Activity is identity’s chosen role; here we feel the inactivity of the life force and fear for our ability to act.

In the darkness (activity is the “light” of consciousness) there are calls for light, for activity to avert extinction of our ability to identify, but we are armed with the light of the tao—the movement will come when it comes, we need not fear to miss but we will stay alert, that is how we are armed.

Here we are not peaceful enough to withstand the anticipation of the tao and we create outer activity which will divert the life flow.

The cheekbones enable us to read determination in another’s face; here there is this power of self-will which is misfortunate in this context because no amount of it can be effective and it produces stress with no flow for its relief. The wide-seeing superior man is just going about his business, not trying to push things, and this is correct in our present circumstances.

Here we are involving our identity in outer inactivity, which is to say we are worried about it and consider it a problem to be solved; this is an impatience for activity and is not supported by the life force.

The muscles of the thigh carry us forward, and here there is no support from the life force if we go forward. If we were following the life force we would not have this problem.

The emerging life force ceases to provide new activity for us to identify. Interaction goes on within us (the Ting) acting upon itself; our attitudes change.

To have sons, a re-birth of our line, we must mate. To clear out old ways we have we must invert the sacrificial vessel. In both these we change our judgement of rules as to what is important—that the sacred vessel should be venerated no matter what it contains, or that to take a concubine is an indulgence. This is the root of changing ourselves, we no longer assume what we have previously taken as our law.

When feeling is active there is activity within the Ting, for it is we who are the sacrificial cooking pot in this tao. It is within, not dependent upon the other, an internal fermentation which will produce a new compound of ourselves. In this we resolve problems that have seemed insoluble.

For “the others” some translators have used “the enemy” and others “the comrades”; the important idea is that this is an inner state undisturbed by what goes on outside.

Our particular inner activity in this tao is not related to outer activity, hence the image of it going on within a pot, so the increase of outer activity in this line is a distraction from the tao, a misunderstanding of it.

When we embark on outer action our movements are governed by outer factors (we change the outside of the Ting) and the inner changes (the fat of the pheasant) are not experienced. Rain produces new growths, so progress, the lack of which we regret, returns when conditions become suitable again.

In this tao we have an inactive outer reality; If identity becomes involved there we remove our support of the changes going on within.

The Ting has three short legs upon which it stands, supporting it off the ground, the world, and these symbolize our connection with the outer. In this line we reject our separation from the outer reality and so start projecting our reality upon it which has the image of spilling ourselves.

Here we become less involved in the inactivity of intuitive feeling (line 2); as we cease to judge it and so tie it down we can move with the tao (our circumstances) once more.

This change enables the movement of the Ting to be active (yellow handles), we are centred in our inner self and outer value (gold) is one with eternal value (the rings). Continuing with this brings good fortune, which is remaining centred so that, in the image, we carry our Ting always without spilling it—without identifying ourselves outside.

To be involved in the emerging life force here is to actually be the change that the tao represents; we do not accomplish change, we are changed, we become change itself as our mode of being.

Jade has the illusive quality of perfection, of just-so-ness, a quality that cannot quite be captured in words and if so captured does not sing. This quality is similarly undefinable here where we are so centred that we are the centre.

It is the deep emerging life force that is showing activity, so it is not yet time for us to manifest this—that will come in due course. Having deep knowing that this activity is there helps us to restrain our impatience for action, and holding this like a secret love in our heart is part of the richness of this tao.

The dragon is an ominous symbol, it is a dynamic expression of the life energy which, here, is still hidden from conscious manifestation.

Here, activity begins to show in our feelings, which are our earliest manifestation of the life force, but we need to avoid narrowing this down to action too soon; keep it open and feel, for this is the tao of creation itself and if we do not interpose with our own pattern, we are privileged to know ourselves as part of the inevitable. In practice, we keep our options open.

The life energy is in the open because it is manifesting in our feeling and it benefits us to experience this widely; to see the great man is to attend to our greater awareness. In terms of the oracle greatness is always wideness, including more—it is not power.

In the tao of the creative there is great power and when this comes to manifestation, we may feel overburdened by it if we think it is we who are doing it. This only brings on unnecessary worry, but if we remember that taking part is not taking possession, there is no danger in this line.

The day symbolizes the activity in the world and the night a withdrawal of activity to the inner. The superior man is the one who follows the tao, and the danger to him (to our following the tao) is over-involvement, yet we have to be involved. There is no dividing line here to observe, hence the danger.

Here we interest ourselves in the inactivity of line 3 and we may be tempted to be intentionally inactive, but this is _doing_ and not in keeping with this tao of the creative doing itself. It is necessary to fall effortlessly into the activity of the creative, which is neither being active nor withholding activity.

The chasm is this void that happens when we discount ourselves, trying not to _do_. Here we hesitate to relax because we feel the need to control even our inactivity. Identity feels threatened by not _doing_ and this is part of its nature, not an error or failure on our part.

Here we are identifying ourselves with unchanging feeling (line 2). We have difficulty in identifying with the non-active as there seems to be nothing there.

Dragons are the flow of earth energy—things we normally identify with—and here our identifications are out of place unless heaven itself (Ch’ien) can be felt.

To accept ourselves as the life force and tao is to confuse ourselves with the whole—in the tao of the creative we then think we are the creators.

It is particularly contrary to this tao for us to take charge of things. We are then deprived of the experience of the creative itself; we only experience ourselves.