Without awareness of what the life force is doing we will continue to act when it becomes still and our action will not be supported.

The pit stops our progress through the gorge; we fall into it because we cannot see when to go on and when to stop.

When there is no activity from the inner (whole) reality and we are wandering because we are, for now, ignoring the nature of the whole, our wanderings become random, our interest is in the illusion of movement and we do not find here the sense of realness we seek.

We can experience the illusion without being entangled, without believing it to be totally real. Nothing is totally real except the whole, and by its nature identity cannot experience this as part of the smallness. The misfortune is losing touch with the whole.

A feeling of unreality gives rise to the idea that circumstances are unsatisfactory and this drives the wanderer on. In this moving line this feeling becomes less active so we can rest a while in ordinary circumstances—these appear to be real again and support identity.

An inn is a place for a temporary stay while wandering, and any wanderer’s valuables are his beliefs and principles; so we have settled into our reality and are not searching at the moment. We are helped in this by loyal feeling, a sense of realness that does not desert us; feeling is the servant of identity, providing what it needs to identify amongst; here it is tranquil (yang).

With an increase in outer activity the feeling of unreality in it all returns, as it must because the wanderer is not wandering purposelessly but to find a different sense of the real. When we lose our sense of purpose in outer activity it can no longer support our own sense of being real or justified.

The inn and the young servant are explained in line 2, which makes their context easy to see here. The feeling of danger is of insecurity, danger to feeling worthwhile.

Now we are interested in the idea of being inactive, doubting that all this wandering is a good idea, so we settle down where we are. Although we are accepting our outer reality as it is, unstimulating, this is not going to change anything, but to treat it as a rest is more real, for our wandering is not completed yet.

Innerly our valuables are the identifications we have chosen and the axe symbolizes our defence of these; so according to the image we do not change ourselves, and as joy comes only with the flow of change we feel no joy, but we have rest.

We are less in our feelings of wandering; wandering is not the important thing it was. Innerly wandering is searching for something outside ourselves that feels more satisfying, more nourishing; here we find that this is not the way, and this is itself a new direction for us.

He gains nourishment (the pheasant) and loses direction (the arrow). His direction was wandering, and exchanging this for nourishment in his present situation is the end of wandering and creates an established presence (office) and recognition (praise).

When our outer reality becomes unsatisfactory we wander. Here in this line we are accepting wandering as a way of being and this will not be fulfilling for very long because it is not just that we are in a bad place—all outer identification feels lacking.

The bird is a symbol of spirit or whole reality and its nest is where it raises its young; our being cannot raise more young (new experience) if we stay in outer identification; the new comes from the inner. At first, being out in defined reality seems clear and to be a solution, but nothing new comes and it becomes a repetition. When the inner is included in our sense of the real, new experience comes fresh each day, like the service of a cow—this we carelessly lose.

Where new energy is becoming available we may look for nourishment in some new experience from the life force rather than that available in our present circumstances.

Tortoise shells were used for divination, and divination is the link between the outer and inner knowing; without the link we lose the thread of what experience is about—nourishing the inner self from outer experience. What is needed is in our experience now.

Intuitive feeling is necessary for us to know our circumstances and if we cannot feel our circumstances we seek nourishment elsewhere.

Both below and above identity in the hexagram we come to the inner, and this hexagram is about nourishing the inner through outer experience; so to seek the emerging life force is to look to nourishment coming to identity in the future, which is not correct or proper, not existing. To look to the inner being for nourishment is to look to what is already formed so it is narrowing or evil.

In this tao outer activity is the source of experience and is essential to nourishment, without our taking part in outer experience the tao is useless to us.

When we avoid outer experience at the time it is offered in our circumstances it is lost and the nourishment of it cannot be had until such circumstances come to us again; this is symbolically the complete cycle of ten years.

Outer activity in the world is an essential part of this tao from which we gain nourishment; we do not, however, benefit from owning that activity and so nourishing our separate ego-being. Here in this line we diminish our owning of outer activity and so can participate more because with less desire we have a wider view.

A hunter which has perfected the art of being alert; the tiger. Looking down he has a wide view. On the mountain we also have a wide view which comes from a vantage point of disinvolvement.

We normally accept ourselves to be as we feel ourselves to be (which is the interpretation line 5 puts upon line 2). Here we are less aware.

Without a feeling of ourselves in our circumstances action becomes hazardous so it is inadvisable to instigate changes.

The inner being accepts nourishment and is the source of outer nourishment while doing so. The position has a fine balance and so has a danger of imbalance; either way it is the producer of a flow of nourishment.

Crossing the great water is changing our way of being, and experiencing without choice makes this change, but if we choose we are fed from past experience, not from the source of nourishment, the present.