Blog post: Two-line changes

[hilary]

If you’ve been working with Yi for a while, you’re probably familiar with the idea of looking at the hexagram each individual moving line would change to on its own, to give you a better context to understand its meaning. You might have heard them referred to as zhi gua, or (by Stephen Karcher) as ‘steps of change’.
Sometimes you can see the mind of the oracle’s creators at work quite clearly when you look at line and zhi gua, as at 38.5 zhi 10, Treading behind the tiger:

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

Which ancestor? One with remarkably good teeth, apparently…
(And incidentally, there’s a Chinese word for ‘ancestor’, xian, that consists of the components ‘person’ and ‘footstep’.)
Sometimes the connection is a bit more of a challenge, and the moment of seeing the connection-that-isn’t-there becomes an intimate part of the reading experience. 6.5, for instance:

‘Arguing: good fortune from the source.’
​

Really? Considering that just about every other line tells you that arguing is dangerous or futile or both, how could it be a good idea?
Well, maybe in that moment when you’re arguing but not yet across, not yet committed to a position or a next step, and acutely aware of the dangers of committing yourself on thin ice…?
It does seem as though someone had these connections in mind as they – somehow! – put this oracle together. The line that connects two hexagrams often has something quite specific to say about… well… the connection between the two hexagrams.
So… what about when two lines connect two hexagrams? Might the two lines together say something about the relationship? Well… of course. In the context of a reading, I’d always explore how the changing lines, however many of them there were, defined the relating hexagram ‘moment’ of the primary hexagram. But is this something we can see in the abstract, without a reading in mind?
I think it is. At least, every now and then, I stumble across a two-line connection that’s quite as clearly ‘meant’ as some of the one-line connections.
One I’ve mentioned before: 60.1.2 changing to 8 – Measuring’s moment of Seeking Union, looking for and choosing a place to belong:

‘Not going out of the door to the family rooms.
Not a mistake.’
‘Not going out of the gate from the courtyard.
Pitfall.’
​

With these two lines together, with their parallel construction and contrasting omens, perhaps you’re finding a measured balance between self-sufficiency and parochialism.
Another: 27.2.4 to 38 – an alienated, oppositional aspect to the structures of Nourishment:

‘Unbalanced nourishment.
Rejecting the standard, looking to the hill-top for nourishment.
Setting out to bring order – pitfall.’
‘Unbalanced nourishment,
Good fortune.
Tiger watches, glares and glares.
His appetites, pursues and pursues.
No mistake.’
​

These are the only two lines of 27 that speak of ‘unbalanced nourishment’ – nourishment fallen, toppled, turned upside down, subverted. Perhaps that’s what happens when you bring 38′s different way of seeing to bear on what sustains you.
And one more: 55.3.4 to 24. I just noticed this recently, and I think it’s one of my favourites. Hexagram 24 is Returning, the hexagram of winter solstice, the darkest point when the light begins to return. Hexagram 55 describes a total solar eclipse – and the two lines that join it to Returning evoke its darkest moment:

‘Feng is flooded with darkness
At midday, seeing a froth of light.
Your right arm broken,
Not a mistake.’
‘Feng is screened off
At midday, seeing the Dipper.
Meeting your hidden lord,
Good fortune.’
​

(Change all three lines that refer to the stars visible during the eclipse, 2, 3 and 4, and you have hexagram 19, the Nearing of a benevolent spirit, a clear promise in the darkness.)
I find each one of these a complete delight… the only thing is, they leave me wondering about every other two-line change, and quite how much I must be missing.

 

[sooo]

All of this reminds me of something related to xian as footstep. A person has two legs and their footstep usually places one in front of the other, at least when walking or running forward.

Lately I've been learning about horses, which of course have four legs, or two sets of legs. Though there are numerous styles of trots, gaits and gallops, the more western (basic) styles of trotting (loping) are two: one being legs 1-3 and 2-4

, while in the second, the front and rear legs of the same side move together, as illustrated in this pace:

. Both move the horse forward. Actually the first is much easier to ride, though these trots, gaits and gallops are typically determined by breed.

When the change lines obviously relate in synch, it is like the second illustration. They're easy to connect. But when they're not easy to connect, as in the first illustration, they are still in sync, but in a diagonal pattern. It's a bit like asking, what does black have to do with white? Well, it's the other side of the horse, left to right, front to rear.

I'm sometimes a little suspicious when authors' zhi gua are obviously related, thinking their commentary deliberately draws the parallel for the sake of obvious continuity. I do believe this to sometimes be true. But not always, obviously. Normally one would expect the gait of the two to be walking in a parallel motion, rather than in a style that appears contradictory. Yet the contradiction is no accident or misrepresentation. It just depends on the horse.

 

[hilary]

Your horse pace pictures are missing, but I think I see what you mean anyway. I didn't know they did the one-sided thing... I thought that was just giraffes or something...

If by 'authors' you mean translators - yes, speaking for myself, you're quite right to be deeply suspicious. I paid a lot of attention to zhi gua and line pathways in working out what to say.

 

[sooo]

hmm, I still see the horse images on Firefox. Will open IE to take a look. Yup, see them there too. Wonder why you don't see them?

I agree, my connection is a bit far fetched, but since you offered the connection of xian to footstep and man, and also doubled that, the four footed (hooved) footstep of a horse seemed vaguely relevant, and I even wondered if there wasn't a deliberate connection intended originally, since horses, not automobiles, were the chief means of transportation, other than a person walking.

I meant authors of books, including their commentaries, not of the original Yijing. But I do get your meaning.

I think the zhi gua matches even when they appear not to, as you too have pointed out.

Btw, some of my horse terminology wasn't accurate, as Bob, my landlord and long time horse guy has pointed out. But horses with that side to side type of walk are loosely called gaited horses here. Camels also walk that way, which make the rider move side to side rather than forward and back. The second horse picture he said was likely a Kentucky trotter, used not only in Kentucky Derby races but originated in Kentucky for long bareback rides common there in the 1800s.