Introduction
Since I am not a sinologue, a foreword to the Book of Changes
from my hand must be a testimonial of my individual experience
with this great and singular book. It also affords me a welcome
opportunity to pay tribute again to the memory of my late friend,
Richard Wilhelm. He himself was profoundly aware of the cultural
significance of his translation of the I Ching, a version
unrivaled in the West.
If the meaning of the Book of Changes were easy to grasp, the
work would need no foreword. But this is far from being the case,
for there is so much that is obscure about it that Western
scholars have tended to dispose of it as a collection of "magic
spells," either too abstruse to be intelligible, or of no value
whatsoever. Legge's translation of the I Ching, up to now the only
version available in English, has done little to make the work
accessible to Western minds. [1] Wilhelm,
however, has made every effort to open the way to an understanding
of the symbolism of the text. He was in a position to do this
because he himself was taught the philosophy and the use of the I
Ching by the venerable sage Lao Nai-hsüan; moreover, he had over a
period of many years put the peculiar technique of the oracle into
practice. His grasp of the living meaning of the text gives his
version of the I Ching a depth of perspective that an exclusively
academic knowledge of Chinese philosophy could never provide.
I am greatly indebted to Wilhelm for the light he has thrown upon
the complicated problem of the I Ching, and for insight as regards
its practical application as well. For more than thirty years I
have interested myself in this oracle technique, or method of
exploring the unconscious, for it has seemed to me of uncommon
significance. I was already fairly familiar with the I Ching when
I first met Wilhelm in the early nineteen twenties; he confirmed
for me then what I already knew, and taught me many things more.
I do not know Chinese and have never been in China. I can assure
my reader that it is not altogether easy to find the right access
to this monument of Chinese thought, which departs so completely
from our ways of thinking. In order to understand what such a book
is all about, it is imperative to cast off certain prejudices of
the Western mind. it is a curious fact that such a gifted and
intelligent people as the Chinese has never developed what we call
science. Our science, however, is based upon the principle of
causality, and causality is considered to be an axiomatic truth.
But a great change in our standpoint is setting in. What Kant's
Critique of Pure Reason failed to do, is being accomplished by
modern physics. The axioms of causality are being shaken to their
foundations: we know now that what we term natural laws are merely
statistical truths and thus must necessarily allow for exceptions.
We have not sufficiently taken into account as yet that we need
the laboratory with its incisive restrictions in order to
demonstrate the invariable validity of natural law. If we leave
things to nature, we see a very different picture: every process
is partially or totally interfered with by chance, so much so that
under natural circumstances a course of events absolutely
conforming to specific laws is almost an exception.
Synchronicity
The Chinese mind, as I see it at work in the I Ching, seems to be
exclusively preoccupied with the chance aspect of events. What we
call coincidence seems to be the chief concern of this peculiar
mind, and what we worship as causality passes almost unnoticed. We
must admit that there is something to be said for the immense
importance of chance. An incalculable amount of human effort is
directed to combating and restricting the nuisance or danger
represented by chance. Theoretical considerations of cause and
effect often look pale and dusty in comparison to the practical
results of chance. It is all very well to say that the crystal of
quartz is a hexagonal prism. The statement is quite true in so far
as an ideal crystal is envisaged. But in nature one finds no two
crystals exactly alike, although all are unmistakably hexagonal.
The actual form, however, seems to appeal more to the Chinese sage
than the ideal one. The jumble of natural laws constituting
empirical reality holds more significance for him than a causal
explanation of events that, moreover, must usually be separated
from one another in order to be properly dealt with.
The manner in which the I Ching tends to look upon reality seems
to disfavor our causalistic procedures. The moment under actual
observation appears to the ancient Chinese view more of a chance
hit than a clearly defined result of concurring causal chain
processes. The matter of interest seems to be the configuration
formed by chance events in the moment of observation, and not at
all the hypothetical reasons that seemingly account for the
coincidence. While the Western mind carefully sifts, weighs,
selects, classifies, isolates, the Chinese picture of the moment
encompasses everything down to the minutest nonsensical detail,
because all of the ingredients make up the observed moment.
Thus it happens that when one throws the three coins, or counts
through the forty-nine yarrow stalks, these chance details enter
into the picture of the moment of observation and form a part of
it -- a part that is insignificant to us, yet most meaningful to
the Chinese mind. With us it would be a banal and almost
meaningless statement (at least on the face of it) to say that
whatever happens in a given moment possesses inevitably the
quality peculiar to that moment. This is not an abstract argument
but a very practical one. There are certain connoisseurs who can
tell you merely from the appearance, taste, and behavior of a wine
the site of its vineyard and the year of its origin. There are
antiquarians who with almost uncanny accuracy will name the time
and place of origin and the maker of an objet d'art or piece of
furniture on merely looking at it. And there are even astrologers
who can tell you, without any previous knowledge of your nativity,
what the position of sun and moon was and what zodiacal sign rose
above the horizon in the moment of your birth. In the face of such
facts, it must be admitted that moments can leave long-lasting
traces.
In other words, whoever invented the I Ching was convinced that
the hexagram worked out in a certain moment coincided with the
latter in quality no less than in time. To him the hexagram was
the exponent of the moment in which it was cast -- even more so
than the hours of the clock or the divisions of the calendar could
be -- inasmuch as the hexagram was understood to be an indicator
of the essential situation prevailing in the moment of its origin.
This assumption involves a certain curious principle that I have
termed synchronicity, [2] a concept that
formulates a point of view diametrically opposed to that of
causality. Since the latter is a merely statistical truth and not
absolute, it is a sort of working hypothesis of how events evolve
one out of another, whereas synchronicity takes the coincidence of
events in space and time as meaning something more than mere
chance, namely, a peculiar interdependence of objective events
among themselves as well as with the subjective (psychic) states
of the observer or observers.
The ancient Chinese mind contemplates the cosmos in a way
comparable to that of the modern physicist, who cannot deny that
his model of the world is a decidedly psychophysical structure.
The micro-physical event includes the observer just as much as the
reality underlying the I Ching comprises subjective, i.e., psychic
conditions in the totality of the momentary situation. Just as
causality describes the sequence of events, so synchronicity to
the Chinese mind deals with the coincidence of events. The causal
point of view tells us a dramatic story about how D came into
existence: it took its origin from C, which existed before D, and
C in its turn had a father, B, etc. The synchronistic view on the
other hand tries to produce an equally meaningful picture of
coincidence. How does it happen that A', B', C', D', etc., appear
all in the same moment and in the same place? It happens in the
first place because the physical events A' and B' are of the same
quality as the psychic events C' and D', and further because all
are the exponents of one and the same momentary situation. The
situation is assumed to represent a legible or understandable
picture.
Now the sixty-four hexagrams of the I Ching are the instrument by
which the meaning of sixty-four different yet typical situations
can be determined. These interpretations are equivalent to causal
explanations. Causal connection is statistically necessary and can
therefore be subjected to experiment. Inasmuch as situations are
unique and cannot be repeated, experimenting with synchronicity
seems to be impossible under ordinary conditions.[3]
In the I Ching, the only criterion of the validity of
synchronicity is the observer's opinion that the text of the
hexagram amounts to a true rendering of his psychic condition. It
is assumed that the fall of the coins or the result of the
division of the bundle of yarrow stalks is what it necessarily
must be in a given "situation," inasmuch as anything happening in
that moment belongs to it as an indispensable part of the picture.
If a handful of matches is thrown to the floor, they form the
pattern characteristic of that moment. But such an obvious truth
as this reveals its meaningful nature only if it is possible to
read the pattern and to verify its interpretation, partly by the
observer's knowledge of the subjective and objective situation,
partly by the character of subsequent events. It is obviously not
a procedure that appeals to a critical mind used to experimental
verification of facts or to factual evidence. But for someone who
likes to look at the world at the angle from which ancient China
saw it, the I Ching may have some attraction.
An Experimental Question
My argument as outlined above has of course never entered a
Chinese mind. On the contrary, according to the old tradition, it
is "spiritual agencies," acting in a mysterious way, that make the
yarrow stalks give a meaningful answer.[4] These
powers form, as it were, the living soul of the book. As the
latter is thus a sort of animated being, the tradition assumes
that one can put questions to the I Ching and expect to receive
intelligent answers. Thus it occurred to me that it might interest
the uninitiated reader to see the I Ching at work. For this
purpose I made an experiment strictly in accordance with the
Chinese conception: I personified the book in a sense, asking its
judgment about its present situation, i.e., my intention to
present it to the Western mind.
Although this procedure is well within the premises of Taoist
philosophy, it appears exceedingly odd to us. However, not even
the strangeness of insane delusions or of primitive superstition
has ever shocked me. I have always tried to remain unbiased and
curious -- rerum novarum cupidus. Why not venture a dialogue with
an ancient book that purports to be animated? There can be no harm
in it, and the reader may watch a psychological procedure that has
been carried out time and again throughout the millennia of
Chinese civilization, representing to a Confucius or a Lao-tse
both a supreme expression of spiritual authority and a
philosophical enigma. I made use of the coin method, and the
answer obtained was hexagram 50,
Ting, THE CALDRON.
In accordance with the way my question was phrased, the text of
the hexagram must be regarded as though the I Ching itself were
the speaking person. Thus it describes itself as a caldron, that
is, as a ritual vessel containing cooked food. Here the food is to
be understood as spiritual nourishment. Wilhelm says about this:
The ting, as a utensil pertaining to a refined civilization,
suggests the fostering and nourishing of able men, which redounded
to the benefit of the state. . . . Here we see civilization as it
reaches its culmination in religion. The ting serves in offering
sacrifice to God. . . . The supreme revelation of God appears in
prophets and holy men. To venerate them is true veneration of God.
The will of God, as revealed through them, should be accepted in
humility.
Keeping to our hypothesis, we must conclude that the I Ching is
here testifying concerning itself.
When any of the lines of a given hexagram have the value of six
or nine, it means that they are specially emphasized and hence
important in the interpretation.[5] In my
hexagram the "spiritual agencies" have given the emphasis of a
nine to the lines in the second and in the third place. The text
says:
Nine in the second place means:
There is food in the ting. My comrades are envious, But they cannot harm me. Good fortune.
Thus the I Ching says of itself: "I contain (spiritual)
nourishment." Since a share in something great always arouses
envy, the chorus of the envious [6] is part of
the picture. The envious want to rob the I Ching of its great
possession, that is, they seek to rob it of meaning, or to destroy
its meaning. But their enmity is in vain. Its richness of meaning
is assured; that is, it is convinced of its positive achievements,
which no one can take away. The text continues:
Nine in the third place means:
The handle of the ting is altered. One is impeded in his way of life. The fat of the pheasant is not eaten. Once rain falls, remorse is spent. Good fortune comes in the end.
The handle [German Griff] is the part by which the ting can be
grasped [gegriffen]. Thus it signifies the concept [7]
(Begriff) one has of the I Ching (the ting). In the course of time
this concept has apparently changed, so that today we can no
longer grasp (begreifen) the I Ching. Thus "one is impeded in his
way of life." We are no longer supported by the wise counsel and
deep insight of the oracle; therefore we no longer find our way
through the mazes of fate and the obscurities of our own natures.
The fat of the pheasant, that is, the best and richest part of a
good dish, is no longer eaten. But when the thirsty earth finally
receives rain again, that is, when this state of want has been
overcome, "remorse," that is, sorrow over the loss of wisdom, is
ended, and then comes the longed-for opportunity. Wilhelm
comments: "This describes a man who, in a highly evolved
civilization, finds himself in a place where no one notices or
recognizes him. This is a severe block to his effectiveness." The
I Ching is complaining, as it were, that its excellent qualities
go unrecognized and hence lie fallow. It comforts itself with the
hope that it is about to regain recognition.
The answer given in these two salient lines to the question I put
to the I Ching requires no particular subtlety of interpretation,
no artifices, no unusual knowledge. Anyone with a little common
sense can understand the meaning of the answer; it is the answer
of one who has a good opinion of himself, but whose value is
neither generally recognized nor even widely known. The answering
subject has an interesting notion of itself: it looks upon itself
as a vessel in which sacrificial offerings are brought to the
gods, ritual food for their nourishment. It conceives of itself as
a cult utensil serving to provide spiritual nourishment for the
unconscious elements or forces ("spiritual agencies") that have
been projected as gods -- in other words, to give these forces the
attention they need in order to play their part in the life of the
individual. Indeed, this is the original meaning of the word
religio - a careful observation and taking account of (from
relegere [8]) the numinous.
The method of the I Ching does indeed take into account the
hidden individual quality in things and men, and in one's own
unconscious self as well. I have questioned the I Ching as one
questions a person whom one is about to introduce to friends: one
asks whether or not it will be agreeable to him. In answer the I
Ching tells me of its religious significance, of the fact that at
present it is unknown and misjudged, of its hope of being restored
to a place of honor -- this last obviously with a sidelong glance
at my as yet unwritten foreword, [9] and above
all at the English translation. This seems a perfectly
understandable reaction, such as one could expect also from a
person in a similar situation.
But how has this reaction come about? Because I threw three small
coins into the air and let them fall, roll, and come to rest,
heads up or tails up as the case might be. This odd fact that a
reaction that makes sense arises out of a technique seemingly
excluding all sense from the outset, is the great achievement of
the I Ching. The instance I have just given is not unique;
meaningful answers are the rule. Western sinologues and
distinguished Chinese scholars have been at pains to inform me
that the I Ching is a collection of obsolete "magic spells." In
the course of these conversations my informant has sometimes
admitted having consulted the oracle through a fortune teller,
usually a Taoist priest. This could be "only nonsense" of course.
But oddly enough, the answer received apparently coincided with
the questioner's psychological blind spot remarkably well.
I agree with Western thinking that any number of answers to my
question were possible, and I certainly cannot assert that another
answer would not have been equally significant. However, the
answer received was the first and only one; we know nothing of
other possible answers. It pleased and satisfied me. To ask the
same question a second time would have been tactless and so I did
not do it: "the master speaks but once." The heavy-handed
pedagogic approach that attempts to fit irrational phenomena into
a preconceived rational pattern is anathema to me. Indeed, such
things as this answer should remain as they were when they first
emerged to view, for only then do we know what nature does when
left to herself undisturbed by the meddlesomeness of man. One
ought not to go to cadavers to study life. Moreover, a repetition
of the experiment is impossible, for the simple reason that the
original situation cannot be reconstructed. Therefore in each
instance there is only a first and single answer.
To return to the hexagram itself. There is nothing strange in the
fact that all of Ting,
THE CALDRON, amplifies the themes announced by the two
salient lines. [10]
The first line of the hexagram says:
A ting with legs upturned. Furthers removal of stagnating stuff. One takes a concubine for the sake of her son. No blame.
A ting that is turned upside down is not in use. Hence the I
Ching is like an unused caldron. Turning it over serves to remove
stagnating matter, as the line says. Just as a man takes a
concubine when his wife has no son, so the I Ching is called upon
when one sees no other way out. Despite the quasi-legal status of
the concubine in China, she is in reality only a somewhat awkward
makeshift so likewise the magic procedure of the oracle is an
expedient that may be utilized for a higher purpose. There is no
blame, although it is an exceptional recourse.
The second and third lines have already been discussed.
The fourth line says:
The legs of the ting are broken. The prince's meal is spilled And his person is soiled. Misfortune.
Here the ting has been put to use, but evidently in a very clumsy
manner, that is, the oracle has been abused or misinterpreted. In
this way the divine food is lost, and one puts oneself to shame.
Legge translates as follows: "Its subject will be made to blush
for shame." Abuse of a cult utensil such as the ting (i.e., the I
Ching) is a gross profanation. The I Ching is evidently insisting
here on its dignity as a ritual vessel and protesting against
being profanely used.
The fifth line says:
The ting has yellow handles, golden carrying rings. Perseverance furthers.
The I Ching has, it seems, met with a new, correct (yellow)
understanding, that is, a new concept (Begriff) by which it can be
grasped. This concept is valuable (golden). There is indeed a new
edition in English, making the book more accessible to the Western
world than before.
The sixth line says:
The ting has rings of jade. Great good fortune. Nothing that would not act to further.
Jade is distinguished for its beauty and soft sheen. If the
carrying rings are of jade, the whole vessel is enhanced in
beauty, honor, and value. The I Ching expresses itself here as
being not only well satisfied but indeed very optimistic. One can
only await further events and in the meantime remain content with
the pleasant conclusion that the I Ching approves of the new
edition.
I have shown in this example as objectively as I can how the
oracle proceeds in a given case. Of course the procedure varies
somewhat according to the way the question is put. If for instance
a person finds himself in a confusing situation, he may himself
appear in the oracle as the speaker. Or, if the question concerns
a relationship with another person, that person may appear as the
speaker. However, the identity of the speaker does not depend
entirely on the manner in which the question is phrased, inasmuch
as our relations with our fellow beings are not always determined
by the latter. Very often our relations depend almost exclusively
on our own attitudes, though we maybe quite unaware of this fact.
Hence, if an individual is unconscious of his role in a
relationship, there may be a surprise in store for him; contrary
to expectation, he himself may appear as the chief agent, as is
sometimes unmistakably indicated by the text. It may also occur
that we take a situation too seriously and consider it extremely
important, whereas the answer we get on consulting the I Ching
draws attention to some unsuspected other aspect impllcit in the
question.
Such instances might at first lead one to think that the oracle
is fallacious. Confucius is said to have received only one
inappropriate answer, i.e., hexagram 22, GRACE
-- a thoroughly aesthetic hexagram. This is reminiscent of the
advice given to Socrates by his daemon -- "You ought to make more
music" -- whereupon Socrates took to playing the flute. Confucius
and Socrates compete for first place as far as reasonableness and
a pedagogic attitude to life are concerned; but it is unlikely
that either of them occupied himself with "lending grace to the
beard on his chin," as the second line of this hexagram advises.
Unfortunately, reason and pedagogy often lack charm and grace, and
so the oracle may not have been wrong after all.
To come back once more to our hexagram. Though the I Ching not
only seems to be satisfied with its new edition, but even
expresses emphatic optimism, this still does not foretell anything
about the effect it will have on the public it is intended to
reach. Since we have in our hexagram two yang lines stressed by
the numerical value nine, we are in a position to find out what
sort of prognosis the I Ching makes for itself. Lines designated
by a six or a nine have, according to the ancient conception, an
inner tension so great as to cause them to change into their
opposites, that is, yang into yin, and vice versa. Through this
change we obtain in the present instance hexagram 55,
Chin, PROGRESS.
The subject of this hexagram is someone who meets with all sorts
of vicissitudes of fortune in his climb upward, and the text
describes how he should behave. The I Ching is in this same
situation: it rises like the sun and declares itself, but it is
rebuffed and finds no confidence -- it is "progressing, but in
sorrow." However, "one obtains great happiness from one's
ancestress." Psychology can help us to elucidate this obscure
passage. In dreams and fairy tales the grandmother, or ancestress,
often represents the unconscious, because the latter in a man
contains the feminine component of the psyche. If the I Ching is
not accepted by the conscious, at least the unconscious meets it
halfway, and the I Ching is more closely connected with the
unconscious than with the rational attitude of consciousness.
Since the unconscious is often represented in dreams by a feminine
figure, this may be the explanation here. The feminine person
might be the translator, who has given the book her maternal care,
and this might easily appear to the I Ching as a "great
happiness." It anticipates general understanding, but is afraid of
misuse -- "Progress like a hamster." But it is mindful of the
admonition, "Take not gain and loss to heart." It remains free of
"partisan motives." It does not thrust itself on anyone.
The I Ching therefore faces its future on the American book
market calmly and expresses itself here just about as any
reasonable person would in regard to the fate of so controversial
a work. This prediction is so very reasonable and full of common
sense that it would be hard to think of a more fitting answer.
Answer to Doubts
All of this happened before I had written the foregoing
paragraphs. When I reached this point, I wished to know the
attitude of the I Ching to the new situation. The state of things
had been altered by what I had written, inasmuch as I myself had
now entered upon the scene, and I therefore expected to hear
something referring to my own action. I must confess that I had
not been feeling too happy in the course of writing this foreword,
for, as a person with a sense of responsibility toward science, I
am not in the habit of asserting something I cannot prove or at
least present as acceptable to reason. It is a dubious task indeed
to try to introduce to a critical modern public a collection of
archaic "magic spells," with the idea of making them more or less
acceptable. I have undertaken it because I myself think that there
is more to the ancient Chinese way of thinking than meets the eye.
But it is embarrassing to me that I must appeal to the good will
and imagination of the reader, inasmuch as I have to take him into
the obscurity of an age-old magic ritual. Unfortunately I am only
too well aware of the arguments that can be brought against it. We
are not even certain that the ship that is to carry us over the
unknown seas has not sprung a leak somewhere. May not the old text
be corrupt? Is Wilhelm's translation accurate? Are we not
self-deluded in our explanations?
The I Ching insists upon self-knowledge throughout. The method by
which this is to be achieved is open to every kind of misuse, and
is therefore not for the frivolous-minded and immature; nor is it
for intellectualists and rationalists. It is appropriate only for
thoughtful and reflective people who like to think about what they
do and what happens to them -- a predilection not to be confused
with the morbid brooding of the hypochondriac. As I have indicated
above, I have no answer to the multitude of problems that arise
when we seek to harmonize the oracle of the I Ching with our
accepted scientific canons. But needless to say, nothing "occult"
is to be inferred. My position in these matters is pragmatic, and
the great disciplines that have taught me the practical usefulness
of this viewpoint are psychotherapy and medical psychology.
Probably in no other field do we have to reckon with so many
unknown quantities, and nowhere else do we become more accustomed
to adopting methods that work even though for a long time we may
not know why they work. Unexpected cures may arise from
questionable therapies and unexpected failures from allegedly
reliable methods. In the exploration of the unconscious we come
upon very strange things, from which a rationalist turns away with
horror, claiming afterward that he did not see anything. The
irrational fullness of life has taught me never to discard
anything, even when it goes against all our theories (so
short-lived at best) or otherwise admits of no immediate
explanation. It is of course disquieting, and one is not certain
whether the compass is pointing true or not; but security,
certitude, and peace do not lead to discoveries. It is the same
with this Chinese mode of divination. Clearly the method aims at
self-knowledge, though at all times it has also been put to
superstitious use.
I of course am thoroughly convinced of the value of
self-knowledge, but is there any use in recommending such insight,
when the wisest of men throughout the ages have preached the need
of it without success? Even to the most biased eye it is obvious
that this book represents one long admonition to careful scrutiny
of one's own character, attitude, and motives. This attitude
appeals to me and has induced me to undertake the foreword. Only
once before have I expressed myself in regard to the problem of
the I Ching: this was in a memorial address in tribute to Richard
Wilhelm. [11] For the rest I have
maintained a discreet silence. It is by no means easy to feel
one's way into such a remote and mysterious mentality as that
underlying the I Ching. One cannot easily disregard such great
minds as Confucius and Lao-tse, if one is at all able to
appreciate the quality of the thoughts they represent; much less
can one overlook the fact that the I Ching was their main source
of inspiration. I know that previously I would not have dared to
express myself so explicitly about so uncertain a matter. I can
take this risk because I am now in my eighth decade, and the
changing opinions of men scarcely impress me any more; the
thoughts of the old masters are of greater value to me than the
philosophical prejudices of the Western mind.
I do not like to burden my reader with these personal
considerations; but, as already indicated, one's own personality
is very often implicated in the answer of the oracle. Indeed, in
formulating my question I even invited the oracle to comment
directly on my action. The answer was hexagram 29,
K'an, THE ABYSMAL. Special emphasis is given to the third
place by the fact that the line is designated by a six.
This line says:
Forward and backward, abyss on abyss. In danger like this, pause at first and wait, Otherwise you will fall into a pit in the abyss. Do not act in this way.
Formerly I would have accepted unconditionally the advice, "Do
not act in this way," and would have refused to give my opinion of
the I Ching, for the sole reason that I had none. But now the
counsel may serve as an example of the way in which the I Ching
functions. It is a fact that if one begins to think about it, the
problems of the I Ching do represent "abyss on abyss," and
unavoidably one must "pause at first and wait" in the midst of the
dangers of limitless and uncritical speculation; otherwise one
really will lose his way in the darkness. Could there be a more
uncomfortable position intellectually than that of floating in the
thin air of unproved possibilities, not knowing whether what one
sees is truth or illusion? This is the dreamlike atmosphere of the
I Ching, and in it one has nothing to rely upon except one's own
so fallible subjective judgment. I cannot but admit that this line
represents very appropriately the feelings with which I wrote the
foregoing passages. Equally fitting is the comforting beginning of
this hexagram -- "If you are sincere, you have success in your
heart" -- for it indicates that the decisive thing here is not the
outer danger but the subjective condition, that is, whether one
believes oneself to be "sincere" or not.
The hexagram compares the dynamic action in this situation to the
behavior of flowing water, which is not afraid of any dangerous
place but plunges over cliffs and fills up the pits that lie in
its course (K'an also stands for water). This is the way in which
the "superior man" acts and "carries on the business of teaching."
K'an is definitely one of the less agreeable hexagrams. It
describes a situation in which the subject seems in grave danger
of being caught in all sorts of pitfalls. Just as in interpreting
a dream one must follow the dream text with utmost exactitude, so
in consulting the oracle one must hold in mind the form of the
question put, for this sets a definite limit to the interpretation
of the answer. The first line of the hexagram notes the presence
of the danger: "In the abyss one falls into a pit." The second
line does the same, then adds the counsel: "One should strive to
attain small things only." I apparently anticipated this advice by
limiting myself in this foreword to a demonstration of how the I
Ching functions in the Chinese mind, and by renouncing the more
ambitious project of writing a psychological commentary on the
whole book.
The fourth line says:
A jug of wine, a bowl of rice with it; Earthen vessels Simply handed in through the window. There is certainly no blame in this.
Wilhelm makes the following comment here:
Although as a rule it is customary for an official to present
certain introductory gifts and recommendations before he is
appointed, here everything is simplified to the utmost. The gifts
are insignificant, there is no one to sponsor him, he introduces
himself; yet all this need not be humiliating if only there is the
honest intention of mutual help in danger.
It looks as if the book were to some degree the subject of this
line. The fifth line continues the theme of limitation. If one
studies the nature of water, one sees that it fills a pit only to
the rim and then flows on. It does not stay caught there:
The abyss is not filled to overflowing, It is filled only to the rim.
But if, tempted by the danger, and just because of the
uncertainty, one were to insist on forcing conviction by special
efforts, such as elaborate commentaries and the like, one would
only be mired in the difficulty, which the top line describes very
accurately as a tied-up and caged-in condition. Indeed, the last
line often shows the consequences that result when one does not
take the meaning of the hexagram to heart.
In our hexagram we have a six in the third place. This yin line of
mounting tension changes into a yang line and thus produces a new
hexagram showing a new possibility or tendency. We now have
hexagram 48,
Ching, THE WELL. The water hole no longer means danger,
however, but rather something beneficial, a well:
Thus the superior man encourages the people at their work, And exhorts them to help one another.
The image of people helping one another would seem to refer to
the reconstruction of the well, for it is broken down and full of
mud. Not even animals drink from it. There are fishes living in
it, and one can shoot these, but the well is not used for
drinking, that is, for human needs. This description is
reminiscent of the overturned and unused ting that is to receive a
new handle. Moreover, this well, like the ting, is cleaned. But no
one drinks from it:
This is my heart's sorrow, For one might draw from it.
The dangerous water hole or abyss pointed to the I Ching, and so
does the well, but the latter has a positive meaning: it contains
the waters of life. It should he restored to use. But one has no
concept (Begriff) of it, no utensil with which to carry the water;
the jug is broken and leaks. The ting needs new handles and
carrying rings by which to grasp it, and so also the well must be
newly lined, for it contains "a clear, cold spring from which one
can drink." One may draw water from it, because "it is
dependable."
It is clear that in this prognosis the speaking subject is again
the I Ching, representing itself as a spring of living water. The
preceding hexagram described in detail the danger confronting the
person who accidentally falls into the pit within the abyss. He
must work his way out of it, in order to discover that it is an
old, ruined well, buried in mud, but capable of being restored to
use again.
Two Question Summary
I submitted two questions to the method of chance represented by
the coin oracle, the second question being put after I had written
my analysis of the answer to the first. The first question was
directed, as it were, to the I Ching: what had it to say about my
intention to write a foreword? The second question concerned my
own action, or rather the situation in which I was the acting
subject who had discussed the first hexagram. To the first
question the I Ching replied by comparing itself to a cauldron, a
ritual vessel in need of renovation, a vessel that was finding
only doubtful favor with the public. To the second question the
reply was that I had fallen into a difficulty, for the I Ching
represented a deep and dangerous water hole in which one might
easily be mired. However, the water hole proved to be an old well
that needed only to be renovated in order to be put to useful
purposes once more.
These four hexagrams are in the main consistent as regards theme
(vessel, pit, well); and as regards intellectual content they seem
to be meaningful. Had a human being made such replies, I should,
as a psychiatrist, have had to pronounce him of sound mind, at
least on the basis of the material presented. Indeed, I should not
have been able to discover anything delirious, idiotic, or
schizophrenic in the four answers. In view of the I Ching's
extreme age and its Chinese origin, I cannot consider its archaic,
symbolic, and flowery language abnormal. On the contrary, I should
have had to congratulate this hypothetical person on the extent of
his insight into my unexpressed state of doubt. On the other hand,
any person of clever and versatile mind can turn the whole thing
around and show how I have projected my subjective contents into
the symbolism of the hexagrams. Such a critique, though
catastrophic from the standpoint of Western rationality, does no
harm to the function of the I Ching. On the contrary, the Chinese
sage would smilingly tell me: "Don't you see how useful the I
Ching is in making you project your hitherto unrealized thoughts
into its abstruse symbolism? You could have written your foreword
without ever realizing what an avalanche of misunderstanding might
be released by it."
The Chinese standpoint does not concern itself as to the attitude
one takes toward the performance of the oracle. It is only we who
are puzzled, because we trip time and again over our prejudice,
viz., the notion of causality. The ancient wisdom of the East lays
stress upon the fact that the intelligent individual realizes his
own thoughts, but not in the least upon the way in which he does
it. The less one thinks about the theory of the I Ching, the more
soundly one sleeps.
It would seem to me that on the basis of this example an unprejudiced reader would now be in a position to form at least a tentative judgment on the operation of the I Ching. [12] More cannot be expected from a simple introduction. If by means of this demonstration I have succeeded in elucidating the psychological phenomenology of the I Ching, I shall have carried out my purpose. As to the thousands of questions, doubts, and criticisms that this singular book stirs up -- I cannot answer these. The I Ching does not offer itself with proofs and results; it does not vaunt itself, nor is it easy to approach. Like a part of nature, it waits until it is discovered. It offers neither facts nor power, but for lovers of self-knowledge, of wisdom -- if there be such -- it seems to be the right book. To one person its spirit appears as clear as day; to another, shadowy as twilight; to a third, dark as night. He who is not pleased by it does not have to use it, and he who is against it is not obliged to find it true. Let it go forth into the world for the benefit of those who can discern its meaning.
C. G. JUNG
Zurich, 1949
Footnotes
- Legge makes the following comment on the explanatory text for the individual lines: "According to our notions, a framer of emblems should be a good deal of a poet, but those of Yi only make us think of a dry as dust. Out of more than three hundred and fifty, the greater numbers are only grotesque" (The Sacred Books of the East, XVl: The Yi King, 2nd edn., Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1899, p.22). Of the "lessons"' of the hexagrams, the same author says: "But why, it may be asked, why should they be conveyed to us by such an array of lineal figures, and in such a farrago of emblematic representations"' (ibid., p. 25). However, we are nowhere told that Legge ever bothered to put the method to a practical test.
- Cf. "Synchronicity: An Acausal Connecting Principle," The Structure and Dynamics of the Psyche (Coll. Works of C. G. Jung, vol. 8).
- Cf. J. B. Rhine, The Reach of the Mind (New York and London, 1928).
- They are shên, that is "spirit-like." "Heaven produced the 'spirit-like things' " (Legge, p.41).
- See the explanation of the method in Wilhelm's text, p.721.
- For example, the invidi ("the envious") are a constantly recurring image in the old Latin books on alchemy, especially in the Turba philosophorum (eleventh or twelfth century).
- From the Latin concipere, "to take together," e.g., in a vessel: concipere derives from capere,"to take," "to grasp."
- This is the classical etymology. The derivation of rehgio from religare, "bind to," originated with the Church Fathers.
- I made this experiment before I actually wrote the foreword.
- The Chinese interpret only the changing lines in the hexagram obtained by use of the oracle. I have found all the lines of the hexagram to be relevant in most cases.
- Cf. R. Wilhelm and C. G. Jung, The Secret of the Golden Flower, tr. Cary F. Baynes (London and New York, 1931; new edn., revised, 1962), in which this address appears as an appendix. The book did not appear in English until a year after Wilhelm's death. The address is also in The Spirit in Man, Art, and Literature (Coll. Works of C. G. Jung, vol.15).
- The reader will find it helpful to look up all four of these hexagrams in the text and to read them together with the relevant commentaries.
