The Book of Change

A New Translation of the Ancient Chinese I Ching (Yi King) with Detailed Instructions for its Practical Use in Divination

John Blofeld

• Publisher: Routledge
• Year: 2022
• ISBN:
  9781000582000
• Edition: 1
• Topic: Social Sciences
• Subtopic: Regional Studies
• Index: Social Sciences

This book, first published in 1968, examines the I Ching, one of the oldest books in the world and certainly the most influential in Chinese thought. This modern translation features extensive explanatory material, and is the product of the author's great experience in the field and of close contact with Chinese scholars and experts.

Part One Explanatory Chapters

Chapter 1 An Approach to the Book of Change

It was not until fairly recently that Asian scholars began to interest themselves widely in the material sciences which—for better and for worse—have done so much to transform human life, especially in the West. Formerly, Asia’s thinkers were chiefly occupied with the search for life’s meaning (or, at any rate, man’s true goal) and for ways of utilizing that vital knowledge for self-cultivation and self-conquest. One of the most valuable, though far from the most coherent, of the aids to understanding life’s rhythmic processes, with a view to bringing man back into harmony with them is the Chinese Book of Change. As to its date of origin and authorship—questions to which more importance is attached in the West than in Asia—opinions vary. Confucius, who lived some two thousand five hundred years ago, regarded it even then as an ancient work and it is safe to assume that some parts of it are at the very least three thousand years old. Indeed, it must be one of the very oldest extant books in the world. The authorship of the basic Text is attributed to King Wên (1150 bc) and his son Duke Chou and that of the Commentary which now forms an integral part of the whole to Confucius and his disciples. There is no conclusive proof either for or against these claims; all that can be said is that the book is certainly of very great antiquity and that recent scholarship indicates that the Chinese have been right about such things rather more often than was formerly supposed. In any case, the matter seems to me of scarcely more than academic interest; what does interest me enormously is that the Book of Change, when properly put to the test, responds in such a way as to remove all doubts about its value as a book of divination.

My calling it the Book of Change, instead of using the more usual plural form, the Book of Changes, is something of an innovation. The Chinese language, of course, is free from the complication of number, gender and so on, so both translations are valid. My choice of the singular form arises from my conviction that the Chinese authors selected the title to reflect their concept of Change as the one unchanging aspect of the universe normally perceptible to human beings. In this universal context, individual changes are relatively unimportant; it is the process of change itself which needs to be emphasized.

Whether we use the I Ching for divination or to study the principles involved in it, if we allow ourselves to be governed by its teaching, we shall thereby enrich the content of our lives, free ourselves from anxiety, become harmless or even intelligently helpful to others and pleasant companions to ourselves. It is a source of inner harmony and of communion with those great forces whose interplay creates all visible and invisible worlds except for their own Parent, the T’ai Chi or Absolute Itself. It sets for us a marvellous ideal, that of the Chüntzû or Superior Man—one who is perfectly self-controlled and self-sufficient, wholly free from self-seeking and able to stand firmly and serenely among forces which toss lesser men to and fro like shuttlecocks, despite their tears and screams. Cheerfully impervious to loss or gain, he acts vigorously when action is needed and willingly performs the much harder task of refraining from action when things are better left alone. Able to reconcile whatever can be reconciled, he knows how to stand aside rather than waste his effort on the impossible. Well disposed to enjoy the pleasures of eating, drinking, sleeping, travelling and so forth, he is capable of meeting stress, pain, disability, bereavement, illness and death without repining. In him, compassion and patient acceptance are united. Fools will take him for a bigger fool than themselves: wise men will know him for an incomparable sage. (Incidentally, students of Zen who know what to look for in an accomplished teacher will recognize the Chüntzû at the moment of meeting him. Of course, everybody can recognize one if he knows how to look.)

For well over two thousand years, the Book of Change, presumably more or less in its present form, has been used for divination and, in an earlier and briefer form, since considerably earlier than that. It is this seemingly occult aspect of the book, so easily taken for granted by the Chinese, which is likely to call forth disbelief and even scorn from Westerners who have never put it honestly to the test. I have no means of convincing sceptics unless by asking them to test its powers in all sincerity, which their very disbelief will make virtually impossible for them. Correct interpretation of the oracles requires a particular state of mind—here again, students of Zen possess a special advantage—in which respect based on belief is a vital factor. My own experience is that the oracles, properly sought and properly interpreted, are unfailingly correct; so that, if the injunctions implied by them are followed strictly, everything will come to pass exactly as foreseen.

The world-famous psychologist, C. G. Jung, whose illuminating preface to the English edition of Wilhelm’s version is a joy to read, courageously dared the scorn of his fellow scientists by publicly asserting his belief in the I Ching’s predictions. He even went so far as to attempt to show why they are correct. His argument, as far as I can understand it, is that whatever happens at a given moment is bound up with the entire universal situation then prevailing; hence, even if the (to my mind) rather inadequate method of coin-tossing is used for consultations, there need be no doubt about the result; for the way the coins fall will be governed by that prevailing situation. In this connection, he also employs the phrase ‘exploring the unconscious’, apparently suggesting that the function of the I Ching is to draw from the unconscious to the surface of our minds whatever is necessary for a correct understanding of the problem posed and its solution. I must confess that, much as I admire C. G. Jung, I cannot accept this explanation—perhaps because I do not really understand it. What seems to me a flaw in the argument about coin-tossing is that, while it is true that everything occurring at a given moment is closely interrelated with the prevailing universal situation, the I Ching gives equally apposite answers to all questions, regardless of the time of asking them. Thus, if I ask how Nigeria will fare in the years 1970-80, a correct prediction cannot be much affected, if at all, by my asking the question at ten a.m. on December 24, 1963, or at seven p.m. on January 17, 1964. If Professor Jung were still alive, he would probably be able to satisfy me on this point; as it is, we shall never know. Anyway, what is particularly striking is that a great man who set much store by scientific method frankly testified to his conviction of the book’s divinatory powers. His scientist’s integrity was revealed by his willingness to jeopardize his reputation among his fellow scientists rather than suppress what seemed to him to be the facts.

Like Jung, I have been struck by the extraordinary sensation aroused by my consultations of the book, the feeling that my question has been dealt with exactly as by a living being in full possession of even the unspoken facts involved in both the question and its answer. At first, this sensation comes near to being terrifying and, even now, I find myself inclined to handle and transport the book rather as if it had feelings capable of being outraged by disrespectful treatment!

As to how the book succeeds in giving answers which produce this uncanny effect, I do not know. A number of explanations may all be near the mark, as with the opinions of several witnesses who have observed the same traffic accident from different places in the street. If you say that the oracle owes its effectiveness to the subconscious of the one who asks the questions, or to the unconscious (which is probably universal and therefore common to all men), or to the One Mind (in the Zen sense), or to God or a God or the Gods, or to the philosopher’s Absolute, I shall be inclined to agree with every one of these suggestions, for I believe that most of all of these terms are imperfect descriptions of a single unknown and unknowable but omnipotent reality. Rather than attempt an explanation of my own, I bear in mind two sayings—Laotzû’s ‘He who knows does not speak; he who speaks does not know’ and the old English adage ‘The proof of the pudding is in the eating’. In other words, I am entirely satisfied with the results produced by the I Ching, but do not presume to explain the lofty process by which they are achieved.

I had spent many years in China and had acquired some knowledge of the Buddhist classics as well as a much slighter knowledge of Taoist works before I began to feel much interest in the I Ching. No doubt one of the reasons for this delay was that the Chinese text is so difficult as to be largely incomprehensible to anyone who has not made it the object of special study. What first caught my attention was the discovery that so many Chinese scholars, despite intellectual backgrounds so varied that they stretched almost all the way from Laotzû and Confucius to Karl Marx, spoke of the I Ching with respect and let it be seen that they would have much to say about it if they believed me really interested. In the end I bought copies of the Chinese text and of the English version of Wilhelm’s translation. The first I soon put on one side as beyond my powers of understanding and the second, for some reason or other, I put away in a cupboard with other books without reading much of it. Then came the Communist revolution and my departure from China, perhaps for ever. By a curious chance, the Wilhelm version found its way into the trunk containing the relatively small number of books I decided to carry away with me. It was not until I had been in Siam for something like ten years that a chance remark made me study the book with some care and try my hand at using it for divination. The very first time I did this, I was overawed to a degree that amounted to fright, so strong was the impression of having received an answer to my question from a living, breathing person. I have scarcely ever used it since without recovering something of that awe, though it soon came to be characterized by a pleasurable excitement rather than by fear. Of course I do not mean to assert that the white pages covered with black printer’s ink do in fact house a lively spiritual being. I have dwelt at some length on the astonishing effect they produce chiefly as a means of emphasizing how extraordinarily accurate and, so to speak, personal, are its answers in most cases. Yet, if I were asked to assert that the printed pages do not form the dwelling of a spiritual being or at least bring us into contact with one by some mysterious process, I think I should be about as hesitant as I am to assert the contrary.

To clarify this a little, I propose to offer three examples of the I Ching’s answers to enquiries. The first is an example of a question properly put and accurately answered, while the other two demonstrate the book’s disconcerting but humorous means of rejecting questions that are improper in themselves or put to it in improper circumstances.

My interest in the I Ching was fully awakened towards the end of 1962 at about the time when hostilities between India and mainland China commenced in the Tibetan border region. Before long, the newspapers in Bangkok (where I live) were prophesying that the Chinese armies would continue their rapid advance, swoop down onto the plains of India and perhaps occupy some major cities there before India’s friends could come to her defence. The contrary view was never expressed in the newspapers that came to my notice. As I had been very happy both in China and India and felt a keen affection for both peoples, I was deeply disturbed; finally, in a spirit of sincere enquiry, I consulted the Book of Change. The answer was so contrary to other people’s predictions that I decided to write it down word for word. I do not have the record by me now; but, as far as I remember, my interpretation, which was closely based upon the actual wording of the book, ran something like this, though it was considerably longer and more detailed. An army in the hills (the Chinese) was looking down upon the marshy plain below (India). If its leaders were wise, they would halt their attack at the very moment when everything was going well for them, refrain from advancing further and perhaps withdraw in some places. A week or two later, this is precisely what happened. Moreover, the I Ching had given reasons for this advice, namely that the lines of communication were already too long for safety; that the opponent (India) was likely to receive powerful support from its friends; that the moral value of calling a halt before any necessity for it became generally apparent would be greater in the long run than fresh military gains; and several other reasons which I cannot now recall. I remember that every one of them was later adduced in newspaper articles to explain the unexpected behaviour of the Chinese and I vividly recall the astonishment of my friends when I showed them what I had written down in advance of the newspapers. It could of course be claimed that a good deal of the accuracy of my answer was due to my particular interpretation of the actual words below the two hexagrams and the two moving lines involved; but, as I had not at all expected the Chinese to call a halt or reasoned out the possible reasons for their doing so, it is hard to see how I could have made myself the dupe of autosuggestion.

The following is a reconstruction from memory of the way in which I obtained these results. The response consisted of Hexagram 48 plus moving lines in the first and second places of that hexagram plus Hexagram 63 (which results when those lines ‘move’ and thus become their own opposites).

Hexagram 48 signifies a well. My knowledge of the Indo-Tibetan borderlands, where the mighty Himalayas slope sharply down to the dead flat plain of north India, led me promptly to equate India with the well and to think of the Chinese as looking down into it from above. Of the two component trigrams, one has ‘bland’ or ‘mild’ among its meanings, while the other means ‘water’. Taking water, the contents of the well, to be the people of India, I found it easy to think of bland or mild as representing their declared policy of non-violence and neutrality. Thus, the significance of these two trigrams convinced me that I had been right to suppose that the well represented India (or the whole of that country except for the Himalayan border region). The Text attached to that hexagram contained three ideas which seemed to me appropriate to the situation. That the well suffers no increase or decrease suggested that India would lose no territory lying south of the mountainous frontier region; the rope’s being too short suggested that the Chinese could not safely extend their lines of communication further than they had already done; otherwise, their ‘pitcher’ would be broken, i.e. they would suffer a serious reverse or defeat.

Next, I examined the texts and commentaries attached to the two moving lines (lines 1 and 2) of that hexagram. The commentary on the first of them suggested that a further Chinese advance would not succeed and that the time had come for a wise commander to ‘give up’, i.e. to halt and perhaps to withdraw somewhat. The commentary on the second moving line suggested that, in addition to the tactical reason for halting already given, there was also a strategic or political reason, namely China’s inability to win a favourable...

Table of contents

• Cover
• Half Title
• Title Page
• Copyright Page
• Original Title Page
• Original Copyright Page
• Dedication
• Table of Contents
• Foreword to the Book of Change (I Ching)
• Translator’s Foreword
• Introduction
• Part One: Explanatory Chapters
• Part Two: The Book of Change
• Appendix: Tables and Diagrams for Assisting Interpretation