X. Taking One's Place Within

And so we arrive at the final line of the chapter — the point where every thread laid throughout converges: "When the principle of all under Heaven is grasped, one takes one's place within it."

The one who has grasped the principle of all under Heaven thereby takes a position within Heaven and Earth. Note: this chapter begins with the positioning of "Heaven exalted, Earth lowly — thus Qian and Kun are established" and ends with the positioning of "takes one's place within" — the first and last occurrences of the word "place" (wei) echo each other across the distance. But between them, something momentous has happened: at the beginning, it was Heaven and Earth being positioned; at the end, it is humanity being positioned. Heaven takes its place above; Earth takes its place below. And humanity$32 Humanity is absent from the sentence — until the very last line, when humanity arrives: "takes one's place within." Between Heaven and Earth, one takes a position. The positions of Heaven and Earth are given; humanity's position must be "accomplished" (cheng) — one must model oneself on the ease and simplicity of Qian and Kun, and cultivate the virtue and enterprise of the worthy, to be worthy of and secure in this position. Heaven will not vacate its above; Earth will not vacate its below. But the "middle" — that position stands empty, awaiting the one who comes to fill it through moral cultivation.

This is what the Confucian tradition later called the "Three Powers" (san cai): Heaven, Earth, and Humanity, standing as three. The Zhongyong says that the person of utmost sincerity "may assist in the transforming and nourishing work of Heaven and Earth, and may thus form a triad with Heaven and Earth" — triad (can) means three, standing as a tripod alongside Heaven and Earth. Master Xun put it more plainly: "Heaven has its seasons, Earth has its resources, and Humanity has its governance — this is what it means to form a triad." Heaven has the four seasons, Earth has material wealth, and Humanity has the work of governance — Humanity contributes its share, and only then is it worthy to stand alongside Heaven and Earth as the third. Master Meng's phrase, "to stand in the correct position of all under Heaven and walk the great Way of all under Heaven," refers to exactly this position. See how high the expectations this system of thought places upon humanity: humans are not servants groveling at the feet of Heaven and Earth but the invited third party, standing shoulder to shoulder with Heaven and Earth — except that the positions of Heaven and Earth are ready-made, while humanity's position must be earned. How it is earned, this chapter has laid entirely before us: model the ease of Qian, model the simplicity of Kun, cultivate the enduring virtue, build the expansive enterprise.

Now we can answer the question posed at the opening. Looking back over the entire chapter once more: "Heaven exalted, Earth lowly" is a sketch from the upward and downward gaze, not a decree of hierarchy. Zun and bei are simply gao and bei — high and low — positions, not values. The arrangement that places bei before "high," and the universal principle that noble-and-humble pertain to line positions while fortune-and-misfortune depend on virtue — these at every turn guard against mistaking position for value. Master Zhuang vouches for the terms with the analogy of the four seasons; the Yueji tempers the order of ritual with the harmony of music; Master Meng overrules the honor of rank with the honor of virtue. The Modesty hexagram, with all six lines auspicious, exalts the virtue of lowliness. The Most High takes the low position of rivers and seas as the measure of kingship. The Zhongyong makes "to ascend, one must begin from the low" the Way of the noble person. The Tai hexagram makes Heaven descending and Earth ascending auspicious; the Pi hexagram makes Heaven high and Earth low, with no intercourse, a sign of misfortune. The Xian hexagram makes the man below the woman the path to flourishing. Qian and Kun, then, are praised in parallel — "great indeed" and "supreme indeed" — like father and like mother, like a door opening and closing; destroy one, and yi can no longer be seen. The virtue of Heaven and Earth resolves into ease and simplicity. And the destination of it all is humanity "taking one's place within" — invited between Heaven and Earth, establishing the third position through moral cultivation.

Is there love here$33 Earth is low yet carries all things; Heaven is high yet sends its blessings downward; diminish the above and augment the below; the man below the woman — auspicious. Condescension and bearing — these are the most ancient postures of love. Is there wisdom here$34 The distinction between position and value, the tempering of order by harmony, the principle grasped through ease and simplicity, the fluidity of time and station — all of it is wisdom. To refuse, with the conscience inherent in one's language, a loveless and wisdomless hierarchy — that refusal is right. And the very hierarchy being refused is also what the Zhouyi refuses: the arrogant dragon has regret, the full must wane, without intercourse comes stagnation. This book has always stood on the same side as every reader who holds such conscience. What is needed is merely to take the two characters zun and bei out of the magistrate's hall of later ages and return them to the wilderness of the pre-Qin world. There, zun is nothing more than the height of Heaven, and bei nothing more than the depth of Earth. The high moves with vigor; the deep bears all things. One is a father, the other a mother, and humanity — their child, aspiring to worthy achievement.

In closing, a note on translation. The four characters tian zun di bei, if rendered according to later connotations as "Heaven is noble, Earth is base," betray the entire book at its first line. Better to translate honestly: "Heaven is high and above; Earth is deep and below" — preserving the sense of reverence in zun and the sense of bearing in bei. The high is worthy of reverence; the low is worthy of closeness. Thus the first line becomes not a frowning decree but a sketch that opens the brow in wonder. Dictionaries are dead; the starry sky is alive. When translating these four characters, one might look up at the sky, then look down at the earth beneath one's feet — whether it be polderland wrested inch by inch from below sea level or a plain stretching a thousand li in yellow loess. Earth's lowliness, Earth's power — those who live close to the land have always understood it best.

In the next lecture, we read Chapter Two: "The sage set forth the hexagrams and observed the images, appending phrases to them to illuminate fortune and misfortune." How the sage forged what was seen in that open wilderness into a language of symbols.