First Reading of Chapter One of the Upper Xici: Heaven and Earth Take Their Places, and Virtue Is Formed Through Ease and Simplicity
A close reading of Chapter One of the Upper Xici within the context of pre-Qin thought, moving through the layers of Heaven and Earth, Qian and Kun, the firm and the yielding, image and form, change, ease and simplicity, virtue and achievement, and the taking of one's place -- to see how the Yi runs through the Way of Heaven, the Way of Earth, and the Way of Man.

XXI. "Qian Knows the Great Beginning": Knowing Is Not Passive Observation, but the Clarity of Initiation
"Qian knows the great beginning; Kun brings things to completion." This sentence speaks of the virtue of Qian and Kun in terms of knowing and doing. Qian's "knowing" is not recording, after the fact, something that has already happened, but discerning the incipient moment, fixing the direction, and setting the beginning in motion. The great beginning has not yet become the concrete myriad things, and yet it already contains the fundamental possibility from which the myriad things can arise. Heaven moves through qi, and the four seasons proceed from this; the noble person establishes himself through resolve, and virtue and achievement unfold from this. Without a beginning, there is nothing from which to speak of completion afterward; if the beginning is not correct, the further one proceeds, the harder it becomes to remedy.
The "great" in "knowing the great beginning" lies first in what it governs as a whole. The initiation of a governmental decree cannot know only its immediate, single effect, but must also see how it will draw upon the people's livelihood, the use of resources, custom, and border defense. The beginning of a family's upbringing cannot seek only a child's momentary obedience, but must also ask what disposition it will cultivate. The beginning of scholarship cannot seek only literary brilliance that surpasses others, but must first discern why one is learning at all. Only one who can set the direction from the whole comes close to knowing the great beginning; one who sees only immediate advantage and not the long term, only one aspect and not the mutual stirring of the whole, however clever, remains small.
Knowing the beginning is also knowing the incipient moment (ji). At the point of the faintly incipient, a matter has not yet become fully manifest, and judgment is especially difficult. Before great disorder arises, one may see only that slanderous speech is gaining ground and the worthy are being kept at a distance; before great order is achieved, one may see only that a certain official has begun to listen to the people's sentiment and economize on expenditure. The ordinary person values a shape already formed; the sage discerns an image about to form. To wait until the flood has already breached the dike before controlling it is already too late; to observe it while the soil is still damp and the springs are just beginning to well up brings small effort and great effect. To wait until the people's hearts are entirely lost before seeking their support is already too late; to reform governance while grumbling has only just begun can still be retrieved.
The various hexagrams of the Yi often use the first line to signal the meaning of the beginning. The first position is lowly, the matter not yet flourished, and it appears not worth much attention -- yet it is in fact what the later configuration proceeds from. Treading on frost and thereby knowing that solid ice is approaching does not exaggerate a thin layer of frost into a great calamity, but understands the principle of gradual accumulation. A good intention, if nurtured at its first sprouting, can form virtue; a bad habit, if indulged at its first sprouting, will also become entrenched. The Most High said, "A tree that fills the arms grows from the tiniest shoot; a nine-story terrace rises from a heap of earth; a journey of a thousand miles begins beneath one's feet" -- likewise tracing great completion back to its faint beginning.
Qian knowing the great beginning also means that the one who initiates bears a heavier responsibility. A single thought of one who occupies a high position may be magnified through the hundred officials; a single word of a teacher or elder may be taken up by later students as a standard. If the beginning is carried out carelessly, the more effectively those below execute it, the greater the consequence becomes. Qian and Kun must match one another: the stronger Kun's capacity to bring things to completion, the more correct Qian's beginning must be. Execution alone, without questioning the direction, may achieve harm with great efficiency; direction alone, with no one to carry it out, remains an empty scheme.
Nor should the distinction between knowing and doing turn into valuing knowing while despising doing. That Qian is the great beginning is certainly to be honored, and yet Kun's bringing of things to completion is likewise irreplaceable. The Confucian tradition of the pre-Qin era consistently opposed regarding mere eloquence as worthiness. The Master listened to a person's words and then observed his conduct; Master Xun distinguished knowing it, doing it, and being at ease in it, placing the greatest weight on accumulated practice forming habit. If knowing never enters into doing, there is no way to test whether what is known is even true. The clarity of initiation must be willing to entrust itself to the long process of bringing things to completion.