"... She's got everything she needs, she's an artist, she's free to look back if she wants to..."

"... And reads us stories out of the I Ching ..."

Yesterday YouTube churned up a song I remember well from 1967, the year I bought the Richard Wilhelm copy of the I Ching for three reasons.  One was that Bob Dylan had mentioned it in an interview, second was that Country Joe and the Fish mentioned it, and third was that my college roommate had a copy and taught me how to use pennies to consult the I Ching.

Today Blogger let me know that someone had visited one of my old posts which mentions the I Ching:

"It is very difficult to bring quiet to the heart."

"True quiet means keeping still when the time has come to keep still, and going forward when the time has come to go forward. In this way rest and movement are in agreement with the demands of the time, and thus there is light in life."

For some reason today, my attention was drawn to my blog archive:

Interesting to see that during my first year of blogging I posted almost every day of the week and that ever since I have not come close to that.  The smallest number of posts were during my last year working as a medical transcriptionist before I retired.  The largest number of posts were the year after the year R died.  Given that this is only August of 2021, I'm well on my way to an unusually prodigious year of blogging.

December 8, 2021, will be the 15th birthday of my blog.  I find it astonishing to think about all that has come to pass during these years and am grateful for the lasting connections made with blog friends near and far in this unforeseen community.

 

Spontaneous Hexagram 62 / Canada Goose / The beginnings of Mandala #31

The lovely carved Canada Goose that inspired me to begin Mandala #31 is signed "Aningayou." I don't recall looking at the signature since before the days of the internet.  Otherwise, I am sure that I would have researched the name before today.  Although I could have sworn that the carving was given to me by my youngest sister in the 1990s, a little bit of googling shows that the artist, Chris Aningayou, was born in 1983 and lives in Nome, Alaska.  Given that he would have been 20 years old in 2003 and that I am absolutely sure that my sister gave it to me previous to that, it appears that he must have carved it as a teenager.

While out walking a few days ago, I noticed some scattered pieces of a downed tree that made me think of the I Ching.  I arranged them into two trigrams and photographed them.  When I was home again, I put them together as a hexagram which turned out to be:

62.  Hsaio Kuo / Preponderance of the Small (Thunder On The Mountain)

The structure of the hexagram gives rise to the idea that this message is brought by a bird ...

(Source: Scroll down to Hexagram 62)

BRIDGE OVER WHATCOM CREEK AT 70 AS I APPROACH 60

60. Chieh / Limitation

A lake occupies a limited space. When more water comes into it, it overflows. Therefore limits must be set for the water. The image shows water below and water above, with the firmament between them as a limit.

(p. 231, The I Ching or Book of Changes, Wilhelm / Baynes, Third Edition, July 1967)

And then there's "Love Minus Zero / No Limit":



"The bridge at midnight trembles."
(Bob Dylan)

Where am I going with this?

Forward.

Update: Even if the comments function disappeared on this post.

UNTO

Here's another question from the I Ching:

Return to the way.
How could there be blame in this?
Good fortune.
(p. 41, Richard Wilhelm / Cary F. Baynes translation)

And something I found at wood s lot, with some questions from Cesar Vallejo:

I AM GOING TO TALK ABOUT HOPE

César Vallejo

I do not feel this suffering as Cesar Vallejo. I am not suffering now as a creative person, or as a man, nor even as a simple living being. I don't feel this pain as a Catholic, or as a Mohammedan, or as an atheist. Today I am simply in pain. If my name weren't Cesar Vallejo, I'd still feel it. If I weren't an artist, I'd still feel it. If I weren't a man, or even a living being, I'd still feel it. If I weren't a Catholic, or an atheist, or a Mohammedan, I'd still feel it. Today I am in pain from further down. Today I am simply in pain.

The pain I have has no explanations. My pain is so deep that it never had a cause, and has no need of a cause. What could have its cause been? Where is that thing so important that it stopped being its cause? Its cause is nothing, and nothing could have stopped being its cause. Why has this pain been born all on its own? My pain comes from the north wind and and from the south wind, like those hermaphrodite eggs that some rare birds lay conceived of the wind. If my bride were dead, my suffering would still be the same. If they had slashed my throat all the way through, my suffering would still be the same. If life, in other words, were different, my suffering would still be the same. Today I'm in pain from higher up. Today I am simply in pain.

I look at the hungry man's pain, and I see that his hunger walks somewhere so far from my pain that if I fasted until death, one blade of grass at least would always sprout from my grave. And the same with the lover! His blood is too fertile for mine, which has no source and no one to drink it.

I always believed up till now that all things in the world had to be either fathers or sons. But here is my pain that is neither a father nor a son. It hasn't any back to get dark, and it has too bold a front for dawning, and if they put it into some dark room, it wouldn't give light, and if they put it into some brightly lit room, it wouldn't cast a shadow. Today I am in pain, no matter what happens. Today I am simply in pain.

unto (un'too); unstressed un'tᵊ (prep. Archaic. 1. to (in its various uses, except as the accompaniment of the infinitive). 2. until; till. [ME; modeled on the word "until"]

THE I CHING OR BOOK OF CHANGES

How can I be useful, of what service can I be? There is something inside me, what can it be?
(Vincent van Gogh, 1853-1890)

"A good question is never answered. It is not a bolt to be tightened into place but a seed to be planted and to bear more seed toward the hope of greening the landscape of idea."
(John Ciardi, 1916-1986)

Looking for a question rather than an answer,
I opened my copy of the Richard Wilhelm / Cary F. Baynes
translation of the I CHING OR BOOK OF CHANGES and found
this on page 158:

"It furthers one to undertake something.
How is this to be carried out?"

FIRST SNOW / GREEN MOUNTAIN

In my growing-up years, when I lived with my family on the west side of San Francisco Bay, we could occasionally see snow at the very top of Mt. Diablo, about 40 miles to the northeast. Until years after I left California in August of 1973, I never walked on Mt. Diablo. When I was a child, it was the highest place in my world and a wonder to me because it was far away and sometimes had snow on it. Mount Diablo is sacred to many California Native American peoples; according to Miwok mythology and Ohlone mythology, it was the point of creation. Mount Diablo and Reed’s Peak were surrounded by water. From these two islands the creator Coyote and his assistant Eagle-man made Indian people and the world. (from an excellent article about Mt. Diablo.) As a child living in the relative lowlands of California, I "touched" snow only twice that I can recall, except when we visited our relatives in Minnesota. The first time must have been in the winter of 1955 or 1956, when there was snow in the "Lost Hills" near the town of Taft, which is in the San Joaquin Valley in south central California. Our parents, both from Minnesota, made a special trip from Taft, where we lived, so that we could see snow. The second time was probably in the early 1960's, when there was a light layer of snow in our backyard when we woke up one Sunday morning. I remember my mother waking me and my sisters and encouraging us to look outside. I remember that moment of amazement when I saw the snow. Of course, we immediately wanted to go outside and "touch" the snow. After we had "touched" the snow, we had to get dressed for church. The snow was such a novelty that we were one of the few families who attended our church that day. By the time we returned from church, the snow had melted. In 1967, when I first read portions of the Richard Wilhelm / Cary F. Baynes translation of I Ching and learned that the name of the 52nd hexagram was translated as "Keeping Still, Mountain," the mountain I pictured was Mt. Diablo. My mountain was a green California mountain in winter, not a snowy mountain. It doesn't seem that long ago that I read these words for the first time, looking to the I Ching for guidance in that first year that I was friends with R: "It is very difficult to bring quiet to the heart." "True quiet means keeping still when the time has come to keep still, and going forward when the time has come to go forward. In this way rest and movement are in agreement with the demands of the time, and thus there is light in life." It's foggy here this morning. 40 degrees. Yesterday was the first day I was able to take a long walk since December 13, when the snow began. When I looked out the window just now, five Trumpeter Swans flew overhead toward the west!

Calendar Series: 38th Month / Innocence (The Unexpected) (1988)

Not exactly sure why I titled this image with the name of the 25th hexagam of the I Ching. I do remember the first dramatic view of the Pacific Ocean on the way out of San Francisco on Highway 1 going south and remember wanting to paint how it felt to see that. Up near the setting full moon, which appears to be eclipsed, are the number symbols from the six sides of a European-style die. I must have been wondering if there is a connection between dice and hexagrams. To read the text for the 25th hexagram, click here. Below are two of my pastel drawings posted previously, in which an eclipsed full moon appears. Self-Portrait of an Old Friend as a Young Man (1982): and Middle of the Journey (1984):

Calendar Series: 28th Month / Return (The Turning Point) (1988)

Return (The Turning Point) is the 24th hexagram in the I Ching or Book of Changes. 

In the late 1960s, learning that Bob Dylan had been reading the I Ching, I became curious about that book. My college roommate had a copy of the Wilhelm/Baynes translation, the 3rd edition, and she showed me how to consult the I Ching using three pennies. Eventually I bought my own copy. The last time I consulted the I Ching was January 1, 2006. Maybe it's time to consult it again. 

 The following is the Wilhelm/Baynes translation for hexagram 24: 

 24. Fu / Return (The Turning Point) above K'UN THE RECEPTIVE, EARTH below CHêN THE AROUSING, THUNDER The idea of a turning point arises from the fact that after the dark lines have pushed all of the light lines upward and out of the hexagram, another light line enters the hexagram from below. The time of darkness is past. The winter solstice brings the victory of light. This hexagram is linked with the eleventh month, the month of the solstice (December-January). 

 THE JUDGMENT 

RETURN. Success. Going out and coming in without error. Friends come without blame. To and fro goes the way. On the seventh day comes return. It furthers one to have somewhere to go. After a time of decay comes the turning point. The powerful light that has been banished returns. There is movement, but it is not brought about by force. The upper trigram K'un is characterized by devotion; thus the movement is natural, arising spontaneously. For this reason the transformation of the old becomes easy. The old is discarded and the new is introduced. Both measures accord with the time; therefore no harm results. Societies of people sharing the same views are formed. But since these groups come together in full public knowledge and are in harmony with the time, all selfish separatist tendencies are excluded, and no mistake is made. 

The idea of RETURN is based on the course of nature. The movement is cyclic, and the course completes itself. Therefore it is not necessary to hasten anything artificially. Everything comes of itself at the appointed time. This is the meaning of heaven and earth. All movements are accomplished in six stages, and the seventh brings return. Thus the winter solstice, with which the decline of the year begins, comes in the seventh month after the summer solstice; so too sunrise comes in the seventh double hour after sunset. Therefore seven is the number of the young light, and it arises when six, the number of the great darkness, is increased by one. In this way the state of rest gives place to movement.

THE IMAGE Thunder within the earth: The image of THE TURNING POINT. Thus the kings of antiquity closed the passes At the time of solstice. Merchants and strangers did not go about, And the ruler Did not travel through the provinces. The winter solstice has always been celebrated in China as the resting time of the year--a custom that survives in the time of rest observed at the new year. In winter the life energy, symbolized by thunder, the Arousing, is still underground. Movement is just at its beginning; therefore it must be strengthened by rest so that it will not be dissipated by being used prematurely. This principle, i.e., of allowing energy that is renewing itself to be reinforced by rest, applies to all similar situations. The return of health after illness, the return of understanding after an estrangement: everything must be treated tenderly and with care at the beginning, so that the return may lead to a flowering.