Explaining the Yijing to a Distant Friend: An Introduction to the Xici Zhuan
An introduction to the Xici Zhuan (Appended Statements) of the Zhouyi, written for a faraway reader. Beginning with the fundamental concepts of hexagrams, lines, yin-yang, and the high and the low, it clarifies the composition and reading of the Xici, dispels the most common misunderstandings of beginners and overseas readers, and paves the way for a close study of the twelve chapters of the Upper Xici.
V. Several Easily Misunderstood Terms
The language of the Xici is supremely beautiful and supremely susceptible to being obscured by later or foreign concepts. There are several key terms that, if clarified at the doorstep, will spare much wandering after one has stepped inside.
Yin and Yang. Western readers encountering yin and yang for the first time tend to think of the battle between light and darkness, or the struggle between good and evil. This is the most pernicious association imaginable. Yin and yang are not good and evil, not God and the devil, not even two "things," but two complementary and opposing forces inherent in all phenomena: the sun is yang, the moon is yin; heat is yang, cold is yin; movement is yang, stillness is yin; expansion is yang, contraction is yin. Neither is meant to destroy the other -- winter is not the defeat of summer; night is not the enemy of day. The Most High (Laozi), author of the Daodejing, put it most intimately: "All things carry yin on their backs and embrace yang; the blending of their vital breaths produces harmony" (Daodejing, ch. 42). All things bear yin behind and clasp yang before; the two vital breaths surge and stir together into harmony. Harmony is where yin and yang come to rest. The Xici says, "One yin and one yang: this is called the Dao" (yi yin yi yang zhi wei Dao). The Dao is not in yin, not in yang, but in the very alternation of "one yin, one yang," the going and coming itself. These seven characters are the ridgepole of the entire book; we will devote the fifth lecture to them.
Heaven (tian). "Heaven" in the Zhouyi and pre-Qin texts is not a personified Creator; it issues no commandments, metes out no rewards or punishments, and receives no prayers. The Master said: "What does Heaven ever say$13 The four seasons proceed, the hundred things are born -- what does Heaven ever say$14" (Analects, "Yang Huo"). Heaven says nothing; it merely lets the four seasons revolve and the hundred creatures grow -- it speaks through its operations and acts through its generating. Master Xun said: "Heaven's operations follow a constant pattern: they do not persist because of a Yao, nor do they perish because of a Jie" (Xunzi, "Tianlun"). The operations of the Heavenly Dao have their constancy; they do not exist for the sake of a sage-king, nor do they vanish for the sake of a tyrant. Therefore, when the pre-Qin Chinese "reverenced Heaven," they did not fear a god who could grow angry; they stood in awe of a constancy that commands trust without words and inspires respect without wrath. If a translator renders tian directly as "God" or "deity" in Western languages, the entire picture is distorted.
Spirit (shen). Likewise, the character shen that repeatedly appears in the Xici does not in most cases refer to ghosts or gods. The Xici provides its own definition: "The unfathomable in yin and yang is called shen." When the transformations of yin and yang reach a degree beyond measurement and anticipation, that is called shen. The Shuoguazhuan also says: "Shen is the word used for the marvelous workings of all things." The so-called shen is a word spoken in reference to the wondrous fashioning of the myriad creatures. It is closer to the sense of "marvelous" or "wondrous" -- a quality, not a being. When you read "Shen has no fixed direction and Change has no fixed form" or "To make things luminous through shen depends on the person," understand them in this way.
The High and the Low (zun and bei). This is the pair of words that most perplexes our friend from afar, and it is the very first sentence of the Xici: "Heaven is high, Earth is low" (tian zun di bei). In modern parlance, zun and bei almost inevitably read as hierarchical rank and status, making this sentence sound like an oppressive decree. But in the context of the Xici, zun and bei refer first of all to spatial elevation and lowness -- Heaven is above, Earth is below, a plain fact visible to anyone who raises their head or lowers their gaze. Moreover, in the pre-Qin tradition, bei (low, humble) is far from a pejorative; it is where the fullest virtue resides: Earth, by being low, bears all things; water, by seeking the lowest place, becomes rivers and seas; the noble person, through humility, endures to the end. This layer of subtlety is precisely the focus of the first lecture. Here we merely ask the reader to leave modern Chinese associations with "high and low" at the door for the moment.
Non-action (wu wei). The Xici says: "The Yi is without deliberation, without contrivance, utterly still and unmoving; when stimulated, it penetrates all situations under heaven." The Most High (Laozi) also speaks repeatedly of wu wei. Wu wei is not doing nothing, not laziness or abdication; it is not imposing private intent upon things, not forcing one's way against the natural principle of things -- just as Heaven brings forth creatures without visible exertion, yet all things fulfill their lives of their own accord. This term is the source of the most misunderstanding; we will discuss it in detail in the tenth lecture.
Fortune and Misfortune (ji and xiong). The Zhouyi is filled with fortune, misfortune, regret, and distress; first-time readers easily take these for a system of prophesied blessings and curses. But the Xici says: "Fortune and misfortune are the images of gain and loss; regret and distress are the images of worry and concern." Fortune and misfortune are merely signs of gaining and losing; regret and distress are merely signs of anxiety -- they are not rewards and punishments sent down from Heaven but the natural fruits borne by actions within their particular time and position. Therefore, whenever the Zhouyi speaks of fortune or misfortune, it always attaches conditions: occupy such a position, hold such a virtue, and the result is fortunate; otherwise it is unfortunate. It is a book about "how," not a book about "fate."
Time (shi) and Position (wei). These two words are the key to understanding all the hexagram and line statements. The same dragon: hidden in the depths, "do not act"; flying in the heavens, "it is beneficial to see a great person"; overreaching in excess, "there will be regret" -- the dragon has not changed; what has changed is the time. The same yang line: in the second position it "receives much praise," in the fourth position it "meets much fear," simply because one is far from the sovereign and therefore at ease, while the other is near the sovereign and therefore in danger -- the talent and virtue have not changed; what has changed is the position. Therefore the Zhouyi never asks abstractly, "Is this good or bad$15" It only asks concretely, "At this time and in this position, what should one do$16" The Judgment Commentary of hexagram Gen (Keeping Still) puts it best: "When the time calls for stopping, stop; when the time calls for moving, move. When movement and stillness do not miss their proper time, the way ahead is bright." Stop when stopping is called for, move when moving is called for; when neither movement nor stillness misses its moment, the path ahead is naturally bright. This is not opportunism; it is the deepest honesty -- honesty toward the inherent rhythm of things themselves. Western readers may be reminded of a passage from their own tradition: "To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under heaven." Indeed, humanity's deepest wisdom often meets and smiles at just such places.
The Noble Person (junzi). The junzi of the Xici is not an aristocratic title but a name for a kind of personhood: one who takes virtue as one's charge, who strengthens oneself ceaselessly throughout the day, who knows to be cautious when facing affairs, and who dwells in equanimity while awaiting what is appointed. The Great Image Commentary of the entire Zhouyi comprises sixty-four entries, every one of which reads "The noble person, on this basis..." (junzi yi...) -- "The course of Heaven is strong and vigorous; the noble person, accordingly, makes himself strong and untiring." "The tendency of Earth is yielding and receptive; the noble person, accordingly, bears all things with broad virtue." One might say that the sixty-four hexagrams, in the heavens, are sixty-four images; in the human sphere, they become sixty-four lessons for the noble person. When readers encounter the words "noble person," they may freely insert their own name -- this book has always been written for "one who is willing to be a noble person," regardless of where that person was born or what language they speak.
The Center (zhong). Among the six lines, the second position occupies the center of the lower trigram, and the fifth position occupies the center of the upper trigram. Whenever a yang line occupies one of these positions with its firmness, or a yin line with its yielding, the hexagram and line statements tend to be favorable, which is called "attaining the center" (de zhong). The "yellow garment, supremely auspicious" that Nankuai obtained in his divination owes its auspiciousness to the fact that the sixth in the fifth position is a yielding line occupying the center -- yellow is the color of the center, the lower garment is the ornament of the subordinate; to hold the center while remaining below, hence the great good fortune. This word "center" carries tremendous weight in Chinese thought. It is not the mathematical midpoint, not a wishy-washy compromise, but rather hitting the mark -- neither too much nor too little. The Master said, "Excess is as bad as deficiency"; going too far and falling short are equally flawed. What the 384 lines of the Zhouyi teach through their myriad fortunes and misfortunes amounts to nothing other than this single lesson -- be firm but not excessive, be yielding but not servile, advance yet know when to retreat, rise high yet know what is below, and at every moment seek that exact measure of fitness. In later times, the Confucian school produced a work entitled simply Zhongyong (The Doctrine of the Mean), which is nothing other than the unfolding of this one character's meaning.
Dao and Vessel (qi). The Xici says: "What is above form is called Dao; what is below form is called vessel (qi)." That which has visible shape and trace is a vessel; that which operates above all shape and trace, making the vessel what it is, is the Dao. A bow is a vessel; the principle of drawing and releasing is the Dao. A carriage is a vessel; the principle of revolving and turning is the Dao. In later Chinese history, the Western term metaphysics was translated as "the study of what is above form" (xing er shang xue), the wording taken directly from this sentence. But the distinction between Dao and vessel in the Xici is less about dividing reality into two worlds than about pointing to a way of seeing: in every artifact, in every human affair, discern the invisible principle that makes it so. The Dao does not exist outside the vessel, just as wetness does not exist outside water. We will discuss this sentence in detail in the final lecture; for now, simply note it.
All the terms above are thresholds. The purpose of a threshold is not to bar the way but to remind the one entering: there is a step at your feet as you cross the door -- lift your foot. Once the reader from a foreign land has crossed these thresholds, the Xici they see will be the same book that Chinese readers see. But if misunderstandings take root at the entrance, the deeper one reads, and the harder one works, the further astray one goes. Should you find at some later point in the text a sentence that grates on your ears or a principle that will not come clear, you may return to this section and check whether you have once again been deceived by the modern garments of an ancient word -- ancient characters often stand at the crossroads dressed in modern clothing, and they are the most accomplished of all at being mistaken for someone else.