TZE-KI HON

FINDING HOPE AND CERTAINTY:

WANG BI’S COMMENTARIES ON THE YIJING

ABSTRACT

In this article, I analyze Wang Bi’s (226–249) essays in General

Comments on the Changes of the Zhou (Zhouyi Lueli《周易略例》 ).
I argue that these essays reveal Wang Bi’s unique approach to find-
ing hope and certainty in an ever-changing world. Taking trigrams
and hexagrams as symbols of forces that shape our life, Wang Bi
creates a philosophical framework that includes two components:
(1) a dynamic ontology that stresses the codependence of part and
whole, and (2) an attitude of life that views contingency as a
reinvigorating force rather than a devastating force.

I. I NTRODUCTION

To students of Chinese philosophy, Wang Bi (226–249) is well

known for his brilliant thoughts on the limits of language and the
realm of Nothingness (wu).1 But he was also an accomplished classi-
cist shown in his unparalleled achievements of writing commentaries
on two of the most difficult texts in ancient China: the Daodejing
and the Yijing. Singlehandedly he added new meanings to two of
“the three profound texts” (sanxuan 三玄)—the third one being the
Zhuangzi—that shaped the development of the Learning of the
Deep (xuanxue) of the Wei-Jin period (220–589).2 To him, philoso-
phy and classical scholarship were complementary in the sense that
new philosophical ideas are developed in dialogue with classical
texts and in response to the community of classical exegetes.
In this article, I will discuss Wang Bi’s philosophy by examining
his essays on reading the Yijing (Book of Changes). Known as Gen-
eral Comments on the Changes of the Zhou (Zhouyi Lueli《周易略
例》), his essays appear as an appendix in the standard Wang Bi ji
Jiaoshi《王弼集校釋》 punctuated and annotated by Lou Yulie 樓
宇烈.3 They are rendered into English by Richard John Lynn and

TZE-KI HON, Professor, Department of Chinese and History, City University of Hong
Kong. Specialties: the Yijing commentaries; Neo-Confucianism of the Song-Ming period;
and social and political changes in late Qing and Republican China. E-mail: t.k.
hon@cityu.edu.hk
Journal of Chinese Philosophy (Month 2020)
© 2019 Journal of Chinese Philosophy
2 TZE-KI HON

appear at the beginning of Lynn’s The Classic of Changes: A New

Translation of the I Ching as Interpreted by Wang Bi.4 On the sur-
face, these essays appear to explain how to read the Yijng. But when
read more carefully, they reveal Wang Bi’s unique approach to find-
ing hope and certainty in an ever-changing world. A key element of
Wang Bi’s philosophy is that, like Heidegger’s phenomenology of
Being, it asks us to see our daily life as a disclosure of the deep
structure of human existence.5 For Wang Bi, each moment in our
life is a revealing of the complex networks of factors and players
that make us who we are. As such, every decision we make—from
buying a cup of coffee to purchasing a multi-million-dollar house—is
an encounter with the confluence of forces that makes us living
persons.
In what follows, I will elucidate Wang Bi’s philosophy of change
through an analysis of his essays. My goal is to demonstrate the
interplay between Wang Bi’s philosophy and his classical scholar-
ship. To prove my point, I will divide this article into three parts. In
the first section, I will explain the two core questions that the Yijing
raises to its readers: “How do we deal with fear and anxiety of living
in an ever-changing world?” and “What can we do to find hope and
certainty to make our life better?” In the second section, I will com-
pare Wang Bi’s interpretation of the Yijing with those of the Han
dynasty scholars, highlighting Wang’s unique approach to change. In
the third section, I will focus on Wang Bi’s four Yijing essays—
“Clarifying the Judgments” (Ming Tuan 明彖), “Clarifying How the
Lines Are Commensurate with Change” (Ming Yao Tong Bian 明爻
通變), “Clarifying How the Hexagrams Correspond to Change and
Make the Lines Commensurate with It” (Ming Gua Shi Bian Tong
Yao 明卦適變通爻), and “Clarifying the Images” (Ming Xiang 明
象).6 I argue that in these four essays, we find a philosophical frame-
work for coping with human finitude, activating human agency, and
managing the uncertainty of human life. This philosophical frame-
work includes two components: (1) a dynamic ontology that stresses
the codependence of part and whole, and (2) an attitude of life that
views contingency as a reinvigorating force rather than a devastating
force. As such, Wang Bi’s philosophy urges us to take charge of our
lives. It highlights the gap between what is preconditioned and what
is possible, showing both how deeply we are embedded in the net-
works of connectivity that make us who we are, and the opportunity
that we will find hope and certainty in an ever-changing world.
Viewing life as a continuous process of making the best out of a
given situation, Wang Bi tells us that there is no failure or setback
in conventional sense because we can always turn what appears to
be a failure into a blessing, or an impasse into a test of character.
 WANG BI’S COMMENTARIES ON THE YIJING 3

Ultimately, each step we move is an encounter with the deep struc-

ture of forces that undergird our lives, our society, and our world.7

II. Y IJING ’ S C ALL TO ATTENTION

A canonized Confucian classic, the Yijing is a composite text con-

sisting of three distinct layers. Its first layer is comprised by the 8 tri-
grams and 64 hexagrams allegedly created by the mythical figure, Fu
Xi. Its second layer are the hexagram statements and line statements
allegedly written by King Wen and the Duke of Zhou during the
11th century BCE, and hence the Yijing was also known as the
Zhouyi (The Changes of the Zhou [Dynasty]). Its third layer incor-
porates seven pieces of writings composed from 5th to 2nd century
BCE. Divided into ten segments (hence, the name “Ten Wings”),
the authors of these writings used the hexagrams to discuss cosmic
patterns, the relations between humanity and nature, and the com-
plexity of human life.8 By 125 BCE, these three textual layers were
combined to form what we now call the Yijing.9
Embedded in the three layers of the Yijing is the notion that the
cosmos is an organismic process without beginning or end. As a pro-
cess, the cosmos resembles a great flow in which “all of the parts of
the entire cosmos belong to one organic whole” and all the parts
“interact as participants in one spontaneously self-generating pro-
cess”.10 As such, there are three characteristics of this great flow:
continuity, wholeness, and dynamism. It is continuous because it
never stops renewing itself. It is holistic because it includes every-
thing in the universe and permeates all aspects of life. It is dynamic
because it is full of motion and movement, generating energy and
strength all the time.11 In this cosmic flow, there is no distinction
between the following: the natural realm and the human realm, an
observing subject and an observed object, and the inner world and
the outer world. Everything is part of a totality, a group dance that
never stops.
To the Yijing commentators, the unfolding of the universe is viv-
idly portrayed in the 8 trigrams and 64 hexagrams. For instance,
they see the 8 trigrams ( , , , , , , , ) as graphic rep-
resentations of the mixing of the yin and yang cosmic forces (or qi,
energy). With different combinations of a straight line (—) rep-
resenting the yang cosmic force, and a broken line (– –) representing
the yin cosmic force, a trigram symbolizes the cosmos’ constant
renewal and its creation of the myriad things. Similarly, a hexagram
is also a symbol of the unfolding of the universe. For example, a
hexagram can be divided into two trigrams: the lower trigram (lines
4 TZE-KI HON

1–3) and the upper trigram (lines 4–6). With two trigrams, a hexa-
gram symbolizes the interaction of two sets of yin-yang configura-
tion, demonstrating the multiple ways in which the yin and yang
forces interact and transform each other. Or, one takes the lower
two lines of a hexagram as representing the earth (di 地), the middle
two lines as representing humankind (ren 人), and the top two lines
as representing heaven (tian 天). Then, we have a trigram within a
hexagram. Known as the “three potencies” (san cai 三才), the rela-
tion of heaven, earth, and humankind highlights the co-dependence
between the natural realm (tian and di) and the human realm (ren).
With trigrams and hexagrams as symbols of the “three
potencies,” the starting point of Yijing philosophy is the acceptance
of human finitude. On the one hand, the “three potencies” highlight
the limits of human beings in shaping the natural environment. On
the other, they empower human beings to pursue their goals if they
are willing to adapt to the natural environment. For instance, in the
Xici《繫辭》 (one of the “Ten Wings”), the authors point out that
in the oracles there were encouraging words such as “auspicious” ( ji
吉) and “without blame” (wujiu 無咎), and stern warnings against
“calamity” (xiong 凶), “blame” (jiu 咎), “regret” (hui 悔) and
“remorse” (lin 吝).12 These contrasting prognostications highlight
the harsh reality of human existence. In some incidents, the wind of
luck is on our side; whatever we do seems to go well. But in other
incidents, we are clearly out of luck: no matter how hard we try, we
are doomed to failure. To support their argument, the Xici authors
linked the popularity of divination to the political crisis when the
mandate of heaven (tianming 天命)—the power to rule—was
abruptly passed from the Shang family to that of the Zhou.13 To
highlight the importance of divination in assuaging human fear, the
Xici authors coined two terms—fear (you 憂) and anxiety (huan
患)—to describe the different states of human apprehension of
uncertainty and fate.
Directly linking the popularity of hexagram divination to the epic
battle between the last ruler of Shang (King Chou) and the first
ruler of Zhou (King Wen), the Xici authors see hexagrams as stern
warnings against danger and downfall. In these warnings, hexagrams
provoked fear by reminding readers—typically, those involved in
government—of the disastrous consequences of bad decisions and
reckless moves (such as the tyrant Chou’s brutality that led to the
downfall of the Shang). They also instilled anxiety by calling atten-
tion to the vulnerability of human beings and the randomness in
human fate (such as the sudden fall of the Shang and the unex-
pected rise of the Zhou). Whether provoking fear or instilling anxi-
ety, the effect of hexagram divination is the same. It forces readers
 WANG BI’S COMMENTARIES ON THE YIJING 5

to reflect on their arrogance, complacency and self-indulgence. It

shocks them to look for ways to come to terms with contingency
and serendipity. Above all, it directs attention to the dark side of
human existence such as disease, deformation, degeneration, and
death.14
At the same time, the Xici authors also sought to console nervous
readers, assuring them that if they learnt to read the hexagrams
properly, they will discern the pattern behind incessant changes.
They write:
The Changes is a book from which one may not hold aloof. Its dao
is forever changing—alternating, movement without rest, flowing
through the six empty places [of a hexagram]; rising and sinking
without fixed laws, firm and yielding transforming each other. They
cannot be confined within a rule; it is only change that is at work
here. They move inward and outward according to fixed rhythms.
Without and within, they teach caution. They also show care and
sorrow and their causes. Though you have no teacher, approach
them as you would your parents.15

Seen in this light, the 64 hexagrams are no longer oracles. They

become symbols of the constant movements in the universe and the
ceaseless changes in one’s life. More importantly, they point to the
intricate networks of factors or forces—from near to distant, simple
to complicated, visible to invisible—that shape movements and
changes.

III. T HE H AN Y IJING C OMMENTARIES

During the Han dynasty,16 the Yijing exegetes continued to trans-

form the Yijing into a philosophical text. They were particularly
determined to overcome human finitude by turning the trigrams and
hexagrams into systems of signs mimicking the recurrent patterns of
the universe. Their goal was to merge the natural and human
realms, such that the two became one and the same.17 Known as
correlative cosmology, the purpose behind this fusion of the natural
and human realms was to focus attention on “the mutual responsive-
ness of heaven and humanity”.18 This mutual responsiveness of
nature and humankind was based on two assumptions. First, the cos-
mos is orderly and stable. Its orderliness and stability are shown in
the regular succession in time, such as the four seasons, the twelve
months, the 365 1/4 days. Second, the same orderliness of the natural
world is found in the human realm in the form of life cycles, the
rhythm of work and rest, and the rise and fall of family fortunes.
Despite the vicissitudes on the surface, the natural and human
6 TZE-KI HON

worlds are balanced, systematic and predictable. They are perfect

mirrors of each other, such that when one moves, the other
responds.
The goal of correlative cosmology was not to develop a compre-
hensive understanding of the universe. Rather, it was to legitimize
the transition “from the concept of imperial sovereignty based on
might into the need to support a claim to rule with intellectual
sanctions”.19 Thus the emperor was said to be the crucial link
between the natural and human realms. In fact, according to the
Western Han scholar DONG Zhongshu 董仲舒,20 the Chinese charac-
ter for king (wang 王) reflected the solemn responsibility of the
emperor (symbolized by the vertical stroke in the middle) for con-
necting the three potencies : heaven (tian), earth (di) and human-
kind (ren).21 As such, the emperor was indeed the Son of Heaven
(tianzi 天子) who was omnicompetent, omnipotent and omniscient
in managing an eternal empire.22
To support absolutism, Han dynasty commentators transformed
the Yijing into a cosmological manual reflecting the ebb and flow of
cosmic forces. They earnestly reorganized the hexagram sequence to
match the cosmic rhythm, demonstrating that the natural and human
realms are one and the same.23 For instance, Jing Fang 京房 (77–37
BCE) created the Hexagrams of Eight Palaces (ba gong gua 八宮
卦): Qian 乾 , Kun 坤 , Zhen 震 , Xun 巽 , Kan 坎 , Li 離 ,
Gen 艮 , Dui 兌 . These eight palace hexagrams are the doubles
of the eight trigrams. For Jing, each of these palace hexagrams leads
a group of seven hexagrams. For example, Qian leads , , , ,
, , . In this new alignment of hexagrams, there is both a steady
increase or decrease of the Yin and Yang 陽 cosmic forces, and the
hidden power of the two forces even when they are dormant.24
Another new sequence of hexagrams was the “waning and waxing
hexagrams” (xiaoxi gua 消息卦) perfected by YU Fan 余藩 (164–233
CE). Representing the ebb and flow of the Yin and Yang cosmic
forces, the “waning and waxing hexagrams” go as follows:

Fu 復 [24]à Lin 臨 [19] àTai 泰 [11]à Dazhuang 大壯

[34]à Guai 夬 [43] à Qian 乾 [1] à Gou 垢 [44] à Dun
遁 [33] à Pi 否 [12]à Guan 觀 [20]à Bo 剝 [23]à Kun
坤 [2] (back to Fu 復)

When reading from Fu to Qian, the Yang force gradually increases

while the Yin force decreases. When reading from Gou to Kun, the
Yin force increases while the Yang force decreases. As a system, the
twelve hexagrams are continuous. When the series ends with Kun, it
begins anew with Fu.25
 WANG BI’S COMMENTARIES ON THE YIJING 7

By developing these new hexagram sequences, the Han Yijing

commentators wanted to achieve two goals. First, they freed them-
selves from the original sequence of the 64 hexagrams that was, to
them, incoherent and inconsistent. Second, with the new sequences,
Han commentators were better equipped to synchronize the hexa-
grams with the lunar calendar, showing a direct correspondence
between the ebb and flow of cosmic forces and the cycles of life in
human society.26 For instance, the “waning and waxing hexagrams”
were assigned to represent months in the lunar calendar: Fu (the
eleventh month), Lin (the twelfth month), Tai (the first month
of the following year), Dazhuang (the second month), Guai
(the third month), Qian (the fourth month), Gou (the fifth
month), Dun (the sixth month), Pi (the seventh month),
Guan (the eighth month), Bo (the ninth month), and Kun
(the tenth month).27 The same could be done for the hexagram’s
sequence based on the eight palaces. By matching the new
sequence of the 64 hexagrams with 12 months, the Han commenta-
tors allotted eight months to four hexagrams and four months to
eight hexagrams.28
By turning hexagrams into symbols to match the lunar calendar,
the Han commentators suppressed fear by focusing attention on the
repeated rhythm of the universe, as evidenced by the seasonal
changes and the passage of time from month to month. They also
externalized fear by concentrating on the grand scheme of the uni-
verse’s renewal that did not seem to give room to uncertainty or
rupture. More importantly, by matching the cosmic realm with the
human rhythm, they created an illusion that the Yijing was a ruler’s
playbook to fathom the cosmos and order the world.29

IV. WANG B I ’ S C RITIQUE OF H AN Y IJING C OMMENTARIES

The fall of the Han dynasty in 220 CE revealed a fundamental prob-

lem of correlative cosmology, namely, human beings are incapable
of fully discerning cosmic patterns, nor can they completely apply
cosmic patterns to human affairs. Even if they tried to mimic the
cosmic rhythm in governing the human world, the human world is
far too complicated for anyone to handle. Born six years after the
collapse of the Han dynasty, Wang Bi was thrown into a situation in
which there seemed to be few certainties in life.30 With China
divided into three separate kingdoms—the Wei 魏, the Shu 蜀, and
the Wu 吴—there was widespread disorder in the country. When
everything was in ruin, fewer and fewer people followed the
8 TZE-KI HON

Confucian precepts of honesty, loyalty and filial piety. Instead, trick-

ery, usurpation and pragmatic calculation became the accepted strat-
egies for survival.
Apparently, Wang Bi’s experience after the collapse of the Han
dynasty brought him face to face with fear and anxiety—the two
recurrent themes in the Yijing. As a result, his reading of the text
focused heavily on the contingency and serendipity of life, highlight-
ing the danger and randomness in human existence. At the same
time, he saw contingency and serendipity as a vital source, giving
people the opportunity to turn things around.31 Attached to his
Zhouyi Zhu (Commentary on the Changes of the Zhou) were essays
in which he discussed how to read the classic. In these essays, collec-
tively known as Zhouyi Lueli《周易略例》 (General Remarks on
the Changes of the Zhou), he revisited themes that had been dis-
cussed in the Xici, including what a hexagram symbolizes and what
the six lines of a hexagram tell us about human existence. In these
essays, he presented a notion of change that was completely new.
First and foremost, unlike the Han commentators, Wang Bi did
not consider the hexagram sequence to be important. Instead, he
regarded each of the 64 hexagrams as a discrete situation. In his
essay, “Clarifying the Judgments” (Ming tuan 明彖), he points out
that the uniqueness of each hexagram is succinctly summarized in its
Tuan 彖 (Commentary on the Judgment). Hence, from reading the
judgment commentary which summarizes the 64 hexagrams, a
reader will find Zhun 屯 (Difficulty at the Beginning, #3) dis-
cussing the difficulty when someone starts an endeavor, Meng 蒙
(Youthful Folly, #4) discussing how a teacher hones his or her skills
in teaching; Xu 需 (Waiting, #5) discussing a pause to reflect on
one’s precarious situation, and so forth.32 As such, readers do not
have to strictly follow the hexagram sequence in reading the hexa-
grams. Instead, they can pick and choose any hexagram that speaks
to them, actively injecting their life experience into reading the
Yijing.
In another essay “Clarifying the Images” (Ming Xiang 明象),
Wang Bi explains why he wants to change the way of reading the
Yijing. He writes:

Images are the means to express ideas. Words are the means to
explain the images. To yield up ideas completely, there is nothing
better than the images, and to yield up the meaning of images,
there is nothing better than words. The words are generated by the
images, thus one can ponder the words and so observe what the
images are. The images are generated by ideas, thus one can pon-
der the images and so observe what the ideas are. The ideas are
yielded up completely by the images, and the images are made
 WANG BI’S COMMENTARIES ON THE YIJING 9

explicit by the words. Thus since the words are the means to
explain the images, once one gets the images, he forgets the words,
and since the images are the means to allow us to concentrate on
the ideas, once one gets the ideas, he forgets the images.33

On the surface, the quoted passage seems to be a discussion of the

limits of language, especially the use of symbols and words to depict
reality that we do not fully comprehend. But when read more care-
fully, the quoted passage is a preamble for critiquing the Han Yijing
exegetes. Here, images (xiang) refers to trigrams and hexagram cre-
ated by Fu Xi, and words mean the hexagram and line statements
that King Wen and the Duke of Zhou composed. For Wang Bi, the
Han exegetes are doomed to failure in using the 64 hexagrams to
match the unfolding of the universe. Given the scope and scale of
the universe, whatever system of knowledge that the Han exegetes
create will not be able to include all the animate and inanimate
beings, nor can it capture the fluidity and diversity of the constant
transformation in the universe. Furthermore, the repeated patterns
that the Han exegetes identify are merely what human beings
observe or experience; they are not the “real cosmic patterns” that
the universe follows, as the frequent appearance of anomalies,
calamities, disasters, and unexplained events demonstrate. For this
reason, Wang Bi suggested that “once one gets the images, he for-
gets the words” (dexiang zai wangyan 得象在忘言) and “once one
gets the ideas, he forgets the images” (deyi er wangxiang 得意而
忘象).
In the latter part of the essay, Wang borrows the Zhuangzi meta-
phors of “rabbit snares” (ti 蹄) and “fish trap” (quan 筌) to under-
score the need to look at reality without being distracted by words
or images. He writes:

Similarly, the rabbit snare exists for the sake for the rabbit; once
one gets the rabbit, he forgets the snare. And the fish trap exists for
the sake of fish; once one gets the fish, he forgets the trap. If this is
so, then the words are snares for the images, and the images are
traps for the ideas.34

For Wang Bi, trigrams and hexagrams are traps because they give
us a false sense of reality, confusing a representation of reality with
the reality itself. Particularly in the Han period, the Yijing exegetes
deployed trigrams and hexagrams to depict the rise and fall of Yin
and Yang forces, as if the sequence of hexagrams could accurately
map the unfolding of the universe. In the last part of “Clarifying the
Images,” Wang assumes a sarcastic tone to question the effective-
ness of using the hexagrams to mimic the cosmic patterns. He writes:
“If the lines really do fit with the idea of compliance, why is it
10 TZE-KI HON

necessarily that Kun 坤 (Pure Yin, Hexagram 2) represent only the

cow; and if its concept really corresponds to the idea of dynamism,
why is it necessary that Qian 乾 (Pure Yang, Hexagram 1) represent
only the horse?”.35 Worse still, when the matching of hexagrams
with the unfolding of the universe did not work, the Han exegetes
created even more methods, such as “overlapping trigrams” and
“trigram change,” to make the correspondence look tenable.36 For
Wang Bi when more of these methods are created, more gaps and
exceptions will appear in human systems of knowledge, showing
their falsity and inadequacy.
Wang Bi’s goal in critiquing the Han Yijing exegetes was to put
forward a new method of reading the Yijing. Rather than creating a
system of human knowledge that matched the vast scope and scale
of the universe, Wang suggested that we should accept the limit of
our knowledge—namely, we only know what we can know. We
know that the universe is a totality, but we can only apprehend its
grand unity in our daily life and through our surroundings. Because
of our finitude, we should see hexagrams as pointers, in the form of
temporal-spatial grids, that reveal the totality of the universe in the
concrete situation of our life. As such, whichever hexagram is
picked, it will provoke a conversation between the symbol and the
reader, allowing the reader to see the field of action in front of him.
In the essay “Clarifying the Judgments” that we briefly discussed
above, Wang explains the importance of taking each hexagram as a
pointer to the confluence of facts that shape our life:

No thing ever behaves haphazardly but necessarily follows its own

principle. To unite things, there is a fundamental regulator; to inte-
grate them, there is a primordial generator. Therefore things are
complex but not chaotic, multitudinous but not confused. This is
why when the six lines of a hexagram intermingle, one can pick out
of them and use it to clarify what is happening, and as the hard
ones and the soft ones supersede one another, one can establish
which one is the master and use it to determine how all are
ordered. This is why for mixed matters the calculation of the virtues
and the determination of the rights and wrongs involved could
never be complete without the middle lines.37

Here, Wang Bi deploys a series of metaphors—principle (li 理), fun-

damental regulator (zong 宗), and primordial generator (yuan 元)—
to emphasize the importance of looking at our life as part of a
totality. But unlike the Han dynasty exegetes, Wang refuses to
externalize the human fear of contingency and serendipity to the
imagined persistent patterns in the universe. Nor does he suppress
the human anxiety about uncertainty and randomness by highlight-
ing the repeated cycles in the natural and human worlds. Instead, he
 WANG BI’S COMMENTARIES ON THE YIJING 11

wants us to see our existence—including our hopes and hears, our

triumphs and tribulations, and our decisions in mundane daily life—
as part of the unfolding of the universe that both limits our options
and provides us with plenty of opportunities. He writes:

This is why if one examines things from the point of view of total-
ity, even though things are multitudinous, one knows that it is pos-
sible to deal with them by holding fast to the One, and if one views
them from the point of view of the fundamental, even though the
concepts involved are immense in number and scope, one knows
that it is possible to cover them all with a single name. Thus when
we use an armillary sphere to view the great [heavenly] move-
ments, the actions of Heaven and Earth lose their capacity to
amaze us, and if we keep to a single center point when viewing
what is about to come to us, then things converging from the six
directions lose their capacity to overwhelm us with their number.
Therefore when we cite the name of a hexagram, in its meaning is
found the controlling principle, and when we read the words of their
Judgment, then we have got more than half the idea involved.38

Like the Han Yijing exegetes, Wang Bi sees the goal of reading the
Yiing as gaining an understanding of the systematic unfolding of the
universe. But unlike the Han Yijing exegetes, Wang Bi does not cre-
ate systems of hexagrams to mimic the recurrent patterns of the uni-
verse. On the contrary, he reverses the perspective. He wants us to
use our life experience as the point of departure for understanding
the universe. Similar to what William Blake says in the opening lines
of Auguries of Innocence, Wang Bi asks us “to see a world in a grain
of sand, and a Heaven in a wild flower.”

V. T HE PART-W HOLE DYNAMIC IN C HANGES

To help us see the world from one’s life experience, Wang Bi

identifies hexagrams as temporal-spatial grids elucidating complex
networks—familial, social, political, and so on—that make us who
we are. In “Clarifying How the Lines Are Commensurate with
Change” (ming yao tong bian 明爻通變), Wang Bi writes:

What are the hexagram lines? They address the states of change.
What is change? It is what is brought about by the interaction of
the inner tendency of things and their counter tendencies to spuri-
ousness. The actions of this tendency to spuriousness are not to be
sought in numbers. Thus when something that tends to coalescence
would disperse, or when something that tends to contraction would
expand, this runs counter to the true substance involved. In form, a
thing might seem inclined to agitation yet wants to be still, or a
material, though soft still craves to be hard. Here, substance and its
12 TZE-KI HON

innate tendency are in opposition, and material and its inclination

are in contradiction.39

For Wang Bi, the interaction of the six lines symbolizes the com-
plexity of our existence, particularly the multiple networks that
make us who we are. In real life, things do not happen in a
straightforward manner because of the interaction and transmuta-
tion of these networks. Thus the purpose of reading a hexagram—
even a bad one like Gu 蠱 (Ills to Be Cured, #18)—is a mental
exercise of finding options in responding to a situation. We realize
that we are preconditioned as shown in the web of relations repre-
sented in a hexagram. At the same time, we know that we have
opportunity and resources as shown in the configuration of the six
lines. Hence, the purpose of reading the Yijing is to find a hexagram
that would inspire us to observe our surroundings, identify the con-
fluence of forces that is shaping our life, and above all, make plans
to improve our lot.
As temporal-spatial grids, hexagrams can be read in two ways.
Reading from the bottom to the top, the six lines of a hexagram
symbolize a movement in time when an event unfolds from begin-
ning to end. In this temporal progression, there is one dominant line
that shapes the development. Reading as pairs of resonance and cor-
respondence, a hexagram is a spatial structure of groups of lines—
such as the bottom line pairing with the fourth line, the second line
pairing with the fifth line, and the third line pairing with the top line.
The alliances among the six hexagram lines can also be based on
Yin and Yang, such that a Yang line seeks for a Yin line, and a Yin
line seeks for a Yang line, regardless of their positions. But for
Wang Bi, the two middle lines of a hexagram—the third and fourth
lines—are always enigmatic because of their positions: the third line
is at the top of the lower trigram, and the fourth line is the begin-
ning of the lower trigram. Together, they represent the critical tran-
sition from the lower trigram to the upper trigram, or “crossing the
big river” (lishe dachuan 利涉大川) in the Yijing parlance.
Thus, when looking at a hexagram, one must see both the whole
(the hexagram) and the parts (the six lines). Whereas the hexagram
is a depiction of a specific congregation of forces, the six lines are
the different possibilities that shape the congregation of forces.40 In
the opening line of “Clarifying How the Hexagrams Correspond to
Change and Make the Lines Commensurate with It” (Minggua
shibian tongyao 明卦適變通爻), he makes clear this part-whole rela-
tionship between a hexagram and its six line.

The hexagrams deal with moments of time, and the lines are con-
cerned with states of change appropriate to those times. Moments
 WANG BI’S COMMENTARIES ON THE YIJING 13

of time entail obstruction or facility, thus the application [of a given

hexagram] is either a matter of action or of withdrawal.41

For Wang Bi, hexagrams and hexagram lines are pointers, but they
point to different things. Symbolizing the whole, a hexagram repre-
sents a web of relationships governing the actions of players. Sym-
bolizing the parts, hexagram lines represent the choices that each
player can make in advancing his or her interests. In the former, we
see the invisible relationship that undergirds the choices and actions
of the six players. In the latter, we see the visible and tangible
actions, such as advance and withdraw, gain and loss. And yet, the
visible and invisible, parts and wholes, are mutually dependent.
With the different functions of hexagrams and hexagram lines in
mind, we can understand why Wang Bi stresses the mutual depen-
dency of somethingness (you 有) and nothingness (wu 無) in his
commentary on Xici 1.9 as preserved by Han Kangbo 韓康伯 (332–
380 CE). Originally a passage about divination, Xici 1.8 discusses
how to select a hexagram by counting fifty yarrow stalks. Known as
“the number of Great Expansion” (dayan zhishu 大衍之數), the
selection begins with the diviner separating the fifty yarrow stalks
into two piles: (a) a group of forty-nine stalks that will be used to
select a hexagram, and (b) an unused stalk that will be set aside in
the rest of the divination procedure.42 Wang Bi views the group of
forty-nine stalks as somethingness and the unused stalk as nothing-
ness. He writes:

After expanding the numbers of heaven and earth, we find that the
ones that are of benefit to us number fifty, and of these we actually
use forty-nine, thus leaving one unused. Although this one is not
used, yet through it the use of the other numbers becomes readily
possible, and although this one is not one of the numbers, yet
through it the other numbers are formed. As this one represents
the supreme ultimate of change, the other forty-nine constitute the
ultimate of numbers. Nothingness cannot be brought to light by
means of nothingness but must take place through somethingness.
Therefore, by applying ourselves constantly to this ultimate among
things that have somethingness, we shall surely bring to light the
primogenitor from which all things derive.43

In his comments, Wang Bi uses divination to prove the co-

dependence of somethingness and nothingness. He argues that
somethingness depends on nothingness because the forty-nine yar-
row stalks become useful only when they are utilized in casting a
hexagram. Conversely, nothingness cannot fulfil itself without
somethingness because there is no way to perform a divination with-
out the forty-nine yarrow stalks. Representing the practice of divina-
tion, nothingness gives the purpose, the unity, and the coherence to
14 TZE-KI HON

the act of throwing of the forty-nine yarrow stalks. Representing the

actual steps of casting a hexagram by throwing the yarrow stalks,
somethingness makes divination possible.
An analogy would be a performance of Beethoven’s fifth sym-
phony. As members of the audience, we see musicians playing notes
under the baton of a conductor. As listeners, we hear Beethoven’s
music that is invisible and ineffable yet transcends everything that
happens on stage. Here, the key point is the mutual dependency of
the tangible and intangible, what we see and what we hear. Without
Beethoven’s music (a structure of notes), there would not have been
a performance of the fifth symphony. Conversely, without a perfor-
mance by an orchestra in front of an audience, Beethoven’s scores
remain but scribbles on paper—a potentiality that is untapped and
unrealized.

VI. I N THE R EALM OF C ONSTANT C HANGE

Wang Bi argues that precisely in this juncture that exists between

what is already configured (the hexagram) and what can be changed
(the six lines of a hexagram), we see the fluidity of human affairs
and the possibilities of change. With proper action, one can turn
what appears to be a failure into a blessing. Conversely, lacking
appropriate action, one can make what appears to be flourishing
into a disaster. For this reason, Wang Bi does not find the inauspi-
cious hexagram Sun 損 (Diminution, #41) terribly frightening.44
Judging from its hexagram image and line statements, Sun suggests
a situation where those who are high up take advantage of those
who are in lower positions, or those who are physically strong vic-
timize those who are weak. Yet, despite the injustice denoted in the
hexagram, Wang Bi believes there is still room for optimism.
“Supreme good fortune” will come, he declares, if someone finds
ways to benefit the public. Similarly, the “oppressions” in hexagram
Kun 困 (Impasse, #47) are avoidable. Judging from its line state-
ments, Kun is hopeless. All of its six lines are plagued with some
form of oppression: the first line is buried under a barren tree, the
second line is burdened with excessive drinking and eating, the third
line is caught in rocks, the fourth line is locked in a golden carriage,
the fifth line is bullied by a man with purple knee bands, and the sixth
line is wrapped by creeping vines. Yet Wang Bi argues that by mak-
ing the right decision one can reverse what seems to be an oppressive
situation into an opportunity for growth and advancement.45
It is from this perspective that Wang Bi finds special value in the
Yijing. For him, the 64 hexagrams and their 384 hexagram lines are
 WANG BI’S COMMENTARIES ON THE YIJING 15

the concrete embodiments and manifestations of changes. By think-

ing through the hexagrams as temporal-spatial grids, we are able to
reflect on three things: (a) our situation in a moment in time (shi
時), (b) our position in that situation (wei 位), and (c) the range of
possibilities to respond to that situation (ying 應). In “Clarifying
How the Hexagrams Correspond to Change and Make the Lines
Commensurate with It,” Wang Bi explains how one can make an
informed decision by reading the hexagrams:

The constraint appropriate to one moment of time can undergo a

reversal and turn into an occasion to exert oneself, but the good for-
tune of one moment of time can also undergo a reversal and turn into
misfortune. Thus hexagrams form pairs by opposites, and the lines
involved also all change accordingly. This is why there is no constant
way with which application can comply, and there is no fixed track for
affairs to follow. Whether to act or remain passive, whether to draw
in or extend oneself, there is only change to indicate what is appropri-
ate. Thus, once the hexagram is named, either good fortune or bad
ensues, depending on the category to which it belongs. Once the
moment of time is posited, one should either act or remain passive,
responding to the type of application involved. One looks up its name
in order to see whether the hexagram means good fortune or bad,
and one cites what is said about the moment involved in order to see
whether one should act or remain passive. Thus, from these things, it
is apparent how change operates within the body of one hexagram.46

This special value in the Yijing hexgrams is clearly shown in Qian

乾 (The Creative, #1). The line statements depict the six Yang
lines as a dragon in various positions—a “hidden dragon” (qian long
潛龍) in line 1 at the bottom, an “emerging dragon” (xiang long 現
龍) in line 2, a “wavering dragon” (houyue zaiyuan 或躍在淵) in line
4, a “flying dragon” (fei long 飛龍) in line 5, and an “arrogant
dragon” (kang long 亢龍) in line 6 at the top. In addition, the line
statements suggest a correspondence between the dragon’s position
and a proper course of action: the hidden dragon should avoid tak-
ing aggressive action, the emerging and flying dragons should seek
help from “a great man,” the wavering dragon should take flight
over the depths despite the danger and apparent risks, and the arro-
gant dragon will regret being stubborn and excessively confident.
As a temporal-spatial grid, however, Qian is ambiguous. On the one
hand, in five of its six lines, the tone seems to be upbeat, projecting an
impression of an incessant progress from a hidden dragon to an emerg-
ing dragon, a wavering dragon, and finally, a flying dragon. On the
other hand, the progression is abruptly cut short by the downfall of the
arrogant dragon. Like a Greek tragedy, the rapid fall of the arrogant
dragon suggests hubris, highlighting the danger of excessive human
pride in making strenuous efforts to pull oneself up.
16 TZE-KI HON

In his commentary, Wang Bi does not focus on the temporal pro-

gress or dark tone of the hexagram. Instead, he emphasizes the
importance of using the six dragons creatively and proactively to
response to the challenges of life. The place where Wang states his
view is in his comments on a statement from the Commentary on the
Judgments (Tuan 彖) which says: “When it is the moment for it, ride
one of the six dragons” (shicheng liulong yiyutian 時乘六龍). To
explain this statement, Wang writes:

This is manifestly evident in its Dao from beginning to end. Thus each
of the six positions forms without ever missing its moment, its ascent
or descent is not subject to fixed rule, and it functions according to the
moment involved. If one is to remain in repose, ride a hidden dragon;
if one is to set forth, ride a flying dragon. This is why it is said: “When
it is the moment for it, ride one of the six dragons.”47

Here, Wang Bi suggests we see the six lines of Qian as constantly

changing their positions. Even if one strictly follows the incremental
progress from a hidden dragon (the first line) to an emerging dragon
(the second line) to a flying dragon (the fifth line), upon reaching the
top (an arrogant dragon), one must go back down to a hidden dragon
and start all over again. Since the six lines of Qian represent a cycle
rather than linear progression, Wang suggests readers choose a dragon
most suitable to them so as to assume the position of a hidden dragon
when starting a new business or beginning a new career, to act like an
emerging dragon after receiving recognition from peers or bosses, to
be like a wavering dragon when making a crucial transition in career
or location, to be like a flying dragon when everything seems to be
flourishing, and last but not least, to avoid becoming an arrogant
dragon when everything looks perfect but a decline is imminent.
In short, Wang Bi urges us to view Qian metaphorically as a
temporal-spatial grid to reflect on our surroundings, look for alterna-
tives, and above all, anticipate dangers and pitfalls. As such, Qian
becomes a symbol of the ever-changing world. It is particularly helpful
when we are at a critical juncture of our lives. At that moment—one
may say, the Yijing moment—we feel especially vulnerable and fragile,
because we are reminded of the confluence of factors and the compli-
cated web of relationships that shape our lives. Still, we must make
decisions and act swiftly to improve our situation, in a manner similar
to what Paul Tillich calls “the courage to be”—daring to face the com-
plexity of life that is beyond our understanding and our control.48
Once we ride the six dragons according to the needs of the time, we
become an active player in our daily life. We may be a hidden dragon
or an arrogant dragon when we enter the great flow of human exis-
tence, but as we are swept along by the current, we should find our
 WANG BI’S COMMENTARIES ON THE YIJING 17

position, rhythm, and trajectory. In the end, the key point is not when
and how we enter the great flow of human existence, but what we
become and achieve after we join it.

VII. C ONCLUSION

One may argue that Wang Bi’s reading of the hexagrams limits the
Yijing to concrete human affairs. Unlike the Han dynasty commenta-
tors, Wang had little interest in cosmology and rejected any attempt to
match the cosmic and human realms. But in seeing the hexagrams as
temporal-spatial grids, Wang reminds us that the Yijing is meant to be
read metaphorically. In focusing on the hexagrams as pointers—
pointing toward something hidden, implicit, yet fundamental in time
and space—he avoids the pitfall of the Han dynasty commentators
who turned the Yijing into a copious system of signs to document the
multifarious changes in the universe. For Wang Bi, the Han dynasty
commentators’ attempt is futile because they do not accept the basic
tenet of the Yijing—the limits of human knowledge.
In returning to the root of the Yijing as symbols, Wang Bi directs
readers’ attention to the metaphorical significance of the hexagrams.
As pointers, hexagrams help readers develop a mental picture of
their surroundings, allowing them to sort out the opportunities as
well as the limitations in each given situation. Hexagrams also
expand readers’ horizons by directing their attention from what is
near to what is distant, from what is apparent to what is concealed.
Above all, they give readers hope by showing the infinite possibili-
ties of changing our lives if we pay careful attention to our surround-
ings, and most importantly, the multiple networks of factors and
players that shape our lives.

CITY UNIVERSITY OF HONG KONG

Hong Kong, SAR, China

E NDNOTES
Acknowledgment of Credentials and Rights: The research of this article was funded by
a start-up grant from the City University of Hong Kong (project no: 930087) and the
early drafts of this article were presented at conferences in Hong Kong, New York, and
Göttingen. I thank Eric Nelson (Hong Kong University of Science and Technology),
David Chai (Chinese University of Hong Kong), and Dominic Sachsenmaier (University
of Göttingen) for facilitating my presentations. My travel to Göttingen was partially
funded by the Germany/Hong Kong Joint Research Scheme (project no. 905303).
Above all, I thank Stephen Palmquist for his patience and care in guiding me through
18 TZE-KI HON

the arduous process of publishing this article. It goes without saying that I am solely
responsible for all the mistakes that may exist.

1. Wing-Tsit Chan, Source Book in Chinese Philosophy (Princeton: Princeton Univer-

sity Press, 1963), 316; Alan K.L. Chan, “Neo-Daoism,” in History of Chinese Philos-
ophy, edited by Bo Mou (London: Routledge.2009), 303-323.; Liang Baoxuan 梁葆
玹, Xuanxue tonglun玄學通論 (Taipei: Wunan Tushu Chuban Gongsi, 1996); Tang
Yongtong 湯用彤, Weijin xuanxue lungao魏晉玄學論稿 (Shanghai: Shanghai
Renmin Chubanshe, 2005); Rudolf Wagner, Language, Ontology, and Political Phi-
losophy in China: Wang Bi’s Scholarly Exploration of the Dark (Albany: State Uni-
versity of New York Press, 2003).
2. Tze-Ki Hon, “Human Agency and Change: A Reading of Wang Bi’s Yijing Com-
mentary,” Journal of Chinese Philosophy, vol. 30 no. 2 (2003): 223-242; Tze-Ki Hon,
2010. “Hexagrams and Politics: Wang Bi’s Political Philosophy in the Zhouyi Zhu”
In Philosophy and Religion in Early Medieval China, edited by Alan Chan and
Yuet-Keung Lo (Albany: State University of New York Press 2010), 71-96; Tang
Yijie 湯一介, Weijin xuanxue魏晉玄學 (Huanggang: Hubei Renmin Chubanshe,
1983); Yu Dunkang 余敦康, He Yan Wang Bi xianxue yintan 何晏王弼玄学新探
(Beijing: Fangzhi Chubanshe).
3. Wang Bi 王弼, Wang Bi ji jiaoshi 王弼集校釋, annotated by Lou Yulie 樓宇烈. (Bei-
jing: Zhonghua shuju.1980),591–620.
4. Richard J. Lynn, trans., The Classic of Changes: A New Translation of the I Ching
as Interpreted by Wang Bi (New York: Columbia University Press, 1994), 25–39.
5. For a discussion of Heidegger’s phenomenology of Being as a quest for “the mean-
ing of being” in everyday life, see Hubert L. Dreyfus and Mark A. Wrathall, eds., A
Companion to Phenomenology and Existentialism (Oxford: Blackwell Publishing
Ltd, 2005), especially 1-15, 193-213; and Thomas Sheean, Making Sense of Heideg-
ger: A Paradigm Shift (London: Rowman & Littlefield, 2015), 111–132.
6. There are three more essays in General Comments on the Changes of the Zhou:
“Considering the Line Positions” (Bian wei), “General Remarks, Part Two” (Lüeli
xia), and “Cursory Remarks on Some Hexagrams” (Gua lüe). Although they are
important to understanding Wang Bi’s interpretation of the Yijing, they are not as
significant as the other four in explaining a philosophy of change. Moreover, some
of the arguments in these three essays (especially in “Considering the Line Posi-
tions”) are included in the four essays.
7. Elsewhere I call Wang Bi’s philosophy “an ontology of change” to highlight its simi-
larity with Heidegger’s analysis of Dasein, the human mode of existence. See Tze-ki
Hon, “The Philosophy of Change (Yijing)," Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy
(May 29, 2019) (https://plato.stanford.edu/entries/chinese-change/).
8. The “Ten Wings” are: (1-2) “Tuanzhuan” 彖傳 (Commentary to the Judgments);
(3-4) “Xiangzhuan”象傳 (Commentary to the Images); (5) ”Wenyan” 文言 (Words
of the Text); (6-7) “Xici”繫辭 (Appended Statements, also known as Dazhuan大傳,
(The Great Treatise); (8) ”Shuogua” 說卦 (Explanation of the Trigrams); (9)
“Xugua” 序卦 (Hexagrams in Sequence); (10) “Zagua” 雜卦 (Hexagrams in Irregu-
lar Order).
9. Michael Nylan, The Five “Confucian” Classics (New Haven: Yale University Press,
2001), 202-52; Geoffrey Redmond and Tze-Ki Hon, Teaching the I Ching (Book of
Changes) (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2014), 1-157, Richard Smith, The I
Ching: A Biography. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2012), 1-47.
10. Wei-ming Tu, Confucian Thought: Selfhood as Creative Transformation (Albany,
NY: State University of New York Press, 1985), 35.
11. Ibid., 38-39.
12. Xici 1: chapters 3 and 8. For a translation, see Richard Wilhelm and Cary Baynes,
trans., The I Ching or Book of Changes (Princeton: Princeton University Press,
1967), 290-293, 304–308.
13. Xici 2: chapter 7. For a translation, see Wilhelm and Baynes, The I Ching or Book
of Changes, 345–348.
14. Redmond and Hon, Teaching the I Ching (Book of Changes), 128–139.
 WANG BI’S COMMENTARIES ON THE YIJING 19

15. “Xici” II: 7; Wilhelm and Baynes, The I Ching or Book of Changes, 348–49. Trans-
lation modified.
16. 206 BCE-220 CE.
17. Michael Loewe, Divination, Mythology and Monarchy in Han China (Cambridge:
Cambridge University Press, 1994); Michael Loewe, Faith, Myth and Reason in Han
China (Indianapolis: Hackett Publishing Company, 2005); Aihe Wang, Cosmology
and Political Culture in Early China (Cambridge: Cambridge University
Press, 2000).
18. Sarah Queen, From Chronicle to Canon: The Hermeneutics of the Spring and
Autumn, According to Dong Zhongshu (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.
1996), 1–53.
19. Michael Loewe, Divination, Mythology and Monarchy in Han China, 121–141; see
also Yuri Pines, Envisioning Eternal Empire: Chinese Political Thought of the War-
ring States Era (Honolulu: University of Hawaii Press, 2009), and Yuri Pines, The
Everlasting Empire: The Political Culture of Ancient China and its Imperial Legacy
(Princeton: Princeton University Press 2012).
20. ca. 195-105 BCE.
21. Redmond and Hon, Teaching the I Ching (Book of Changes), 159–61.
22. Michael Loewe, Dong Zhongshu: A Confucian Heritage and the Chunqiu Fanlu.
(Leiden: Brill, 2011); Queen, From Chronicle to Canon.
23. Lin Zhongjun 林忠軍, Zhouyi Chengshixue chanshi周易鄭氏學闡釋 (Shanghai:
Shanghai Guji Chubanshe, 2005).
24. Bent Nielsen, A Companion to Yijing Numerology and Cosmology (London:
Routledge, 2003), 3.
25. Ibid., 275–276.
26. Richard Smith, Fathoming the Cosmos and Ordering the World: The Yijing and its
Evolution in China (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2008), 62–77.
27. Nielson, A Companion to Yijing Numerology and Cosmology, 275–276.
28. Ibid., 5.
29. Ch’i-Yun Ch’en, “Confucian, Legalist, and Daoist Thought in Later Han,” in Cam-
bridge History of China, volume 1 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1986),
798–801; Richard Smith, Fathoming the Cosmos and Ordering the World, 62–88.
30. Richard J. Lynn, “Wang Bi and Xuanxue,” in Dao Companion to Daoist Philoso-
phy, edited by Xiaogan Liu (Dordrecht: Springer, 2015), 369–95; Richard J. Lynn,
The Classic of Changes, 10–15.
31. Tze-ki Hon, “Hexagrams and Politics,” 71–96.
32. Richard J. Lynn, The Classic of Changes, 25–27.
33. Ibid., 31.
34. Ibid., 31.
35. Ibid., 32.
36. Ibid., 32.
37. Ibid., 25.
38. Ibid., 25–26.
39. Ibid., 27.
40. Ibid., 28.
41. Ibid., 29.
42. For a translation of this Xici passage, see Wilhelm and Baynes, The I Ching or
Book of Changes, 310–313.
43. Richard J. Lynn, The Classic of Changes, 60–61. Translation modified.
44. Ibid., 387–396.
45. Ibid., 428–437.
46. Ibid., 29.
47. Ibid., 129.
48. Paul Tillich defines “the courage to be” as self-affirmation “that in spite of that
which tends to prevent the self from affirming itself.” See Paul Tillich, The Courage
to Be (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1952), 32.