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Chapter 4 of 35
周易参同契
Confucius thus extolled the primordial Hundun state of undifferentiated chaos—the virtue of Qian and Kun (the two fundamental forces of heaven and earth, yin and yang) penetrating through the void. Tracing back to the distant age of the Yuanhuang (Primal August One), beginning from the human ethical order symbolized by the Guan Ju (the first ode in the Book of Songs), the capping ceremony and marriage rites bound yin and yang energies together, much like the first sprouts of vital force emerging with the new year.
Sages never descend into the world in vain; they observe the celestial patterns above and reveal the correspondences of the Heavenly Way. These celestial correspondences advance and retreat, yield and extend—all transforming in accordance with the seasons. Thus the Book of Changes governs the rhythm of Heaven's mind—the Fu hexagram (, the image of one yang line emerging at the bottom) marks the initial stirring of all living things. The eldest son inherits the yang of the father's body, yet relies upon the yin of the mother to establish the foundation of growth.
The waxing and waning of yin and yang accord with the pitch-pipes' measure; the pivot of ascending and descending follows the turning of the Northern Dipper. On the third day of the lunar month, a crescent moon appears in the west, corresponding to the Zhen hexagram (☳, the image of thunder stirring) receiving the geng metal position. On the eighth day, the moon's light gradually fills, corresponding to the Dui hexagram (☱, the image of the lake's joy) receiving the ding fire position—this is the first quarter moon, its face as straight as a cord. By the fifteenth day, the Qian hexagram (☰, the image of pure yang) reaches its full form, the lunar disk full and bright at the jia wood position in the east.
The toad and the hare's essence—the ancients used the toad to symbolize the moon's vital spirit, and the jade hare to represent the light that gives birth—the energies of sun and moon shine forth in dual brilliance. The toad appears and vanishes according to the rhythm of the hexagrams, while the jade hare emits the light of growth. When the number seven-and-eight (seven being lesser yang, eight being lesser yin) reaches its end, the moon's face begins to curve and descend. On the sixteenth day, the moon's phase passes to the governance of the Xun hexagram (☴, the image of wind entering), appearing at the xin position at dawn's first light. On the twenty-third day, the Gen hexagram (☶, the image of the mountain's stillness) holds its place at the bing position in the south—this is the last quarter moon. By the thirtieth day, the Kun hexagram (☷, the image of pure yin) takes its position at yi, the moon's spirit hidden in the northeast—"losing its companions" precisely refers to yin reaching its extreme and light being temporarily concealed.
When one rhythmic cycle ends, it yields and alternates; the new month's vitality joins and sprouts anew, like the dragon (yang energy) awakening once more. Ren and gui pair with jia and yi—in the Heavenly Stems, ren and gui belong to water and reside in the north; jia and yi belong to wood and reside in the east; water generates wood—the two hexagrams Qian and Kun encompass the beginning and end of all cycles. Seven plus eight equals fifteen; nine plus six also equals fifteen; the four numbers together make thirty—this is the process of yang energy turning from abundance to decline, withering and storing itself away.
The eight trigrams are arrayed like stars in the sky, revolving and shifting yet never losing the central Way. That original yuanjing (the primal, subtle essence from which all things arise) is too subtle to be seen; it can only be verified through calculating degrees and inferring correspondences. In stillness, observe the hexagram images, pondering their forms and appearances; erect a gnomon as a standard, determining good and ill fortune through observing signs; issue commands in accordance with the seasons and solar terms, not missing the moment when the yao lines move.
Look upward to examine the patterns of the River Chart, look downward to order the veins of terrain and waterways, and in the middle, examine the tendencies of the human heart—joining and verifying the Way of the Three Powers (Heaven, Earth, and Humanity). In action, follow the rhythm of the hexagrams; in stillness, accord with the meaning of the tuan judgments. When the Way of Qian and Kun flows through and penetrates all, the world is brought to great order.
The central teaching of this chapter lies in using the lunar cycle as an analogy, revealing how the celestial rhythm of yin-yang waxing and waning maps onto human affairs and the cultivation of mind and nature. Through the system of hexagrams in the Book of Changes, the author sequentially maps the moon's phases—initial birth, gradual filling, full abundance, waning, and dark concealment—onto the waxing and waning of yin and yang, demonstrating that:
"Observing above" here does not mean simple astronomical observation, but rather a way of embodying the Way: by perceiving the correspondences of Heaven's operation, one comprehends the principle of yin-yang waxing and waning, and thereby grasps the wisdom of "timing."
For modern readers, the deepest revelation of this passage lies in the insight into "cycles" and "rhythms." The moon waxes and wanes, qi rises and falls, and the development of things never proceeds in straight lines, but unfolds in wave-like patterns of growth and decline. This resonates remarkably with what modern people know as business cycles, emotional rhythms, biological cycles, and the ebb and flow of creativity.
The greatest misconception of modern people is wanting only the "full moon" and not the "dark day"—wanting to dwell only in the fullness of the Qian hexagram while despising the concealment of the Kun hexagram. But this chapter tells us: the Kun of the thirtieth day is precisely the prerequisite for the Zhen of the following month's third day. Without the retreat of "losing one's companions," there is no return of the "dragon reborn." This stands in contrast to the contemporary obsession with "efficiency," "never being tired," and "sustained growth"—Daoism tells us that decline is not failure, but part of the rhythm.
"Issue commands in accordance with the seasons; do not miss the moment of yao movement"—this is a reminder of timing consciousness for modern people. The yao moves at its own time, like a window of opportunity; once that moment passes, the same action yields entirely different results. This echoes the modern management insight that "timing matters more than effort."
Furthermore, "the primal essence is too subtle to be seen; infer and calculate to verify its correspondences" suggests: the forces that truly determine the direction of things are often subtle and difficult to perceive, requiring patient, careful observation and inference—not rashness and subjective assumption.
This chapter contains a profound cosmology of rhythm: existence is not static but unfolds continuously in the rhythm of "advance–retreat, yield–extend, ascend–descend, flourish–decay." The hexagram system here is not a divination tool but an abstract coding of phenomena—it gathers the changes of heaven, earth, and humanity into a single framework of numerical rhythm.
The philosophical significance of this approach lies in its assumption that the microcosmic and macrocosmic share the same structure, and the inner and outer follow the same law. There exists a certain "correspondence" between the human body-mind state and the lunar phases and hexagrams. This idea of "heaven-human isomorphism," in contemporary terms, can be understood as a kind of ecological holism—human beings are not isolated agents but embedded within a larger rhythm of life.
However, one point requires careful consideration: whether the "correspondence" between lunar phases and human affairs is a profound metaphor at the philosophical level, or an empirically verifiable causal relationship. The Daoist tradition leans toward the former—the hexagrams are "images" that help people understand the rhythm of the Way, not "fates" that determine destiny. Grasping this distinction allows one to avoid sliding Daoist wisdom into mechanical fatalism or superstitious divination.
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This content is based on a classical Daoist text and is provided solely for traditional cultural study and life reference. It does not constitute religious, medical, or investment advice.