## 1. The Text of the *Book of Changes*


### 1.1 Human Finitude



Underlying the philosophy of the *Changes* is the notion that
the cosmos is an organismic process without beginning or end. As a
process, the cosmos resembles a great flow in which "all of the
parts of the entire cosmos belong to one organic whole" and all
the parts "interact as participants in one spontaneously
self-generating process" (Tu 1985: 35). As such, there are three
characteristics of this great flow: continuity, wholeness, and
dynamism. It is continuous because it never stops in renewing itself.
It is holistic because it includes everything in the universe and
permeates in all aspects of life. It is dynamic because it is full of
motion and movement, generating energy and strength all the time (Tu
1985: 38-39). In this cosmic flow, there is no distinction
between the natural realm and the human realm, between an observing
subject and an observed object, and between the inner world and the
outer world. Everything is part of a totality, a group dance that
never stops.



Because of its origin, the philosophy of the *Changes* was
embedded in the practices of divination. In early China, divination
was intrinsically philosophical because they were undertaken by the
upper classes to make critical decisions, such as starting a war,
stopping a natural disaster, or choosing a spouse to continue the
family line. Before divination, an inquirer must have a question in
mind to seek guidance from a deity or the spirit of an ancestor. The
result of a divination would be transmitted to the inquirer in a code
(as shown in the engravings in the oracle bones) and the inquirer must
interpret the code to formulate an action plan. In the whole process,
interpreting the code--known as prognostication--was the
most important step where the inquirer, aided by experts, made
critical decisions based on the message (Shaughnessy 2014: 1-36;
2022: 68-84). Hence, divination was not a blind faith in a
supernatural power. Rather, it was an attempt to make an informed
decision based on a reflection of the past, an apprehension of the
present, and an anticipation of the future (Allan 1991; Gotshalk 1999;
Marshall 2001; Raphals 2013, Redmond 2017; Shaughnessy 1992
[1997]).



More importantly, underlying the practice of divination was the notion
that human beings must accept their limitations. First and foremost,
human beings cannot fully understand the cosmos because it is an
organismic process. As part of the great flow, human beings are bound
by specific time and space. Like a drop of water in an ocean, we are
conditioned by the totality of the ocean and its dynamism. We act,
react, push, and pull, but we never know the vastness and depth of the
ocean.



Paradoxically, acknowledging our finitude gives us courage and
flexibility to actively involve into our lives. As a drop of water in
an ocean, we can reinvent ourselves in every moment. Our
action--intentional or unintentional--will cause a change in
the world; through the butterfly effect, our action will subsequently
come back to affect us in our lives. Consequently, every action we
take is both a result of a precedent situation and a cause of the
following situation. Bounded and yet free, we are part of the process
of creative-creation where, as Alfred North Whitehead puts it,
"the many become one and are increased by one" (Whitehead
1929 [1978]: 342-351).



In the *Changes*, this interdependence of subject and object,
inner and outer, cause and effect, are presented graphically in the
symbols of yin Yin  (the passive force), a broken line (-
-), and yang Yang  (the active force), a straight line
(--). By mixing the straight and broken lines, trigrams
(three-line grids) and hexagrams (six-line grids) are formed.
Allegedly developed by Fu Xi, these trigrams and hexagrams can be seen
as coded messages from a supernatural power. But these trigrams and
hexagrams can also be understood as a system of signs that helps us
understand the fluidity and complexity of the cosmic flow. In the
*Xici* Xi Ci  (The Attached Statements, one of the
Ten Wings), we find a description of how Fu Xi developed the eight
trigrams to represent the world:



> 
> 
> When in early antiquity Pao Hsi [Fu Xi] ruled the world, he looked
> upward and contemplated the images in the heavens; he looked downward
> and contemplated the patterns on earth. He contemplated the markings
> of birds and beasts and the adaptations to the regions. He proceeded
> directly from himself and indirectly from objects. Thus he invented
> the eight trigrams in order to enter into connection with the virtues
> of the light of the gods and to regulate the conditions of all beings.
> (WB67: 328-329)
> 
> 
> 



For the authors of *Xici*, the eight trigrams (,
, , , , , , ) ) are
potent symbols. They are "signifiers" that help us, the
perceivers, develop a sense of what the "signified" may
look like. With different combinations of a straight line (--)
and a broken line (- -), the trigrams symbolize the ebb
and flow of the yin and the yang cosmic forces. Similarly, a hexagram
(a six-lines grid) is also a symbol of the unfolding of the universe.
For example, a hexagram can be divided into two trigrams: the lower
trigram (lines 1-3) and the upper trigram (lines 4-6).
With one trigram below and one trigram above, a hexagram symbolizes
the interaction of two sets of yin-yang configuration, demonstrating
the multiple ways in which the yin and yang forces interact and
transform each other. One may also take the lower two lines of a
hexagram as representing the earth (*di* Di ), the middle
two lines as representing humankind (*ren* Ren ), and the
top two lines as representing heaven (*tian* Tian ). Then,
we have a trigram within a hexagram. Known as the "three
potencies" (*san cai* San Cai ), the relation of
heaven, earth, and humankind highlights the co-dependence between the
natural realm (*tian* and *di*) and the human realm
(*ren*).



For the authors of *Xugua* Xu Gua  (Explaining the
Sequence of Hexagrams, one of the Ten Wings), there are meanings in
the sequence of the 64 hexagrams. The sequence depicts a continuous
development of human society. The process begins with satisfying basic
human needs (such as food, shelter, and security) and founding a
patrilineal family structure. Subsequently, the patrilineal family
structure is further expanded into a complex socio-political system
based on the distinctions between kings and officials and rulers and
the ruled. Yet, this seemingly triumphant march to perfect human
society is repeatedly interrupted by hesitations and disruptions,
obstacles and blunders, and reforms and rebellions. At the end, this
quest for a better society becomes a never-ending process, like the
great flow of the cosmos.



To the authors of *Xugua*, this never-ending process of
building a better society is symbolized by the last hexagram,
*Weiji* Wei Ji  ([?]  Ferrying Incomplete, #64).
If ended with *Jiji* Ji Ji  ([?] Ferrying
Complete, #63), the *Changes* would have been perfect because
*Jiji* is the best hexagram in terms of yin-yang
correspondence. Reading *Jiji*



> 
> 
> [?]
> 
> 
> 



from the bottom to the top, the first yang line of *Jiji*
corresponds with the fourth yin line, the second yin line corresponds
with the fifth yang line, and the third yang line corresponds with the
top yin line. In addition, *Jiji* is perfect in the position of
the six lines: a yang line at the first position, a yin line at the
second position, a yang line at the third position, a yin line at the
fourth position, a yang line at the fifth position, and a yin line at
the top position. Ended with *Jiji*, the *Changes* would
have an optimistic tone. It would suggest that if not now, at least in
the distant future, all problems in this world are going to be
resolved. Sooner or later, we will reach the paradise.



Ended with *Weiji*, however, the *Changes* becomes
ominous and open-ended. On the surface, the configuration of
*Weiji*



> 
> 
> [?] 
> 
> 
> 



is undesirable. Looking at the hexagram line positions, *Weiji*
must be in a dreadful condition: its yang positions (first, third, and
fifth) are occupied by yin lines, and its yin positions (second,
fourth, and sixth) are occupied by yang lines. Being in the wrong
positions, all six lines cannot fully utilize their potential. It is
somewhat like what we see during the Covid-19 pandemic where the
supply chains and production lines were disrupted, dislocated, and
displaced due to travel bans and shutdowns. At the same time, although
all positions of *Weiji* are in the wrong order, the lines
correspond with one another in terms of their yin-yang nature: the yin
lines at the first and third positions correspond respectively with
the yang lines at the fourth and sixth positions, and the yang line at
the second position corresponds with the yin line at the fifth
position. Because of the correspondence amongst the six lines,
*Weiji* is full of vital potentials. Once these vital
potentials are activated, *Weiji* will flourish. It is similar
to the potentials of inter- and intra-regional collaborations in the
world system that have developed over the last four decades. The
temporary disruptions and shutdowns during the pandemic did not cause
damages the structure of the system. The system bounces back quickly
after the travel bans and shutdowns are lifted.


### 1.2 Decision Making



Together, *Jiji* and *Weiji* show that human agency is
the key driving force that would transform a dreadful situation (e.g.,
*Weiji*) into a more positive, enterprising situation (e.g.,
*Jiji*). For the authors of *Xici*, this is where
decision matters. In a favorable situation, if someone can make good
decisions as to what to do, how to do, and when to do, it will yield
"good fortune" as opposite to courting
"misfortune." Even in an undesirable situation, if people
are smart, they can find ways to make a horrendous situation into a
mild "remorse" or even a less less-harmful
"humiliation."



In the hexagram and line statements, the importance of decision making
is spelled out clearly. For instance, in the
prognostications--inquirers' interpretations of the
messages received in divination--we find both positive utterances
such as "auspicious" (*ji* Ji ) and
"without blame" (*wujiu* Wu Jiu ) and
stern warnings such as "calamity" (*xiong*
Xiong ), "blame" (*jiu*Jiu ),
"regret" (*hui* Hui ) and "remorse"
(*lin* Lin ). These contrasting prognostications highlight
the reality of human existence that when the wind of luck is on our
side, we will do well, but when we are out of luck, we will be doomed
to failure.



Take, for instance, *Qian* Gan  ([?] The Creative,
#1). The line statements depict the six yang lines as a dragon in
various positions (for a translation of *Qian*, see WB67:
3-10). Reading from the bottom to the top, the first line of
*Qian* is a "hidden dragon", the second line an
"emerging dragon", the third line "a gentleman
(perhaps a stand in of a dragon) in deep thought all day long",
the fourth line a "wavering dragon", the fifth line a
"flying dragon", and the top line an "arrogant
dragon" (see
 Appendix 5).
 In addition, each line statements of *Qian* suggest a proper
course of action in respective to the position of the dragon. Thus,
the "hidden dragon" should avoid taking aggressive action,
the "emerging dragon" and the "flying dragon"
most look for assistance from "a great man", the
"wavering dragon" should take flight over the depths
despite the danger and apparent risks, and the "arrogant
dragon" will regret being stubborn and excessively
confident.



But, as a hexagram, *Qian* is ambiguous. On the one hand, in
five of its six lines, the tone seems to be upbeat, projecting an
impression of an incessant progress from a hidden dragon to an
emerging dragon, a wavering dragon and finally a flying dragon. On the
other hand, the progression is abruptly interrupted by the swift
downfall of an arrogant dragon. Like a Greek tragedy, the rapid fall
of the arrogant dragon suggests hubris, highlighting the danger of
excessive human pride in making strenuous efforts to pull oneself
up.



To highlight the danger of hubris, the authors of *Tuan zhuan*
Tuan Chuan  (Commentary on the Decision, one of the Ten Wings),
emphasize the importance of creatively and continuously assuming the
positions of the six dragons in response to the challenges in daily
life (for a translation of the *Tuan zhuan* statement, see
WB67: 370-72). By taking up all six positions of the six
dragons, the authors of *Tuan Zhuan* mean two things. First,
they view *Qian* not as a structure of six discrete steps
starting from the first line and ending with the top line. Rather they
see *Qian* as a continuum, a cycle of events that keeps
repeating itself. Even if one strictly follows the incremental
progress from a hidden dragon (the first line) to an emerging dragon
(the second line) to a flying dragon (the fifth line), upon reaching
the top (an arrogant dragon), one must go back down to a hidden dragon
and to start all over again. Second, the authors of *Tuan
zhuan* suggest readers when facing a challenge in their lives,
they should choose a dragon most suitable to the circumstances, such
as to assume the position of a hidden dragon when starting a new
business or beginning a new career, to act like an emerging dragon
after receiving recognition from peers or bosses, to be like a
wavering dragon when making crucial transition in career or location,
to be like a flying dragon when everything seems to be flourishing,
and last but not least, to avoid becoming an arrogant dragon when
everything looks perfect but a decline is imminent.



On the other hand, the authors of *Xici* also highlight the
importance of decision-making by putting strong emphasis on human
precariousness. To draw attention to making wise decisions, the
authors of *Xici* focus on "fear and anxiety"
(*youhuan* You Huan ) as a main theme of the
*Changes*. For instance, they link the rise of the popularity
of the *Changes* to the political crisis during the Shang-Zhou
transition (*Xici* II: 7; WB67: 345). To them, the popularity
of hexagram divination was a consequence of the "fear and
anxiety" arisen from the transferal of the "mandate of
heaven" (*tianming* Tian Ming ) from the Shang
rulers to the Zhou rulers. Particularly, they view the epic battle
between the last ruler of Shang (King Zhou Zhou Wang ) and the
first ruler of Zhou (King Wen Wen Wang ) as the turning point
in this drastic shift in political fortune, where the evil king was
brought low by the superior power of a virtuous ruler. In this epic of
Shang-Zhou translation, the authors of *Xici* find an
affirmation of the Mandate of Heaven--an invisible force of the
universe in choosing wise rulers, and also a stern warning in the
concrete facts that a once powerful King Zhou was brought low due to
the circumstances. Particularly in the downfall of the evil King Zhou,
the authors of *Xici* remind readers of the disastrous
consequences of bad decisions and reckless moves.



For the authors of *Xici*, whether provoking fear or instilling
anxiety, the effect of hexagram divination is the same. It forces
readers to reflect on their arrogance, complacency, and
self-indulgence. It shocks them to look for ways to come to terms with
contingency and uncertainty. Above all, it directs attention to the
dark side of human beings such as complacency, jealousy, greediness,
and wickedness.


### 1.3 Symbols



Despite warning of hubris and human wickedness, the
*Xici*'s authors also assure readers that if they learn
to read hexagrams properly, they will discern the pattern behind
incessant changes. They write:



> 
> 
> The *Changes* is a book from which one may not hold aloof. Its
> *dao* [i.e., pattern] is forever changing--alternating,
> movement without rest, flowing through the six empty places [of a
> hexagram]; rising and sinking without fixed law, firm and yielding
> transform each other. They cannot be confined within a rule; it is
> only change that is at work here. They move inward and outward
> according to fixed rhythms. Without and within, they teach caution.
> They also show care and sorrow and their causes. Though you have no
> teacher, approach them as you would your parents. (*Xici* II:
> 7; WB67: 348-49, with modifications)
> 
> 
> 



Seen in this light, the 64 hexagrams are no longer oracles. They
become symbols of the constant movements in the universe and the
ceaseless changes in one's life. More significantly, they point
to the intricate networks of factors or forces--from near to far
away, from simple to complicated, from visible to invisible--that
shape the movements and changes around us.



Yet, while scholars of *Changes* generally agree that trigrams
and hexagrams are symbols of the cosmic group dance, there is no
consensus as to how they understand symbolic and verbal
representation. Do they view visual and verbal symbols as realistic
representation of the dynamic unfolding of the universe? Or do they
view visual and verbal symbols as selective depictions of the outside
world?



The former is a version of the "copy theory of
representation" where symbols are tools, accurately and
realistically copying the outside world for our perusal. It assumes
that there is an objective world out there, and we develop tools to
copy it. And the effectiveness of the tools is determined by how
realistically they are in capturing the objective reality. The latter
smacks of Ernst Cassirer's philosophy of symbolic forms where
symbols are schemas, conceptually and homologically classifying the
outside world to support our images of the world. It assumes that the
universe is far more complex and complicated than humans can
apprehend, and therefore, the best humans can do is developing tools
to give them a sense of the universe. Thus, the tools created are
partly subjective and partly objective. They are subjective in the
sense that they are man-made and limited by human cognitive and
emotive capabilities. They are objective in the sense that they
provide an image of the world, allowing humans to function in daily
life.



In the *Xici*, we find passages that support the copy theory of
representation. The clearest example is the story of Bao Xi (Pao Hsi
Bao Xi , another name for Fu Xi Fu Xi ) in Part 2,
2:1. In that passage, Bao Xi reportedly created a system of signs
after observing the meteorological patterns in the sky and the
geographical patterns on the ground. This story goes like this:



> 
> 
> When in early antiquity Bao Xi ruled the world, he looked upward and
> contemplated the images in heavens; he looked downward and
> contemplated the patterns on earth. He contemplated the markings of
> birds and beasts and the adaptations to the regions. He proceeded
> directly from himself and indirectly from objects. Thus he invented
> the eight trigrams in order to enter into connection with the virtues
> of the light of the gods and to regulate the conditions of all beings.
> He made knotted cords and used them for nets and baskets in hunting
> and fishing. He probably took this from the hexagram of THE CLINGING
> ("Li"). (*Xici* II: 2; WB67: 328-329 with
> modifications)
> 
> 
> 



To some scholars, this story not only explains the creation of
trigrams and hexagrams but also proves that the graphic symbols are
realistic representation of the world. They point out that the two key
terms in the Bao Xi story--contemplation (*guan* Guan )
and proceeding [from what is close to us to what is far beyond]
(*qu* Qu )--denote an active quest for empirical
knowledge through careful observation and rational deduction that
leads to a factual understanding of the workings of the universe.



Furthermore, the Bao Xi story continues after his death. We are told
that another mythical figure, the Divine Husbandman (*shennong*
Shen Nong ) drew inspiration from the hexagram *Yi*
Yi  (Increase #42) and used his knowledge to teach people
farming. He also drew lessons from the hexagram *Shihe*
Shi Ke  (Biting Through, #21) to teach people how to exchange
goods to improve their lives. After the Divine Husbandman, Yellow
Emperor, Shao and Shun continued to draw inspirations from a long list
of hexagrams. They used their knowledge to teach people to improve
their living conditions, including farming, government, and housing.
The experiences of all these mythical figures show that the trigrams
and hexagrams are realistic representations of the empirical world.
Like a Google Map or a satellite image in our times, the trigrams and
hexagrams help the mythical figures navigate the complex reality and
achieve what they want in everyday life.



However, this "copy theory of representation" only appears
in a small number of passages in the *Xici*. Most of the other
passages remind us of Ernst Cassirer's subjective use of
symbols. Take, for instance, *Xici* I: 2 in which we find a
different perspective of the creation of symbols.



> 
> 
> The holy sages instituted the hexagrams, so that phenomena might be
> perceived therein. They appended the judgments, in order to indicate
> good fortune and misfortune. As the firm and the yielding lines
> displace one another, change and transformation arise. Therefore good
> fortune and misfortune are the images of gain and loss; remorse and
> humiliation are the images of sorrow and forethought. (*Xici*
> Part I: 2; WB67: 287-288)
> 
> 
> 



Here, the creation of trigrams and hexagrams is described as a
deliberate act of representing the world. We are told that the holy
sages "instituted" (*she* She ) the hexagrams
and "appended" (*xi* Xi ) the *Xici*.
In both cases, the creation of knowledge is understood as a calculated
act to convey a particular view of the empirical world. More
importantly, in the last line of the quoted paragraph, the authors of
*Xici* clearly explain the goal of this production of
knowledge. They see the system of signs as a tool to help readers
maximize fortune, minimize misfortune, assuage remorse, and avoid
humiliation. In other words, the system of signs is intended to assist
readers to make decisions to improve their lives, rather than to mimic
realities of the world.



In another passage, this deliberate act of representation is even more
explicit. In *Xici* I:12, we find a soliloquy of the Master
(presumably Confucius) who questions the efficacy of words and images
in conveying reality:



> 
> 
> The Master said: Writing cannot express words completely. Words cannot
> express thoughts completely. Are we then unable to see the thoughts of
> the holy sages?
> 
> 
> 
> The Master said: The holy sages set up the images in order to express
> their thoughts completely; they devised the hexagrams in order to
> express the true and the false completely. Then they appended
> judgements and so could express their words completely. (*Xici*
> I:12; WB67: 322)
> 
> 
> 



Through the Master, the authors of *Xici* assert that the
trigrams and hexagrams express the thoughts of their creators and not
reflect the reality of the outside world. Similarly, the hexagram
statements (or Judgments) are not summaries of empirical facts but
suggestions of taking appropriate actions to solve pressing problems
in life.



To followers of Cassirer's philosophy of symbolic forms, the
argument in *Xici* is music to their ears. In his influential
article, "Geist and Life", Cassirer describes human
existence as a constant battle between the vicissitudes of life (Life)
and the symbols that are deployed to make sense of our surroundings
(Form). While the former is "objective", involving
empirical data and concrete facts in the tangible world, the latter is
"subjective", based on artificial schemas that presents a
picture of external reality to the perceivers. For Cassirer, it is
this tension between what is external and internal, factual and
representational, objective and subjective, and realistic and
idealistic, that characterizes creativity in human existence. In this
continuum between Life and Form, and necessity and freedom, Cassirer
urges us to develop our "Will to Formation" to align our
understanding of the world with our system of symbols (Ernest Cassirer
1930 [1996:15-18]). To him, developing the "Will to
Formation" is more important than developing the "Will to
Power", as Nietzsche suggests, because it helps us come to terms
with the plurality, ambiguity, and conflicts in our lives (Cassirer
1930 [1996: 29-33]).



While in principle the authors of *Xici* may accept
Cassirer's active theory of representation, they are totally
committed to trigrams and hexagrams as their preferred system of
signs. Having invested so much in pairing trigrams and hexagrams with
the cosmic great dance, these authors have no intention to include
other systems of symbols to depict the universe, such as the visual
arts, literature, or poetry, as Cassirer recommends (Cassirer 1930
[1996: 34-111]). Herein, perhaps, lies their blind spot. Their
unwavering commitment to trigrams and hexagrams leads them to a blind
alley where they fail to see the value of other systems of signs (such
as the number system that appears in *Xici* I:8).


### 1.4 Rituals



If one just reads the *Shuogua* and the *Xugua*,
divination does not seem to have a role in decision making. However,
in the *Xici*, divination plays an important role in helping
inquirers to make critical decisions. In fact, an extended passage is
devoted to discussing how to perform divination with 50 yarrow stalks
(*Xici* I: 8, more about it later). In addition, the
*Xici* authors identify divination as one of four ways to use
the hexagrams: (1) to use the hexagram statements and line statements
as warnings against danger and downfall; (2) to use the
*Changes* in trigrams and hexagrams to understand the ceaseless
changes in the natural realm and the human realm; (3) to use hexagram
images to enhance rulers' authority; (4) to use divination to
provoke inquirers to think more deeply about their choices
(*Xici* I: 9; WB67: 314). Based on these four-fold uses of
hexagrams, the *Xici* authors highlight the broad appeal of the
*Changes*. It can be a book of "wisdom"
(*zhi* Zhi ) for those who are interested in pondering the
causes and patterns of change; it can be a book of
"kindness" (*ren* Ren ) for those who are
interested in improving the political order; it can be a book of
"life" (*riyong* Ri Yong ) for those who
just want to live, overcome obstacles, and make fewer mistakes
(*Xici* I: 4; WB67: 298).



Recently, Chung-ying Cheng has suggested that we must stop explaining
"the source, the formation, and the system of underlying
philosophy" in interpreting the *Xici*. Rather, we should
look at its philosophy as a sustained discussion about time, location,
and judgment that are derived from the divinatory practices (Cheng
2020: xi-xvi). In other words, instead of seeing divination and
philosophy as categorically exclusive, we see them as a continuum. It
is from divination that we develop an acute sensitivity to the
combined effects of temporal and spatial factors that determine our
judgment. And it is this acute sensitivity to time and space that
gives us the mental resources to develop a strategy to solve problems,
a courage to face challenges, and a determination to overcome fear in
crises.



From this perspective, the discussion of divination in *Xici*
I:8 is revealing. The passage goes as follows:



> 
> 
> The number of the total is fifty. Of these forty-nine are uses. They
> are divided into two portions, to represent the two primal forces.
> Hereupon one is set apart, to represent the three powers. They are
> counted through by fours, to represent the four seasons. The remainder
> is put aside, to represent the intercalary month. There are two
> intercalary months in five years, therefore the putting aside is
> repeated, and this gives us the whole. (WB67: 310-311)
> 
> 
> 



Set in terse language, the rituals include several steps, as Richard
Wilhelm summarizes.



> 
> 
> One takes fifty yarrow stalks, of which only forty-nine are used.
> These forty-nine are first divided into two heaps [at random], then a
> stalk from the right-hand heap is inserted between the ring finger and
> the little finger of the left hand. The left heap is counted through
> by fours, and the remainder (four or less) is inserted between the
> ring finger and the middle finger. This constitutes one change. Now
> one is holding in one's hand either five or nine stalks in all.
> The two remaining heaps are put together, and the same process is
> repeated twice. These second and third times, one obtains either four
> or eight stalks. The five stalks of the first counting and the four of
> each of the succeeding countings are regarded as a unit having the
> number value three; the nine stalks of the first counting and the
> eight of the succeeding countings have the numerical value two. When
> three successive changes produce the sum 3+3+3=9, this makes the old
> yang, i.e., a firm line that moves. The sum 2+2+2=6 makes the old yin,
> a yielding line that moves. Seven is the young yang, and eight the
> young yin; they are not taken into account as individual line. (WB67:
> 311)
> 
> 
> 



The goal of these elaborate and repeated rituals is finding hexagrams
by counting yarrow stalks. In every step of the process, the inquirer
is reminded that his or her action is part of the continual unfolding
of the universe. In the end, the inquirer finds a hexagram from which
he or she can draw lessons. Hence, the purpose of the entire process
is stilling the mind, making one more reflexive, and preparing one to
make critical decisions.



In the final passage of *Xici* II we see a discussion of the
importance of decision making in divination.



> 
> 
> The eight trigrams point the way by means of their images; the words
> accompanying the lines, and the decisions, speak according to the
> circumstances. In that the firm and the yielding are interspersed,
> good fortune and misfortune can be discerned.
> 
> 
> 
> Changes and movements are judged according to the furtherance (that
> they bring). Good fortune and misfortune change according to the
> conditions. Therefore: Love and hate combat each other, and good
> fortune and misfortune result therefrom. The far and the near injure
> each other, and remorse and humiliation result therefrom. The true and
> the false influence each other, and advantage and injury result
> therefrom. In all the situations of the *Changes* it is thus:
> When closely related things do not harmonize, misfortune is the
> result: this gives rise to injury, remorse, and humiliation.
> (*Xici* II: 12; WB67: 355-355)
> 
> 
> 



No matter how we call it--a critical moment, a pivotal juncture,
or a turning point--an inquirer engaged in divination is at a
crossroads in search of a direction. It is a time when the person
feels most vulnerable and perplexed. That person is totally alone in
this challenging situation when there is no precedent to guide him or
her forward, nor are there rule books to help him or her navigate the
complex situation. It is this revealing moment of
"nothingness"--no precedence, no guidance, nothing to
hold on to--that the trigrams and hexagrams are intended to
capture.



Yet, the tone of the authors of *Xici* is decidedly upbeat and
proactive in discussing this moment of "nothingness." They
tell us that when we engage in divination, we can adjust our plans in
accordance with the circumstances, think more broadly and creatively
in searching for solutions, and develop strategies that are outside of
the conventions. The goal of practicing the rituals of divination,
they declare, is to balance the competing claims, and to make the
impossible possible.


## 2. The Commentaries of the *Book of Changes*


### 2.1 The Cosmological Approach



These four aspects of the *Changes* text--the human
finitude, the decision making, the symbols, and the rituals--were
the bases upon which the *Changes* commentators philosophized
change throughout imperial China. Over the two thousand years after
the canonization of the *Changes* in 135 BCE, commentators
developed three distinct approaches toward changes--the
cosmological approach, the rational humanistic approach, and the
divination approach. Now, let us first turn to the cosmology of
change.



After its canonization in 125 BCE, the *Changes* text was
sealed but its meaning continued to grow and expand in the following
two thousand years, as readers repeatedly interpreted the classic to
respond to challenges of their times. By writing commentaries to
explicate the subtle meanings of the *Changes*, readers
developed what Hans-Georg Gadamer calls a "fusion of
horizons" (Gadamer 1989: 3-91; Tracy 1987: 1-27),
where they responded to the "call to attention" from the
*Changes* in finding answers to questions that perplexed them.
Throughout imperial China from the 2nd century BCE to 1911 CE,
whenever there were momentous changes in the socio-political order,
the *Changes* attracted tremendous attention as a living text
that offered insights and inspirations to those who were suppressed,
oppressed, or felt downtrodden.



During the Han Dynasty (202 BCE - 220 CE), when China was first
unified for a long period of time, the dominant trend in interpreting
the *Changes* was the Images and Numbers (*Xiangshu*
Xiang Shu ) School. Focusing on the hexagram images and the
sequence of hexagrams, the Images and Numbers School attracted the
attention of the ruling elite who were preoccupied with building an
eternal empire. For the ruling elite, they felt that they had a
mission to build a socio-political system that not only mimicked the
recurrent pattern of the universe but also responded proactively to
the ebb and flow of cosmic forces (Pines 2009, 2012; Loewe 1994, 2005;
Wang 2000).



What underpinned the Numbers and Images School was a correlative
cosmology. By aligning the hexagrams to depict the ebb and flow of the
cosmic forces, the Numbers and Images School demonstrated what Sarah
Queen calls the "mutual responsiveness of heaven and
humanity" (Queen 1996: 1-53). This mutual responsiveness
was based on two assumptions. First, the cosmos is orderly and stable.
Its orderliness and stability are shown in the regular succession in
time, such as the four seasons, the twelve months, the 365 days.
Second, the same orderliness of the natural world is found in the
human realm in the forms of life cycles, the rhythm of work and rest,
and the rise and fall of family fortunes. Despite the vicissitudes on
the surface, the natural and human worlds are balanced, systematic and
predictable. They are perfect mirrors of each other, such that when
one moves, the other responds.



The goal of correlative cosmology was not to develop a comprehensive
understanding of the universe. Rather, it was to legitimize the
transition "from the concept of imperial sovereignty based on
might into the need to support a claim to rule with intellectual
sanctions" (Loewe 1994: 121-41). Thus, the emperor was
said to be the crucial link between the natural and human realms. In
fact, according to the Han scholar Dong Zhongshu
Dong Zhong Shu  (ca. 195-105 BCE), the Chinese
character for king (Wang ) reflected the solemn responsibility of
the emperor (symbolized by the vertical stroke in the middle) for
connecting the three potencies : heaven (*tian*), earth
(*di*) and humankind (*ren*) (Redmond & Hon 2014:
159-61). As such, the emperor was indeed the Son of Heaven
(*tianzi*) who was omnicompetent, omnipotent and omniscient
(Loewe 2011; Queen 1996).



To support absolutism, Han commentators transformed the
*Changes* into a cosmological manual reflecting the ebb and
flow of cosmic forces. They earnestly reorganized the hexagram
sequence to match the cosmic rhythm, demonstrating that the natural
and human realms are one and the same. Although most of the writings
of the Han commentators are lost, in an 8th-9th
century text, *Zhouyi jijie* Zhou Yi Ji Jie 
(A Collection of Explanations on the *Changes of Zhou Dynasty*)
edited by Li Dingzuo Li Ding Zuo , we have glimpses of the
ambition of the Han commentators who spent their lives fathoming the
cosmos and ordering the world (R. Smith 2008: 57-88).



For instance, Jing Fang (77-37 BCE) created the Hexagrams of
Eight Palaces (*ba gong gua*): *Qian*[?],
*Kun* [?], *Zhen* [?], *Xun* [?],
*Kan* [?], *Li* [?], *Gen* [?],
*Dui* [?]. These eight palace hexagrams are the doubles of
the eight trigrams. For Jing, each of these palace hexagrams leads a
group of seven hexagrams. For example, *Qian* [?] leads
[?], [?], [?], [?], [?], [?], [?].
In this new alignment of hexagrams, there is both a steady increase or
decrease of the *yin* and *yang* cosmic forces, and the
the hidden power of the two forces even when they are dormant (for the
new sequence of 64 hexagrams based on eight palaces, see Nielson 2003:
3).



Another new sequence of hexagrams was the "waning and waxing
hexagrams" (*xiaoxi gua* Xiao Xi Gua )
perfected by Yu Fan (164-233). Representing the ebb and flow of
the *yin* and *yang* cosmic forces, the "waning
and waxing hexagrams" go as follows:




*Fu*
  

[?][24]
 -


*Lin*
  

[?][19]
 -


*Tai*
  

[?][11]
 -


*Dazhuang*
  

[?][34]
 -


*Guai*
  

[?][43]
 -


*Qian*
  

[?][1]
 -


*Gou*
  

[?][44]
 -


*Dun*
  

[?][33]
 -


*Pi*
  

[?][12]
 -


*Guan*
  

[?][20]
 -


*Bo*
  

[?][23]
 -


*Kun*
  

[?][2]
 -


(back to *Fu*)



When reading from *Fu* to *Qian*, the *yang*
force gradually increases while the *yin* force decreases. When
reading from *Gou* to *Kun*, the *yin* force
increases while the *yang* force decreases. As a system, the
twelve hexagrams are continuous. When the series ends with
*Kun*, it begins anew with *Fu* (Nielson 2003:
275-76).



By developing these new hexagram sequences, the Han *Changes*
commentators wanted to achieve two goals. First, they freed themselves
from the original sequence of the 64 hexagrams that was, to them,
incoherent and inconsistent. To the Han commentators, the problem of
the original sequence was its failure in lining up hexagrams in
accordance with their graphic images. By creating new sequences, the
Han scholars were able to match perfectly the hexagram images with the
ebb and flow of cosmic forces (Redmond & Hon 2014: 159-163).
Second, with the new sequences, the Han commentators were better
equipped to synchronize the hexagrams with the lunar calendar, showing
a direct correspondence between the ebb and flow of the cosmic forces
and the cycles of life in human society (R. Smith 2008: 62-77).
For instance, the "waning and waxing hexagrams" were
assigned to represent months in the lunar calendar (Nielson 2003:
275-76):




|  |  |  |
| --- | --- | --- |
| *Fu* | [?] | the eleventh month |
| *Lin* | [?] | the twelfth month |
| *Tai* | [?] | the first month of the following year |
| *Dazhuang* | [?] | the second month |
| *Guai* | [?] | the third month |
| *Qian* | [?] | the fourth month |
| *Gou* | [?] | the fifth month |
| *Dun* | [?] | the sixth month |
| *Pi* | [?] | the seventh month |
| *Guan* | [?] | the eighth month |
| *Bo* | [?] | the ninth month |
| *Kun* | [?] | the tenth month |



The same could be done for the hexagrams sequence based on the eight
palaces. By matching the new sequence of the 64 hexagrams with 12
months, the Han commentators allotted eight months to four hexagrams
and four months to eight hexagrams (Nielson 2003: 5).



To Han commentators, while the new hexagram sequences highlighted
certainty in the universe's self-renewal, each hexagram
represented the possibility of coping with the changing environment.
These differing functions addressed a fundamental question in ruling a
huge empire: How to formulate flexible policies while keeping a
semblance of unity and uniformity? To give themselves flexibility in
interpreting hexagrams, the Han commentators created new interpretive
strategies. One common strategy called for linking one hexagram to
four hexagrams. Take, for instance, *Qian* [?] (The
Creative, #1). To interpret the hexagram, one can link it to its
opposite, *Kun* [?] (The Receptive, #2), known as
"laterally linked hexagrams" (*pangtong*) (Nielson
2003: 185-88). In addition, *Qian* can also be read along
with its preceding hexagram and following hexagram in accordance with
the sequence of the "waning and waxing hexagrams". So,
*Qian* can be read in relation to *Guai* [?]
(Resolution, #43), its antecedent, and *Gou* [?]
(Encounter, #44), its posterior. And then, within a hexagram, one can
also create "interlocking trigrams" (*hugua* or
*huti*), that is, using four or five of the hexagram lines to
form two new trigrams (Nielson 2003: 111-14). In the case
of*Qian*, it is not possible to create "interlocking
trigrams" due to all six lines being *yang*. But in other
cases, the "interlocking trigrams" are significant in
deciphering the meaning of a hexagram. Take, for instance, *Ge*
[?] (Radical Change, #49). Its second, third, and fourth lines
form a *Sun* trigram  and its third, four, and fifth
form a *Qian* trigram  Combining *Sun* and
*Qian* forms *Gou* [?] (Encounter, #44).



Another strategy of expanding the scope of interpretation was to turn
a hexagram into a different one by transposing some of its lines.
Known as "changing the positions of hexagram lines"
(*yiwei*), this strategy allowed Han scholars to introduce
other hexagrams when having problems interpreting a hexagram. For
instance, *Tai* [?] (Peace, #11) can become *Jiji*
[?] (Ferrying Complete #63) by transposing its second line (a
*yang*) and its fifth line (a *yin*). Likewise,
*Dazhuang* [?] (Great Strength, #34) can turn into
*Xu* [?] (Waiting, #5) by switching its fourth line (a
*yang*) and its fifth line (a *yin*). Much more
versatile than other methods, the transposition of hexagram lines gave
Han commentators the liberty to inject a broad range of alternatives
when interpreting a hexagram.



Thus, by giving themselves flexibility in interpreting hexagrams, the
Han commentators reaffirmed the orderliness, stability, and
predictability of the cosmic and human realms. They transformed the
*Changes* into a cosmological manual to match the rhythm of
cosmic forces. In doing so, the Han commentators suppressed and
externalized the human fear of uncertainty. They suppressed fear by
focusing attention on the repeated rhythm of the universe, as
evidenced by the seasonal changes and the passage of time from month
to month. They externalized fear by concentrating on the grand scheme
of the universe's renewal that did not seem to give room to
uncertainty or rupture. More importantly, by matching the cosmic realm
with the human rhythm, they created an illusion that the
*Changes* was a ruler's playbook to fathom the cosmos and
order the world (Ch'en 1986: 798-801; R. Smith 2008:
62-88).


### 2.2 The Rational Humanistic Approach



But the fall of the Han dynasty in 220 CE reveals a fundamental
problem of correlative cosmology, namely, human beings are incapable
of fully discerning the cosmic pattern, nor can they completely apply
the cosmic pattern to human affairs. Even if they tried to mimic the
cosmic rhythm in governing the human world, the human world is far too
complicated for anyone to handle. In the following seven hundred
years, *Changes* scholars retreated from fathoming the cosmos.
Instead, they turned their attention to ordering the human world and
looked for its deep structure.



The major figure who started this turn to the human world was Wang Bi
Wang Bi  (226-249). Born six years after the collapse of
the Han dynasty, Wang Bi was thrown into a situation in which there
seemed to be few certainties in life. With China divided into three
separate kingdoms--the Wei, the Shu, and the Wu--there was
widespread disorder in the country. When everything was in ruin, fewer
and fewer people followed the Confucian precepts of honesty, loyalty,
and filial piety. Instead, trickery, usurpation and pragmatic
calculation became the accepted strategies for survival. Apparently,
Wang Bi's experience after the collapse of the Han dynasty
brought him face to face with fear and anxiety--the two recurrent
themes in the *Changes* (Hon 2010). Before his premature death
at the age of 23, Wang wrote a commentary on the *Changes*
along with a commentary on the *Laozi*. Attached to his
*Changes* commentary, the *Zhouyi zhu*
Zhou Yi Zhu  (A Commentary on the *Zhou Changes*),
were seven essays in which he discussed how to read the classic. In
these essays (rendered as "General Remarks on the *Changes of
the Zhou*" by Richard John Lynn, see Lynn 1994:
25-39), he revisited themes that had been discussed in the
*Xici*, including what a hexagram symbolizes and what the six
lines of a hexagram tell us about human existence. In these essays, he
presented a notion of change that was completely new.



First and foremost, unlike the Han commentators, Wang Bi did not
consider the hexagram sequence as important. Instead, he regards each
of the 64 hexagrams as a discrete situation. Furthermore, he points
out that the uniqueness of each hexagram is succinctly summarized in
*Tuan* (one of the "Ten Wings"), such as
*Zhun* [?] (Difficulty at the Beginning #3) discusses the
difficulty when someone starts an endeavor, *Meng* [?]
(Youthful Folly, #4) focuses on how a teacher hone his or her skills
in teaching; *Xu* [?] (Waiting #5) suggests a pause to
reflect on one's precarious situation ("Ming Tuan",
Lynn 1994: 25-27). As such, readers do not have to strictly
follow the hexagram sequence in reading hexagrams. They can pick and
choose hexagrams that appear to directly address questions in mind. No
matter which hexagrams they pick, the key point is to see a hexagram
as a field of action where different forces or players interact.



In his essay "Ming Xiang" Ming Xiang  (Clarifying the
Images), Wang Bi explains why he wants to change the way of reading
the *Yijing*. He writes:



> 
> 
> Images are the means to express ideas. Words are the means to explain
> the images. To yield up ideas completely, there is nothing better than
> the images, and to yield up the meaning of images, there is nothing
> better than words. The words are generated by the images, thus one can
> ponder the words and so observe what the images are. The images are
> generated by ideas, thus one can ponder the images and so observe what
> the ideas are. The ideas are yielded up completely by the images, and
> the images are made explicit by the words. Thus since the words are
> the means to explain the images, once one gets the images, he forgets
> the words, and since the images are the means to allow us to
> concentrate on the ideas, once one gets the ideas, he forgets the
> images. (Lynn 1994: 31)
> 
> 
> 



Here, Wang Bi is criticizing the Han exegetes for believing a direct
correspondence exists between symbols and reality, words and
referents. For him, the Han exegetes are doomed to failure in using
the 64 hexagrams to match the unfolding of the universe. Given the
scope and scale of the universe, whatever system of knowledge that the
Han exegetes create will not be able to include all the animate and
inanimate beings, nor can it capture the fluidity and diversity in the
constant transformation in the universe. Furthermore, the repeated
patterns that the Han exegetes identify are merely what human beings
observe or experience; they are not the "real cosmic
patterns" that the universe follows, as the frequent appearance
of anomalies, calamities, disasters, and unexplained events
demonstrate. For this reason, Wang Bi suggested that "once one
gets the images, he forgets the words" (*dexiang zai
wangyan* De Xiang Zai Wang Yan ) and "once
one gets the ideas, he forgets the images" (*deyi er
wangxiang* De Yi Er Wang Xiang ).



In the latter part of the essay, Wang borrows the Zhuangzi metaphors
of "rabbit snares" (*ti* Ti ) and "fish
trap" (*quan* Quan ) to underscore the need to look at
reality without being distracted by words or images. He writes:



> 
> 
> Similarly, the rabbit snare exists for the sake for the rabbit; once
> one gets the rabbit, he forgets the snare. And the fish trap exists
> for the sake of fish; once one gets the fish, he gets the trap. If
> this is so, then the words are snares for the images, and the images
> are traps for the ideas. (Lynn 1994: 31)
> 
> 
> 



For Wang Bi, "images" (*xiang* Xiang ) are traps
because they give us a false sense of reality, confusing a
representation of reality with the reality itself. Particularly in the
Han period, the commentators of the *Changes* deployed the
hexagrams to depict the rise and fall Yin and Yang forces, as if the
sequence of hexagrams could accurately map the unfolding of the
universe. In a sarcastic tone, Wang questions the effectiveness of
using the hexagrams to mimic the cosmic patterns. He writes:



> 
> 
> If the lines really do fit with the idea of compliance, why is it
> necessarily that hexagram *Kun* Kun  (The Receptive, #2)
> represent only the cow; and if its concept really corresponds to the
> idea of dynamism, why is it necessary that hexagram *Qian*
> Gan  (The Creative, #1) represent only the horse? (Lynn 1994:
> 32)
> 
> 
> 



Worse still, when the matching of hexagrams with the unfolding of the
universe did not work, the Han exegetes created even more methods,
such as "overlapping trigrams" and "trigram
change", to make the correspondence look tenable (Lynn 1994:
32). For Wang Bi, when more of these methods are created, more gaps
and exceptions will appear in human systems of knowledge, showing
their falsity and inadequacy.



Wang Bi's goal in critiquing the Han exegetes was to put forward
a new method of reading the text. Rather than creating a system of
human knowledge that matched the vast scope and scale of the universe,
Wang suggested that we should accept the limit of our
knowledge--namely, we only know what we can know. We know that
the universe is a totality, but we can only apprehend its grand unity
in our daily life and through our surroundings. Because of our
finitude, we should see hexagrams as symbols helping us to link with
the universe. They are pointers, in the form of temporal-spatial
grids, that reveal the totality of the universe in the concrete
situation of our life. As such, whichever hexagram is picked, it will
provoke a conversation between the symbol and the reader, allowing the
reader to see the field of action in front of him.



Thus, for Wang Bi, the purpose of reading hexagrams is to reflect on
one's situation (see "*Mingyao tongbian*"
Ming Yao Tong Bian , Lynn 1994: 27-29). The six
lines of a hexagram--even a bad one like *Gu* [?]
(Ills to Be Cured, #18)--offer options to respond to a situation.
They represent the room to maneuver within a system or the
possibilities of altering an existing power structure. Precisely in
this juncture that exists between what is already set and what can be
changed, Wang Bi sees the fluidity of human affairs. With proper
action, one can turn what appears to be a failure into a blessing.
Conversely, lacking appropriate action, one can make what appears to
be flourishing into a disaster.



For this reason, Wang Bi does not find the inauspicious hexagram
*Sun* [?] (Diminution, #41) terribly frightening (Lynn
1994: 387-96). Judging from its hexagram image and line
statements, *Sun* suggests a situation where those who are high
up take advantage of those who are in lower positions, or those who
are physically strong victimize those who are weak. Yet, despite the
injustice denoted in the hexagram, Wang Bi believes there is still
room for optimism. "Supreme good fortune" will come, he
declares, if someone finds ways to benefit the public. Similarly, the
"oppressions" in hexagram *Kun* [?] (Impasse,
#47) are avoidable (Lynn 1994: 428-37). Judging from its line
statements, *Kun* is hopeless. All of its six lines are plagued
with some form of oppression: the first line is buried under a barren
tree, the second line is burdened with excessive drinking and eating,
the third line is caught in rocks, the fourth line is locked in a
golden carriage, the fifth line is bullied by a man with purple knee
bands, and the sixth line is wrapped by creeping vines. Yet Wang Bi
argues that by making the right decision one can reverse what seems to
be an oppressive situation into an opportunity for growth and
advancement.



By stressing human agency and activism, Wang Bi sees hexagrams as
pointers, directing our attention to the source of human creativity
and ingenuity. As pointers, hexagrams and hexagram lines serve
different functions. While a hexagram connotes a field of action, the
six hexagram lines stand for the six players (or the six options) in
that field of action (see "*Minggua shibian
tongyao*" Ming Gua Shi Bian Tong Yao ,
Lynn 1994: 29-31). Symbolizing the whole, a hexagram represents
a web of relations governing the actions and interactions of the six
players. Symbolizing the parts, hexagram lines represent what the six
players can or cannot do to advance their interests. Hence, in reading
hexagrams, *Changes* readers are constantly reminded that every
aspect of human life, big or small, is governed by the part-whole
relationship. To cope with change, Wang Bi asserts, we must find out
the part-whole relationship in each given situation--be it in
family, society, or a solitary quest for spiritual communion with
nature.



With the different functions of hexagrams and hexagram lines in mind,
we can understand why Wang Bi stresses the mutual dependency of
somethingness (*you* You ) and nothingness (*wu*
Wu ) in his commentary on *Xici* 1.8 as preserved by Han
Kangbo Han Kang Bo  (332-380 CE). As discuss
earlier, *Xici* 1.8 describes an elaborate process to select a
hexagram by counting 50 yarrow stalks. Known as "the number of
Great Expansion" (*dayan zhi shu*
Da Yan Zhi Shu ), the selection begins with the
diviner separating the 50 yarrow stalks into two piles: (a) a group of
49 stalks that will be used to select a hexagram, and (b) an unused
stalk that will be set aside in the rest of the divination procedure.
Wang Bi views the group of 49 stalks as somethingness and the unused
stalk as nothingness. He writes:



> 
> 
> After expanding the numbers of heaven and earth, we find that the ones
> that are of benefit to us number fifty, and of these we actually use
> forty-nine, thus leaving one unused. Although this one is not used,
> yet through it the use of the other numbers becomes readily possible,
> and although this one is not one of the numbers, yet through it the
> other numbers are formed. As this one represents the supreme ultimate
> of change, the other forty-nine constitute the ultimate of numbers.
> Nothingness cannot be brought to light by means of nothingness but
> must take place through somethingness. Therefore, by applying
> ourselves constantly to this ultimate among things that have
> somethingness, we shall surely bring to light the primogenitor from
> which all things derive. (Lynn 1994: 60-61; translation
> modified)
> 
> 
> 



In his comments, Wang Bi cleverly turns the discussion of divination
into a meditation on the co-dependence of somethingness and
nothingness. He argues that somethingness depends on nothingness
because the forty-nine yarrow stalks become useful only when they are
utilized in casting a hexagram. Conversely, nothingness cannot fulfill
itself without somethingness because there is no way to perform a
divination without the 49 yarrow stalks. Representing the practice of
divination, nothingness gives the purpose, the unity, and the
coherence to the act of throwing of the 49 yarrow stalks. Representing
the actual steps of casting a hexagram by throwing the yarrow stalks,
somethingness makes divination possible.



An analogy would be a performance of Beethoven's fifth symphony.
As members of the audience, we see musicians playing notes under the
baton of a conductor. As listeners, we hear Beethoven's music
that is invisible and ineffable yet transcends everything that happens
on stage. Here, the key point is the mutual dependency of the tangible
and intangible, what we see and what we hear. Without
Beethoven's music (a structure of notes), there would not have
been a performance of the fifth symphony. Conversely, without a
performance by an orchestra in front of an audience, Beethoven's
scores remain but scribbles on paper--a potentiality that is
untapped and unrealized.



One may argue that Wang Bi's reading of the hexagrams limits the
*Changes* to concrete human affairs. Unlike the Han dynasty
commentators, Wang had little interest in cosmology and rejected any
attempt to match the cosmic and human realms. But in seeing the
hexagrams as temporal-spatial grids, Wang reminds us that the
*Changes* is meant to be read metaphorically. In focusing on
the hexagrams as pointers--pointing toward something hidden,
implicit, yet fundamental in time and space--he avoids the
pitfall of the Han dynasty commentators who turned the
*Changes* into a copious system of signs to document the
multifarious changes in the universe. For him, the Han dynasty
commentators' attempt is futile because they do not accept the
basic tenet of the *Changes*--the limits of human
knowledge.



In returning to the root of the *Changes* as symbols, Wang Bi
directs readers' attention to the metaphorical significance of
the hexagrams. As pointers, hexagrams help readers develop a mental
picture of their surroundings, allowing them to sort out the
opportunities as well as the limitations in each given situation.
Hexagrams also expand readers' horizons by directing their
attention from what is near to what is distant, from what is apparent
to what is concealed. Above all, they give readers hope by showing the
infinite possibilities of changing our lives if we pay careful
attention to our surroundings.



On this score, Wang Bi is right that the *Changes* is simple
but profound. Its symbols appear to be simple but the message they
carry is profound. The profundity of the *Changes* lies in the
fact that the book not only offers hope and encouragement in facing
the challenges of life, but it also stresses human agency and activism
in coming to terms with serendipity and uncertainty. With a critical
assessment of our surroundings through a reading of hexagrams, we are
empowered to turn what appears to be a failure into a blessing, or an
impasse into a test of character. We live because we are ready to take
charge of our lives. We live because we have (in Paul Tillich's
words) the "courage to be" as part of the whole and as
oneself (Tillich 1952: 86-147).


### 2.3 The Divination Approach



Wang Bi's *Changes* commentary became the standard for
interpreting the classic throughout mid-imperial China. Its august
status was confirmed by the state-approved *Zhouyi zhengyi*
Zhou Yi Zheng Yi  (The True Meanings of the *Zhou
Changes*) edited by Kong Yingda Kong Ying Da 
(574-648). Throughout the Tang dynasty (618-907) and the
Song dynasty (960-1126), knowledge of Wang Bi's
*Changes* commentary was tested in civil service examinations.
Its longevity as the standard *Changes* commentary indicated
consensus among the Chinese elite that attention must be paid to
solving the pressing problems in the country rather than building an
eternal empire that mimicked the cosmic rhythm (Hon 2004, 2005; R.
Smith 2008: 89-139).



However, while Wang Bi criticized the Han commentators for being
overly ambitious in blending the natural and human realms, he was also
overly ambitious in using human reason to discern the hidden principle
of human affairs. Whereas Han commentators suppressed and externalized
the human fear of uncertainty, Wang also suppressed and externalized
the same fear. In viewing hexagrams as fields of action, he suppressed
the fear by absorbing it into part-whole relations in human affairs.
By turning hexagrams into pointers, he externalized the fear by
connecting it to a search for the principle of change in the rises and
falls of human life. In the end, both the Han scholars and Wang Bi
were hubristic in assuming they were omniscient.



In contrast, Zhu Xi Zhu Xi  (1130-1200)--a key
figure of the Cheng-Zhu School of Neo-Confucianism of late imperial
China--argued that the "original meaning"
(*benyi* Ben Yi ) of *Changes* was divination.
On the surface of it, Zhu Xi's argument seemed redundant. It had
been well-known that the first two layers of the classics were oracles
originating from the Western Zhou period. But Zhu Xi's point was
that for more than a thousand years since the canonization of the
*Changes*, the classic had never been read properly as a
divination manual. For this reason, Zhu Xi believed that the true
meaning of *Changes* lay in the imagery of the 64 hexagrams. To
distinguish the 64 hexagrams from the Ten Wings, Zhu Xi created two
separate categories in his commentary, the *Zhouyi benyi*
Zhou Yi Ben Yi  (The Original Meaning of the *Zhou
Changes*). One category was the "classic"
(*jing* Jing ) which covered the 64 hexagrams; the other the
"commentarial materials" (*zhuan* Chuan ) which
included the Ten Wings. With these two categories, Zhu made clear that
the Ten Wings were at best supplementary materials in understanding
the hexagrams.



Underlying his view was a different understanding of the formation of
the *Changes*. Unlike other *Changes* commentators, Zhu
did not see the classic as an evolution from divination to philosophy.
For him, the sixty-four hexagrams are the foundation of the
*Changes* because they are symbols of the constant changes in
the natural and human worlds. This pictorial depiction of
transformation--started by Fu Xi and completed by King Wen and
the Duke of Zhou--was later turned into a discussion of cosmology
and morality by Confucian scholars. As a result, the *Changes*
ceased to be a pictorial description of the awesome and awe-inspiring
transformation in the universe; it became merely another text (like
the *Book of Poetry* and the *Book of History* in the
Confucian canon) that taught morality to kings, nobles and government
officials (Hon 2008).



By privileging Fu Xi's hexagrams over Confucius's Ten
Wings, Zhu Xi wanted to achieve two goals. First, he underscored the
importance of divination as a method of self-cultivation. For him,
divination is not a superstitious act of seeking guidance from a
supernatural power. Rather, it is an enriching experience of
encountering the unknown and unfathomable. In the process of
divination, one faces the multiple forces that shape human life, and
thereby becomes aware of the opportunities and resources for improving
one's situation. As Joseph Adler observes, divination is
"a way of learning" to Zhu Xi because it helps learners
"'respond' (*ying*) to
'incipient' change (*chi*), both in external events
and in the mind" (Adler 1990: 190). Second, by focusing on the
visual imagery of the hexagrams, Zhu Xi saw the *Changes* as
significantly different from other Confucian classics. Rather than
limiting to kings, nobles and government officials, the
*Changes* appeals to a broad audience who, literate or
illiterate, are concerned with uncertainties in life (Hon 2011).



For this reason, Zhu Xi emphasized the ambiguity of line statements.
To highlight their ambiguity, he divided the line statements into two
separate utterances: a summary of the image of the hexagram line, and
a prognostication based on a careful consideration of the image of the
hexagram line. By dividing a line statement into two parts, Zhu Xi
turns a line statement into a dialogue between the oracle's
calling to attention and the reader's response. In this
hermeneutical circle, nothing is certain or preordained. The
conversation can lead in many directions, sometimes predictable and
sometimes unpredictable.



On the surface of it, like Wang Bi, Zhu Xi appears to use the
*Changes* to provoke readers to reflect on their surroundings.
However, there is one fundamental difference. For Zhu Xi, a reading of
the *Changes* does not necessarily answer all questions or
solve all problems. Rather, it heightens the reader's
sensitivity to the uncertainty and serendipity of human existence. For
instance, *Ge* Ge  [?] (Radical Change, #49) and
*Ding* Ding  [?] (The Cauldron, #50) are known for
highlighting the anxiety and fear in a drastic political change. In
*Ge*, the reader is encouraged to lead a revolt against a
tyrant ruler who is causing harm to the public. To underscore the
urgency of addressing the political crisis, the revolt is compared to
the renewal of lives in seasonal changes; it is paired with the
pivotal event of the Shang dynasty being replaced by the Zhou dynasty.
Above all, it is described as a timely intervention in human affairs
to restore order for the benefit of the masses (for a translation of
*Ge*, see WB67: 189-192). While *Ge* advocates a
regime change, *Ding* demands the restoration of political
order immediately following the revolt. Graphically, the six lines of
*Ding* [?] resemble a cauldron--the bottom line
represents the legs of the cauldron; the second to fourth lines
symbolize the belly of the cauldron; the fifth line denotes the ears
of the cauldron, and the top line suggests the bar that carries the
cauldron from place to place. Thus, the reader is encouraged to clean
the cauldron to make food, or, in the aftermath of a regime change, to
immediately re-establish the political order (for a translation of
*Ding*, see WB67: 195-97).



For centuries, the *Changes*'s commentators heeded the
*Xugua* authors' advice to read *Ge* and
*Ding* together as two phases of a regime change (see WB67:
635, 641). While *Ge* discusses the destructive phase of
toppling an old regime, *Ding* refers to the constructive phase
of rebuilding the political order. The two hexagrams jointly call
attention to the danger of political corruption, the fear of a tyrant,
and the anxiety of losing control amid political upheaval. More
important, the two hexagrams highlight the importance of making the
right decision amidst power struggles. For this reason, through the
centuries, *Ge* and *Ding* received special attention
from commentators who were interested in political philosophy (see,
for instance, Wang Bi's commentary in Lynn 1994:
444-59).



For Zhu Xi, however, there was no need to connect *Ge* with
*Ding*. Instead, he sees them as separate situations where
readers can ask different questions and express different concerns.
For him, the anxiety and fear in the *Changes* appear not in
the hexagram sequence, but in the dialogue between the oracle and the
reader. To downplay the political connotations of these two hexagrams,
Zhu Xi stresses the intensity of the oracle-reader dialogue. Take, for
example, the hexagram statement of *Ge* which seems to suggest
the possibility of "the disappearance of remorse" after
political change. For Zhu, there is no way to tell whether "the
disappearance of remorse" is possible without considering the
reader's situation. If the reader is doing the right things,
then remorse will automatically disappear. But if the reader is making
a mistake, remorse will remain. Hence, "the disappearance of
remorse" is provisional; whether the oracle will come true rests
in reader's motive, sincerity and action. Similarly, "the
disappearance of remorse" in the fourth line of *Ge* is
provisional as well. Traditionally, the fourth line is read as a
leader ready to lead a political change. For Zhu Xi, the fourth line
does not look like a situation ripe for political change. Rather, he
sees "the disappearance of remorse" as a warning against
rushing to make drastic changes (Hon 2008).



Likewise, Zhu Xi does not see in *Ding* a roadmap to form a new
regime. Instead, he sees each line of *Ding* as a separate
situation challenging the *Changes* reader. For instance, in
the first *yin* line, Zhu Xi is not worried about the
line's peripheral position. Rather, he is interested in the
prognostication which indicates that the line is "without
remorse" (*wujiu* Wu Jiu ). In his comments, Zhu
Xi focuses on the subtle meaning of "without remorse" and
urges the reader to be positive about the future. He tells the reader
that "without remorse" is a result of the first
line's determination to come back from behind and its will to
succeed despite its humble position (Hon 2008).



Ultimately, for Zhu Xi, all the *Changes* oracles are
provisional. Their goal is to provoke thought, command attention, and
above all, make readers aware of the contingency of human existence.
By highlighting fear and anxiety in reading hexagrams, Zhu Xi
incorporated the *Changes* into his Neo-Confucian
project--an endeavor, he hoped, that would lead to the triumph of
the pure and perceptive "mind of the Dao" (*daoxin*
Dao Xin ) over the perturbed and perverse "human
mind" (*renxin* Ren Xin ). To develop a Confucian
moral-metaphysics, Zhu Xi turned to the split second of decision
making as a battle ground of one's moral cultivation. In that
split second, Zhu Xi claimed, the human mind is deeply torn between
"the mind of the *Dao*" and "the human
mind", and between "the heavenly principle"
(*tianli*) and "human desires" (*renyu)*
(Adler 2014; Tu 1985: 131-48). In this mental battle, the
*Changes* reader is put into a moral-metaphysical journey. The
hexagrams give the readers hope without losing sight of the immense
challenge of overcoming mishaps and failure. They promise success if
readers find the means to tame their searching minds and to counter
the distractions in their lives. Above all, they give spiritual depth
to the readers' moral struggle, turning it into a battle ground
between following the dictates of the flesh, or elevating oneself to
form a "trinity with heaven and earth".



In this way, Zhu Xi opened the *Changes* to a wide range of
audience. By focusing on divination and the symbolism of the 64
hexagrams, Zhu Xi made the *Changes* relevant to readers who
might not be well educated. While it remained a canonical text, it was
transformed into "a book of life" for common people who
struggled daily to make the right decision between the purity of
"the heavenly principle" and the perversion of
"human desires" (Hon 2012). From the Ming dynasty
(1368-1644) to the Qing dynasty (1644-1911), Zhu
Xi's interpretation of the *Changes* was promoted by the
imperial government. It was included in the state-approved
*Changes* commentaries, the *Zhouyi daquan*
Zhou Yi Da Quan  (The Compendium of Cheng Yi's
and Zhu Xi's Commentaries on the *Zhou* Changes) of the
Ming dynasty, and the *Zhouyi zhezhong*
Zhou Yi Zhe Zhong  (Balanced Annotations of the *Zhou
Changes*) of the Qing dynasty.


## 3. Face Changes with Courage and Dignity



On the surface, these three approaches--the cosmological
approach, the rational humanistic approach, and the divination
approach--appear to steadily narrow the scope of philosophizing
change. They seem to continuously move away from the cosmos to the
human world, and from the human world to an individual's moral
cogitations. One may even say that in this narrowing of the scope, we
see a retreat from the empirical to the intellectual, and from the
objective to the subjective.



Yet, in their own ways, these three approaches offer answers to the
human anxiety over uncertainty. They give hope to readers by
transforming the trigrams and hexagrams into symbols to discuss the
human roles in the unfolding of the universe (Cheng 2003; Cheng &
Ng 2009; Redmond & Hon 2014: 140-57; R. Smith 2008:
31-48). Together, they make three arguments:


* Because the universe is an open system that is self-generative and
self-transformative, we must live with ceaseless change;
* Because changes take place all the time, we must find ways to
understand their patterns and to navigate their complexity;
* In every moment, we must be ready to make difficult decisions in
order to find peace and comfort in life.



By emphasizing our need to make difficult decisions in the world of
constant changes, the authors of *Changes* are not suggesting
us to be over-worried. Rather, they remind us of our limited ability
in understanding the complexity and fluidity of our world. After
honestly accepting our finitude, the authors of *Changes*
suggest us to be active and aggressive in reshaping our situation.
Here, the turnaround rests on our wisdom of knowing what we can and
cannot do. We must remain humble and circumspective in our every step.
But based on what we know, we make plans to gradually improve our
environment. Like a droplet, we rise and fall with the wave of the
ocean. Since both the objective reality and the subjective condition
are perpetually shifting, the moment of finding a harmonious
integration between attainable and unattainable is always transient.
When either the objective reality and the subjective condition
changes, or worse still, both of them change, the whole equilibrium is
upset, and the process of searching for a new equilibrium has to begin
anew. On this note, that is no better ending to the *Changes*
than hexagram *Weiji* Wei Ji  ([?]  Ferrying
Incomplete, #64) because the act of balancing the competing claims and
finding certainty in an uncertain world are going to be continuous
without end.



For us today, this philosophy of change is refreshing and energizing
because it encourages us to be spontaneous, creative, and experimental
in coping with the complexity in life. It also draws our attention to
the reality of the 21st century world that is dynamic,
fluid, multi-layered, and multi-causal due to the global economy and
the transnational networks of circulation. More importantly, it
reminds us that we are both a subject and an object in making
decisions. On the one hand, we are the products of our environment; on
the other hand, we are active players in reshaping our environment. In
the end, we are who we are--constantly finding our paths in an
ever-changing world.