睽
kuí

38. Opposition

䷥
Above
離 lí
The Clinging, Flame
Below
兌 duì
The Joyous, Lake

This hexa­gram is com­posed of the tri­gram Li above, i.e., flame, which burns up­ward, and Tui below, i.e., the lake, which seeps down­ward. These two move­ments are in di­rect con­trast. Fur­ther­more, Li is the sec­ond daugh­ter and Tui the youngest daugh­ter, and al­though they live in the same house they be­long to dif­fer­ent men; hence their wills are not the same but are di­ver­gent­ly di­rect­ed.

The Judgement

Opposition. In small matters, good fortune.

When peo­ple live in op­po­si­tion and es­trange­ment they can­not carry out a great un­der­tak­ing in com­mon; their points of view di­verge too wide­ly. In such cir­cum­stances one should above all not pro­ceed brusque­ly, for that would only in­crease the ex­ist­ing op­po­si­tion; in­stead, one should limit one­self to pro­duc­ing grad­ual ef­fects in small mat­ters. Here suc­cess can still be H ex­pect­ed, be­cause the sit­u­a­tion is such that the op­po­si­tion does not pre­clude all agree­ment.

In gen­er­al, op­po­si­tion ap­pears as an ob­struc­tion, but when it rep­re­sents po­lar­i­ty with­in a com­pre­hen­sive whole, it has also its use­ful and im­por­tant func­tions. The op­po­si­tions of heav­en and earth, spir­it and na­ture, man and woman, when rec­on­ciled, bring about the cre­ation and re­pro­duc­tion of life. In the world of vis­i­ble things, the prin­ci­ple of op­po­sites makes pos­si­ble the dif­fer­en­ti­a­tion by cat­e­gories through which order is brought into the world.

The Image

Above, fire; below, the lake:
The image of opposition.
Thus amid all fellowship
The superior man retains his individuality.

The two el­e­ments, fire and water, never min­gle but even when in con­tact re­tain their own na­tures. So the cul­tured man is never led into base­ness or vul­gar­i­ty through in­ter­course or com­mu­ni­ty of in­ter­ests with per­sons of an­oth­er sort; re­gard­less of all com­min­gling, he will al­ways pre­serve his in­di­vid­u­al­i­ty.

The Lines

Nine at the beginning means:
Remorse disappears.
If you lose your horse, do not run after it;
It will come back of its own accord.
When you see evil people,
Guard yourself against mistakes.

Even in times when op­po­si­tions pre­vail, mis­takes can be avoid­ed, so that re­morse dis­ap­pears. When op­po­si­tion be­gins to man­i­fest it­self, a man must not try to bring about unity by force, for by so doing he would only achieve the con­trary, just as a horse goes far­ther and far­ther away if one runs after it. If it is one’s own horse, one can safe­ly let it go; it will come back of its own ac­cord. So too when some­one who be­longs with us is mo­men­tar­i­ly es­tranged be­cause of a mis­un­der­stand­ing, he will re­turn of his own ac­cord if we leave mat­ters to him. On the other hand, it is well to be cau­tious when evil men who do not be­long with us force them­selves upon us, again as the re­sult of a mis­un­der­stand­ing. Here the im­por­tant thing is to avoid mis­takes. We must not try to shake off these evil men by force; this would give rise to real hos­til­i­ty. We must sim­ply en­dure them. They will even­tu­al­ly with­draw of their own ac­cord.

Nine in the second place means:
One meets his lord in a narrow street.
No blame.

As a re­sult of mis­un­der­stand­ings, it has be­come im­pos­si­ble for peo­ple who by na­ture be­long to­geth­er to meet in the cor­rect way. This being so, an ac­ci­den­tal meet­ing under in­for­mal cir­cum­stances may serve the pur­pose, pro­vid­ed there is an inner affin­i­ty be­tween them.

Six in the third place means:
One sees the wagon dragged back,
The oxen halted,
A man’s hair and nose cut off.
Not a good beginning, but a good end.

Often it seems to a man as though every­thing were con­spir­ing against him. He sees him­self checked and hin­dered in his progress, in­sult­ed and dis­hon­ored.1 How­ev­er, he must not let him­self be mis­led; de­spite this op­po­si­tion, he must cleave to the man with whom he knows he be­longs. Thus, notwith­stand­ing the bad be­gin­ning, the mat­ter will end well.

Nine in the fourth place means:
Isolated through opposition,
One meets a like-minded man
With whom one can associate in good faith.
Despite the danger, no blame.

If a man finds him­self in a com­pa­ny of peo­ple from whom he is sep­a­rat­ed by an inner op­po­si­tion, he be­comes iso­lat­ed. But if in such a sit­u­a­tion a man meets some­one who fun­da­men­tal­ly, by the very law of his being, is kin to him, and whom he can trust com­plete­ly, he over­comes all the dan­gers of iso­la­tion. His will achieves its aim, and he be­comes free of faults.

Six in the fifth place means:
Remorse disappears.
The companion bites his way through the wrappings.
If one goes to him,
How could it be a mistake?

Com­ing upon a sin­cere man, one fails to rec­og­nize him at first be­cause of the gen­er­al es­trange­ment. How­ev­er, he bites his way through the wrap­pings that are caus­ing the sep­a­ra­tion. When such a com­pan­ion thus re­veals him­self in his true char­ac­ter, it is one’s duty to go to meet him and to work with him.

Nine at the top means:
Isolated through opposition,
One sees one’s companion as a pig covered with dirt,
As a wagon full of devils.
First one draws a bow against him,
Then one lays the bow aside.
He is not a robber; he will woo at the right time.
As one goes, rain falls; then good fortune comes.

Here the iso­la­tion is due to mis­un­der­stand­ing; it is brought about not by outer cir­cum­stances but by inner con­di­tions. A man mis­judges his best friends, tak­ing them to be as un­clean as a dirty pig and as dan­ger­ous as a wagon full of dev­ils. He adopts an at­ti­tude of de­fense. But in the end, re­al­iz­ing his mis­take, he lays aside the bow, per­ceiv­ing that the other is ap­proach­ing with the best in­ten­tions for the pur­pose of close union. 1 hus the ten­sion is re­lieved. The union re­solves the ten­sion, just as falling rain re­lieves the sul­tri­ness pre­ced­ing a thun­der­storm. All goes well, for just when op­po­si­tion reach­es its cli­max it changes over to its an­tithe­sis.