lynn’s translation),
‘In respect to men, it is the increasingly anxious, the sick at heart, the ones with earaches.’
Hardly the ones who eat, drink and relax with music while they wait for a change in the weather.
However, in the original Zhouyi tradition, Hexagram 29 (kan doubled) has truth and confidence and ‘a connected heart’. (Even the Shuogua says that it is those horses that ‘put their whole hearts into it’.) So kan at its best might be a trigram of heartfelt commitment – of courage. Joining with qian seems to bring out those qualities, creating the confident flexibility of Waiting.
Hexagram 9, Small Tending
‘Small tending, creating success.
Dense clouds without rain
Come from my Western altars.’
‘Wind moves above heaven: Small tending.
A noble one cultivates the natural pattern of character.’
This only differs by one line from Hexagram 5, and the picture seems very similar. The rain isn’t falling yet; there is potential not quite realised; this calls for patience.
I find the trigrams really help with differentiating between these two. Hexagram 9 has xun, wind or wood, on the outside, and xun grows. So Hexagram 9 tends, nurtures and builds up its inner qian; it needs not only to be patient, but also conscientious and attentive to small things.
Tradition says that xun can only imperfectly contain the inner qian, which is why the clouds scud past without raining. Wilhelm says,
“The wind restrains the clouds, the rising breath of the Creative, and makes them grow dense, but as yet is not strong enough to turn them to rain.”
So Hexagram 9 is ‘The Taming Power of the Small’ whereas 26, with the more robust mountain above, is ‘The Taming Power of the Great’.
This makes sense… and yet 畜 xu, the thing that’s done in a small way here and a great way in Hexagram 26, doesn’t particularly mean to restrain, check or bring under control. The dictionaries I have give its core ancient meaning as ‘to rear livestock’, and also to provide for, nourish, accept, store up, garner.
So I’m starting to call this one ‘Small Tending’ instead of ‘Small Taming’. It’s trying to realise an inner nature and potential, to give it a chance to grow in real life – so your calf can actually grow into a big bull, or your little clan’s culture can actually grow into a great civilisation, and those clouds will finally rain. Xun is tending qian in small ways.
Or if you imagine the trigram relationship the other way around – qian acting through xun – then this is the hexagram where heaven’s power finds its expression in gentle, gradual growth. Only cultivate your garden.
The outer trigram determines how inner heaven can be manifest or experienced: in Small Tending, through growth; in Waiting, through heartfelt trust in the natural process of change. So Hexagram 5 will wait and let its faith ‘shine out’ through the ritual of food and drink. It’s inviting change rather than creating it. Hexagram 9 is more directly active, tending something that will grow if you feed it.
Kan outside lets inner nature become outer flow, and its best and purest expression might be a leap of faith (cross the river). Xun outside lets inner nature grow into outer culture and character, and its best and purest expression might be a gentle, patient persistence.

thanks for the revealing commentary… just one note…
several legacy I Ching translations suggest somewhat negative connotations to Hexagram 1 unchanging… suggesting it implies strength not acted on… as though it represents a failure to act in some way…
I’m not saying that’s irrelevant, but a more central meaning to me is positive… yang energy, strength and capability in waiting for the proper time to act, knowing when that time comes it has all its attributes ready to act …
Hi William,
Do you remember where you read that about Hexagram 1 unchanging? Sounds interesting, and not many translations talk about the meaning of unchanging hexagrams. My experience with 1 unchanging has been the energy unrealised – no soil for it to grow in – which, as you say, is not necessarily a bad thing.