Ian wrote to ask me:
“How can an English-speaking science graduate link to I Ching?”
Nice question, thanks!
The ‘English-speaking’ part is relatively easy: use a couple of distinctively different, good translations. Don’t be misled by the preoccupations of mad natural linguists (like this one) into believing you have to get into ancient Chinese to connect with the oracle.
And this leads me to one of the things I love about the I Ching. It is open to be explored through any way of thinking. With tarot, for instance, you’ll struggle if you don’t have a good, natural visual imagination. With astrology, I’d imagine you’d need to have a very systematic mind and a yen for calculation. The I Ching offers visual images, poetry, rhythm, metaphysics and metaphor, narrative, structure and system. I was drawn to it first through the poetry and metaphor; pure mathematicians seem to be drawn to the mysteries of its structure.
Perhaps a science graduate might enjoy some of the more systematic ways of building up the meaning of a reading: trigram ‘chemistry’, the harmonic resonances of lines. They give a sense of something ‘reproduceable’ – as if, if you could only mentally encompass the complete structure, you could deduce the meaning of a line without ever having to read its words. (I find that hard to believe – but then I’m more of a words person.)
But then again, perhaps this idea just stems from my misapprehensions about science graduates. Ian’s question intrigued me sufficiently to put it to Yi.
‘How can an English-speaking science graduate link to the I Ching?’
Yi says Hexagram 64, Not Yet Across, changing at line to Hexagram 35, Prospering.
I think the gist of this would be, “by experimenting with the creative possibilities.”
‘Not yet across, creating success.
The small fox, almost across,
Soaks its tail,
Then no direction brings harvest.’
So our newly-qualified scientist, contemplating something as outlandish as a relationship with an oracle, is like a small fox thinking about crossing a frozen river on thin ice. First he was ‘already across’ (Hexagram 63) – he’s graduated (congratulations 
); he has a very real achievement under his belt; he has some high-quality, shining new mental equipment with which to understand the world. And now he’s thinking about oracles, entering a world where that equipment might be sorely challenged.
From this reading, I’d say Yi takes this challenge and the risk it represents quite seriously. It wouldn’t do the fox any good to plunge forward blindly and fall into the mud. Hexagram 64 is all about preparing for the crossing, becoming more aware of the environment, and testing the ground every step of the way, so as not to get stranded in some impossible position. But also, it’s about constantly moving forward, never resting on one’s laurels – the world always recreated.
I suppose the question might be – if this oracle turns out to work, where will that fit with what he already knows and has achieved?
‘Fire dwells above stream. Not yet across.
Noble one thoughtfully marks out the places for things in the four directions.’
There is the light of clear awareness, the revealer of patterns – and there is dark water within, and who knows how far down or how far in the bottom might be? There needs to be some kind of ordered relation between these things – between understanding and emotion, or between known and unknown, before he can really get to grips with an oracle.
Enticing the small fox onward is an underlying awareness of the possibilities:
‘Prospering, Prince Kang used a gift of horses to breed a multitude.
He mated them three times in one day.’
There are good things to be had here, something fertile and powerful that can lead to great well-being for those who will work with it vigorously. And there’s the opportunity to use his own gifts in new ways.
So how do you explore and enjoy the new possibilities, but without losing your sense of coherence – without some crucial part of yourself being abandoned in midstream?
‘A drag on its wheels.
Constancy, good fortune.’
You put a drag on a carriage’s wheels to control its momentum as it enters the river, or as you go downhill. It prevents the vehicle getting ‘carried away’ and over-running the horses. So this is not saying “Just dive in! Immerse yourself in the experience!” – though that’s the advice I’d typically give to someone starting out with Yi. Instead, ensure you feel in control of the process. Set a limit to the number of readings you do. Consider limiting the subjects you ask about to matters that are not of immense personal importance to you. (Don’t precipitate yourself into a position where you have to decide whether to trust the oracle’s advice on something vitally important.)
What you’re undertaking here is an experiment, and experimental method is something you already know. (For any reader interested in line pathways – I’m imagining the experimental method as the protective, enchanted armour of 35.2.) You don’t have to offer up all your scientific training or convictions on the altar of divination. All that’s asked of you is a simple curiosity and willingness to experiment.