Why I love the I Ching
The I Ching has been a peerless friend to me for nearly 29 years now; in fact, the first question I asked the oracle was about a friendship gone strange. Guess which hexagram arose? Of course: 13 -- which is often translated as FRIENDSHIP.
Once I tossed my coins in a terrible snit, spinning my cognitive wheels in a rut ten feet deep (and counting). "What the hell am I supposed to let go of!?" The wisecracking sage shot back: 59, DISPERSION. Unchanging. Just. Let. Go! I fell over laughing.
Recently I cast my coins with grave concern for someone I love who may be close to a live-or-die crossroads with addiction. I basically cried Help -- and the oracle responded with 33, RETREAT. Unchanging. My loved one is clinging for life to what likely will kill him ... and I've come to understand the harrowing liberation of faith when all that can be said and done has been said and done. I understand the flinging out of what we call prayer, and the erosion of heart that occurs when we must submit to fate. No promises; no guarantees -- except that something will change. Meanwhile, the helpless urge to love remains ... and there is the pain of it: the directive to stand back, or go down with a sinking ship.
I will sink too, one day; being alive guarantees eventual death. But how will I live -- today; right now? What will I do with my mind, my thoughts, my intent?
It's said that our two fundamental prayers are Help! and Thank You.
The I Ching is my altar of prayer ...
Paintings: "The Oracle" (top) and "Sharing Rays" (lower)
by Amanda Sage.
Once I tossed my coins in a terrible snit, spinning my cognitive wheels in a rut ten feet deep (and counting). "What the hell am I supposed to let go of!?" The wisecracking sage shot back: 59, DISPERSION. Unchanging. Just. Let. Go! I fell over laughing.
Recently I cast my coins with grave concern for someone I love who may be close to a live-or-die crossroads with addiction. I basically cried Help -- and the oracle responded with 33, RETREAT. Unchanging. My loved one is clinging for life to what likely will kill him ... and I've come to understand the harrowing liberation of faith when all that can be said and done has been said and done. I understand the flinging out of what we call prayer, and the erosion of heart that occurs when we must submit to fate. No promises; no guarantees -- except that something will change. Meanwhile, the helpless urge to love remains ... and there is the pain of it: the directive to stand back, or go down with a sinking ship.
I will sink too, one day; being alive guarantees eventual death. But how will I live -- today; right now? What will I do with my mind, my thoughts, my intent?
It's said that our two fundamental prayers are Help! and Thank You.
The I Ching is my altar of prayer ...
Paintings: "The Oracle" (top) and "Sharing Rays" (lower)
by Amanda Sage.
Amanda's creations are also featured here.
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Adele