Navigating Change

For those willing to embrace its subtlety, the I Ching reveals itself as an atlas to view and navigate change. Unlike texts confined to a specific creed or doctrine, this ancient classic predates even the philosophies of Taoism and Confucianism. With this freedom from religion, freedom from moral judgment is also advisable. Behind the words, the I Ching images begin their act through the appreciation of land.

Land is universal. It exists to set the stage for constant transformation, indifferent to politics but responsive to care and those that tend to it. Likewise, we have found our inner landscapes stirred by the changes of land. For hundreds of years, we have likened our moods to weather and felt restless with dreams in full moon nights. We’ve felt storms coming as much as we’ve felt drowned and buried or at ease by a soft, calming breeze. There comes a point by which these impressions begin to melt into one another, where we cannot escape the parallels of land and soul, because literal and metaphorical storms grow in likeness. It can be a source for fascination. So, by all means, revel in that.

Imagine you can travel the I Ching. Pay attention to things you wouldn’t take for granted on a hike, like the strange breaking in the clouds before the sun dips everything in orange and pink.

The more you wander, the more you will see. The more you wander, the more the land of the I Ching and that around you will bleed into another in moments of recognition. There’s land outside (landscape) and there’s land inside (soulscape). The I Ching aids in joining the two by providing its map. When that happens, you can enjoy the view. Meanwhile, the I Ching itself will make a brilliant companion for the journey. It will tell you where to take heed where you are headed, what to consider, how to take action. It will follow the logic of the land, because there is no better way to understand the intelligence of transformation than by observing the specific ways change unfolds on this planet.

Land, Resonance, Directions

There is mystery as well as history to the origins of the I Ching. The history lends its weight, connecting us to its profound influence on Chinese and East Asian cultures. But it is the mystery that resonates across time. Resonance, after all, is the doorway into the world of the I Ching. It is not merely understood; it is felt.

The land described in the Book of Changes speaks in actions: Lakes rising on mountains, trees growing from cracks in the rocks, smoke curling from a hearth— from heaven to earth and in between, thunder, mountains, lakes, wood, water and fire meet, breed, transform, dissolve, and continue on at a dynamic pulse that shakes and shapes human life on earth. These are not static images but dynamic movements – known as hexagrams, six-line graphics. Each motion carries a name, a direction, and a potential. And while these directions intertwine, each stands complete on its own.

Change, the only constant in the I Ching, is more than mere modification. The general definition doesn’t exactly tell us anything about the nature of change. But this is a crucial piece - how is change understood from the perspective of the I Ching? How can we understand its nature in relation to our lives and our surroundings?

Insights on the Nature of Change

The Chinese character for change, “yi” (易 – the first half describing the I Ching), offers a glimpse into this understanding. Early inscriptions depict two elements: one representing the pouring of water and the other a hollow form reminiscent of a pregnant belly. Together, they evoke the essence of creation and transformation: holding and releasing, nurturing and moving. In Chinese medicine, this interplay between storing (Yin) and circulating (Yang) provides the foundation of the organ system (Zang Fu).

Early inscriptions of “change” on oracle bones generally consist of two parts: the pouring of water and a hollow form

Later iterations of the character evolved to include the sun (日) and moon (月). What can we glean from this union?

Sun and moon form the most archaic binary of potential—the primordial rhythm that governs existence. As boundless and inconstant as change might occur, sun and moon rise, decline, and return within the flux of phenomena. Within the inevitability of change, sun and moon condition the rhythmic occurance of forces on this planet. Rhythm is the framework through which change unfolds.

Consider a piece of music. To an unfamiliar ear, every note might feel like a surprise, each shift unpredictable. The more you understand about music - that is, the elements of song like verse and chorus, key changes and measure - the more you will be able to grasp and experience the piece.

The I Ching functions similarly. Its hexagrams (the “images in motion”) provide a language to decipher the patterns within the dynamic in question.

This might fundamentally differ from the generalised Western perception of change as chaos, where the dominant force overpowers “what needed to go”. The I Ching would respectfully disagree: while there are aspects within change that can be violent, change itself is an inexorable active dynamic that can be understood, utilised, and played – as it has. Over millenia, leaders and emperors have used the I Ching to build effective strategy. But this is a different road.

Up until this point of your life, how have you felt about change? A lot of people feel daunted by change, while others embrace it. What are the reasons for your feelings towards change?

Now that we’ve outlined how the I Ching views change, you know the basic rules of the game. It’s important to respect the rules before you play the game, because knowing where you stand on this matter will alter your experience as a whole.

Core Forces: 8 Trigrams and 64 Hexagrams

At the heart of the I Ching are its 8 trigrams, each representing a fundamental force of nature. These trigrams are composed of three lines—either unbroken (Yang) or broken (Yin)—and embody qualities like water, fire, mountain, and wind. When these trigrams interact, they form 8x8=64 hexagrams, each a unique arrangement of six lines.

Again, an analogy to music might be helpful. Imagine the 64 hexagrams as 64 chords consisting of two base notes. The order of the 64 chords takes us through a symphony of harmonies and discord, but outside the structure of melody, each chords tells its own story.

Take, for instance, the 61st hexagram: Zhong Fu, or Inner Truth. It combines wind (above) and lake (below).

Here’s the text that introduces this dynamic:

The wind blows over the lake and moves the surface of the water. The visible effects of the invisible are thus revealed. The sign consists of solid lines at the top and bottom, while it is free in the middle. This indicates the freedom of the heart from bias, so that it is capable of receiving the truth.

When the trigrams for lake and wind meet, there is a mirrored symmetry forming a space in the centre. Wind rippling across the surface of the water represents a soft kind of infiltration – invisible – as this subtle force can bring into motion what’s stuck on the lake.

This hexagram points to a dynamic where rigidity can be resolved by a continuous, soft impact as we can observe in the interplay of wind and lake.

Likewise, the centre of the hexagramm emphasises the significane of an unoccupied heart. The heart is only receptible to truth if it remains impartial. Within Chinese philosophy, the heart is seen as the abode of the spirit (神). It represents the surface of a lake from another perspective – that of a reflective mirror. When troubled, it distorts; when calm, it reflects. For the Chinese, the perception and interaction of everything that surrounds us is driven by the spirit in the heart. Preserving its softness in order to retain our ability to see and know is the key to engage with the situation at hand.

A while ago, I did a more detailed reading of the strategy inhibited in this hexagram as part of my I Ching x Ghibli series. Feel free to check it out here.

Accessing Inner Landscapes

When approaching a hexagram, it can be helpful to first tune into the image – for instance, find the resonance of wind blowing above water from your own source of images. I have a pond closeby where I live; whenever this hexagram comes up, I see this pond. It’s only a small one with a willow above it, and from spring onwards, I can see how the breeze moves the surfacce as the willow runs its branches through the water. I connect this image to my physical heart – like you would do in a meditation – and try to imagine this dynamic clearing any stuffiness when my inner mirror feels muddled.

Have the hexagrams mean something to you. There is no destination here; the goal is to sharpen your ability to zoom out, observe, and form connections.

It is easy to begin with trigrams, hexagrams, and in terms of text, the parts that refer to the movement in nature first. It pays off to approach this with curiosity. We all carry an abundance of sensual impressions with us, waiting to be sourced, visited, consulted. The I Ching invites us to map our inner landscapes with an open mind, merging the seen and unseen into a dialogue through transformation.