Jung, the Tao and the Classic of Change

Stephen Karcher Ph.D.

Harvest: A Journal for Jungian Studies 1999, vol. 45, No. 2

The ideas presented here were elaborated in a series of lectures and seminars given in London
and Cambridge in early 1999 and benefited greatly from participants' comments. In it, I look
at the connection between Jung's psychology and the Chinese oracle book called I Ching,
usually translated as Classic of Change, and some of the implications it has for both depth
psychology and the act of divination. This connection centers on a mysterious symbolic
awareness that Chinese philosophers call tao or way. This symbolic awareness involved Jung,
his psychology and his readers in a very special orientation, a Journey to the East.

Jung's Orientation
At first glance Jung's contact with the East 1 seems quite ambivalent. On the one hand, Jung's
orientation helped him to imagine the way the psyche worked. The dialogue with Eastern
religious practices helped shape his main ideas: the self and individuation, the function of the
archetypes, the dynamics of the psyche and the autonomous complex were all profoundly
influenced by Eastern thought. It mobilized his great creative energy. On the other hand, Jung
constantly railed against Europeans who too facilely took up eastern ways and "shirked" their
cultural duty. This very harsh criticism was aimed specifically at Theosophists and "yoga
enthusiasts" who, in his opinion, were pretending to be something they were not (CW 9i, 2129, 1934). 2 For Jung's orientation also made him painfully aware of the West's cultural ills:
its greedy materialism, its worship of scientific rationalism and its adoration of the ego. We are
spiritual beggars, he maintained, and we have no business putting on borrowed riches.

But more than anything else, Jung's orientation is reflected in his involvement with tao, the
central term in Chinese thought that he saw as the true spirit of the East (CW8, 78/90,
1930). This involvement was not just professional; it was a crucial part of his spiritual and
creative life. The East is our philosopher's stone, he said again and again. It is the catalyst
through which change takes place. It is at the bottom of the spiritual change we are passing
through and out of its depths new spiritual forms will arise. Our growing familiarity with the
spirit of the East was a sign that we are finally beginning to relate to the alien elements in
ourselves (CW13, 72, 1929). Jung encountered the tao during his own confrontation with
the unconscious and it acted as the basis for all his later thought.
The first time we meet tao in Jung's writing in is Psychological Types. It is described through a
series of quotations from the Tao te ching, 3 the fifth century BCE classic of philosophical
Taoism (CW6, 358-369, 1921; see also 916-924, 1952). Tao, according to Jung, is elusive.
Westerners have translated it as way, method, principle, life force, process of nature, idea of
the world, primal cause, the right, the good, the moral order or God.4 It is an image without
substance that depends on nothing, the mother of all things. If you can be without compulsive
desire, you can see it. The soul can be emptied and it is tao that fills the emptiness. You have
insight and have no need of intellectual knowledge (CW8, 917ff, 1952).
Jung saw this tao as an irrational union of opposites, a psychological attitude that frees
you from their conflict. It tames all that is wild without purifying or transforming it into
something higher, he said. Our Western mind, which lacks all culture in this respect, never
devised a concept for the union of opposites that could compare with the Chinese sense of tao.
Tao is the most legitimate fulfillment of the meaning of the individual's life. It signifies the
emergence of a new center of the personality no longer the ego, a point halfway between
conscious and unconscious. It is a new equilibrium, a new center of the whole personality, a
new and more solid foundation. It is the humans individual fate. Submission to this inner
guidance and its quieting effect is of primary importance in human life (CW7, 327/365,
1945).
2

According to Jung, what the Chinese sages call tao is a method to unite what is separated, the
separation of consciousness and life. It is the realization of the opposite hidden in the
unconscious, the reversal or reunion with the unconscious laws of our own being. Tao grows
out of the individual, he maintained (CW13, 30/80, 1929). It is the restoration of the world,
the union of yin and yang, the unio mentalis and the substance of Heaven (CW14, 711,
1954). This undiscovered vein within us is a living part of the psyche, a flow of life-water that
moves irresistibly toward its goal. To rest in tao means fulfillment, wholeness, mission done,
the perfect realization of the meaning of existence innate in things. Personality is tao (CW17,
323, 1934).

Tao and Synchonicity

Thus Jung used tao to describe both the process and the goal of his psychology, the emergence
of a new center in the personality. He had another, more western term that he used
interchangeably with tao. The eastern word for non-causality is tao, he said, and we know
that tao can be anything; I call it synchronicity. 5 He first used this word, he says, in his tribute
to Richard Wilhelm in 1930. Here is an example of Jung's synchronicity. Say you are standing
on the seashore and the waves wash in an old hat, a box, a shoe, a dead fish and a condom.
When asked to comment on this ominous occurrence, you, like a good westerner, will
comment: Nonsense! The Chinese gentleman beside you, however, says: What does it mean
that these things occur together? You see, Jung remarks, he is using a method of forecasting
possibilities and recognizing meaning that I call tao or synchronicity (CW18, 143-144,
1935).
For Jung, space and time in the psyche are elastic and only become fixed in consciousness
because of our inveterate need to measure and categorize our experience. As we do this, we
invariably repress significant conflicted parts. These repressed and thus unconscious
dimensions of experience will, sooner or later, constellate and break through into
consciousness as affect. To make this an experience of synchronicity, two things happen: an
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image or affect emerges into consciousness and we experience an objective situation that
somehow coincides with the image. This is the omen, and it represents the opening of a
dialogue with the Way.
We must rely on the irrational, on sensation and intuition to grasp this connection. We
need a constant renewal of emotion with its characteristic abaissement mental that tips
the scales in favor of the unconscious. It is a kind of creatio ex nihilo that we cannot
really explain. Mantic procedures all owe their effectiveness to this connection to the
emotions. They stimulate interest, curiosity, expectation, hope and fear - the
preponderance of the unconscious.
(CW8, 863/912, 1952).
Synchronicity asserts that the terms of this coincidence are connected by a simultaneity of
meaning, individual meaning. This is what Wilhelm called tao, Jung states: It is meaning,
Sinn, a borderline conception lying at the extreme edge of the world. It is a kind of gnosis, a
knowing or acquaintance with spirit that creates a way out of the world of material cause and
effect. It is the continuous creation of a pattern that exists from all eternity (CW8, 921,
1952).

Die Schule der Weisheit

In 1923-24, two very important events occurred in the annals of depth psychology. A German
Evangelical missionary to China, proud of the fact he had never converted a single Chinese,
prepared to publish his translation of an old book called I Ching.

As he did so, he

encountered a Swiss psychologist at Keyserlings Schule der Weisheit in Darmstadt who was
passionately interested in this old Chinese book. Shortly after this meeting, C. G. Jung gave
Richard Wilhelms manuscript to Cary F. Baynes, an American woman who was studying
with him, asking her to translate it into English. It took her twenty years, but the result, the
Wilhelm/Baynes version of the I Ching, with a Foreword by Jung, became an underground
classic and Princeton University Press's biggest selling book. In Jungs words, it inoculated
its readers with the living power of tao.

Jung was passionate about the I Ching. He saw it as a way to connect with tao, the goal and
process of his psychology and the origin of synchronicity. It gave access to the "new center" of
personality that mediated between conscious and unconscious and was a way to a living
religious experience. He actively used the book and its divinatory way with friends, colleagues
and analysands, calling it a formidable psychological system that organizes the play of the
archetypes so that a reading becomes possible (CW14, 401, 1954). It was an intuitive
technique for grasping the total situation, placing it against a cosmic background which could
make the hidden qualities of the moment readable (CW8, 863, 1952). This mysterious
book was an answer to the West's spiritual needs, for its 64 polysemous symbols traced the
course of the valley spirit, the tao, winding like a dragon or a river (CW14, 636n, 1954).
For Jung realized that the I Ching does not just tell people what to do. It establishes a creative
relationship with the unconscious. It constellates the mysterious center of personality he called
tao. It is not an example of sychronicity; it creates synchronicity by giving its users access to the
place where time and space become relative. For Jung, this was a psychological and spiritual
phenomenon of the first order, and it led him to make a rather enormous statement. He
insisted that psychology in the stricter sense is bound up with the whole practical use of the I
Ching. 6 We can sense what lies behind this radical conviction by looking at what he felt for
the person who gave him the I Ching, the missionary and sinologist Richard Wilhelm.

In Memoriam
In May 1930, Jung gave the Eulogy at a memorial service in Mnich for Richard Wilhelm,
who had died in March of that year. He was profoundly moved by Wilhelm's premature
death, and he exposed his feelings in a totally uncharacteristic way. His address may give a
sense of his emotional intensity and its historical referents (CW15, 74-96, 1930).
Jung said that Wilhelm kindled a light that was one of the most significant events of his life.
He gave the West the precious heritage of a culture thousands of years old, perhaps now

destined to die forever. With no trace of Christian resentment or European arrogance,

Wilhelm was like a receptive and fruitful womb, giving us the living spirit of Chinese
civilization and making us one with those who know the way (tao). He inoculated us with the
living germ of the Chinese spirit and we found ourselves partaking of the spirit of the East as
we experience the living power of the I Ching. It is capable of working a profound
transformation of our thought.
This is because the I Ching is responding to something in us that is in need of further
development, Jung said. For our souls are weary of scientific specialization, rationalism and
intellectualism. Wilhelm gave us a new light, and we must translate this meaning, as Wilhelm
translated tao, into life. Realizing tao is our task.
As European science, technology and greed overwhelm China, our unconscious is swarming
with eastern symbolism. The spirit of the East is really at our gates

and this search for

meaning (tao) has become a collective phenomenon. Wilhelm brought the spiritual root of
ancient China and planted it in the soil of Europe.
Today, Jung stated, we have a Gnostic movement that is the exact counterpart of the Gnostic
movement that spread throughout the ancient world nineteen hundred years ago when solitary
wanderers spun the spiritual threads from Europe to Asia. He saw Wilhelm as one of those
great Gnostic intermediaries who brought the Hellenic spirit into contact with the cultural
heritage of the East and thereby caused a new world to rise out of the ruins.8 This gnosis, this
experience of the living spirit of the East is embodied in the I Ching.
Jung said that Wilhelm's work with the I Ching was of such immense importance to him
personally because it confirmed what he had been seeking in his efforts to alleviate the psychic
suffering of Europeans. I heard from him in clear language the things I had dimly divined in
the confusion of the European subconscious. I received more from him than from any other
man.

The Ominous World of the Unus Mundus

Marie-Louise von Franz once remarked that Jungs attitude towards the unconscious was the
attitude of the archaic religions that valued and followed omens, dreams and divinations as
signs from the spirit and the spirits. 9 He was, in essence, re-creating those old religious rituals
that were based on a world of omens and symbols. Among other things, Jung called this living
world the unus mundus. The omens and symbols it produced were the ground of what he
called direct religious experience. The deep need for this experience and the challenge it posed
were key qualities of what he saw as the kairos of our times.
As the matrix of religious experience, the unus mundus, archetypal or psychoid unconscious
creates symbolic fields that unite both images and events. Leading the events of our lives back
to these fields, which a traditional society called spirits or gods, was a profoundly religious act,
one that a thinker like Corbin called epistrophe or tawil. It was the heart of those archaic
religions. In what he called the Self, Jung felt he had found a unifier, a field that ordered the
fields and created an awareness akin to what the Greeks called daimon, the Yoruba called your
head or patron spirit and the Chinese called both fate (ming) and spirit (shen). Let us not be
misled here by the polemics of polytheism and monotheism or the supposed hidden agendas
of Jungs word wholeness. Self and whole dont simply refer to senex megalomania or
greedy monotheism. They point at the inclusion of a dimension of spirit, a connection to the
imaginal world in and through the observation of the ominous events of each day. Wholeness
lies in the connection of spirit and soul or inner and outer. For Jung, it was the source and goal
of our psychic lives, a dynamic ground out of which a vast symbolism is generated. His deep
respect for Taoist and Buddhist thought was grounded in their call for this direct religious
experience. In this sense, the ritual associated with the Classic of Change is a great engine for
opening and understanding the dialogue with the unus mundus, the Tao or Way. It points at
the experience of meaning.

The efficacy of such an omen or symbol begins in its compensatory action, another much
maligned word. It is this action that, in Jungs thought, connects it with the Self. In divinatory
terms, compensation means that a ritually produced symbol will first correct, complete or
reinforce a conscious desire through inclusion of un-known or repressed psychic contents. It
includes shadow. Reading the omen or symbol thus depends on both being aware of what you
are feeling and desiring and on letting the symbol deconstruct your ego desires. This, in the
language of the I Ching, is turning and rolling the words in your heart, letting them act on
you. It opens an encounter with the unconscious, the unus mundus or, in Taoist terms, with
the paradise state of the Way. It is a response to the challenge of direct religious experience,
attending to the waking dreams, that flow from the world of spirit. For Jung, the I Ching
could draw out the meanings that connect us with the imaginal world, creating a new
awareness and a new experience. It is a realization of fate is that takes the whole of the world as
its stage.

Three Words on the Way

The drama that Jung saw in the realization of the Self, and the place divination can play in
that drama, might be seen in three Chinese terms10 used throughout the commentary section
of the I Ching called the Great Treatise or Ta chuan.
The first of these terms, kuei shen or ghosts and spirits, represents the kinds of experience
connected with the various nature of soul, the non-human beings or autonomous complexes
we encounter on the Way. Their interaction gives us an idea how the psychology of divination
works.
Kuei and shen are complementary opposites, like yin and yang. Shen is a bright spirit, very
mobile and potent. In the oldest thought, it existed completely outside the individual. Sages
and mediums (wu) went through elaborate rituals to induce shen to take up residence in their
bodies, for through such in-dwelling they would acquire a helping-spirit, a daimon. The shen

confer intensity, clarity and depth on the soul. They make the oracle work and are conjured by
its numbers and its symbols.
Kuei are quite different. If shen make the oracle work, kuei are the problems it confronts. They
are dark, earth-bound spirits that can become malevolent ghosts through anger, insult or
injury. They represent compulsive negative emotion and pain that can easily paralyze a person
or a situation. Buddhists call this deep negativity, anger and desire addictive or afflictive
emotion. Once constellated, we must come to grips with the kuei through propitiation or
exorcism or spiritual and bodily death can result.
The oracles job is to move the kuei, to transform the fixed emotion so that the process of
living can go on. The act of consultation focuses the bright spirit of the shen directly into the
problem, the heart of the dark, bound kuei. It offers the knot of pain and suffering a chance to
be seen, to be mirrored in the symbolic order. It transforms the experience of a past life or
lives. As this past comes to light, we are released from its compulsive emotion.
Hsiang, the second term, is the tool used by shen to move the kuei. Ritually produced in
response to a given situation, these symbols have the power to connect the worlds. The
symbols of the I Ching are hsiang and came into being through a kind of imaginative
induction called hsiang, for this term is also a verb. We use the oracle to hsiang something, to
create symbolic awareness. It is a creative process, a magic spell, a form, a figure, a likeness, a
pattern or model. We make the connection between the invisible world of the spirit and the
visible world of our lives by acting these symbols out: creating images, imitating, acting,
playing, writing, living the symbolic life.
The third term is ming, both Fate and Mandate. Awareness of ming, called shen ming, bright
spirit or the light of the gods, emerges from the transformation of the kuei. As fate, ming
shows us an individual destiny, marked off by the great limits of birth and death, given texture
by character and articulated by significant meetings and events. This fate is not implacable, by

it is very hard to see, buried as it is in the body and the unconscious. As mandate, the term
ming shows something else: a clear command from on high, from Tien or heaven that gives us
the authority to speak with the voice of the gods. Tien Ming or Heavens Mandate was a very
important phrase politically, but it is not just the power given to a ruler. It is an in-dwelling
part of each person, the Heaven, Self or Daimon that creates the events of our lives.
The process of divination and the awareness it creates lets you understand what heaven wants
of you. It can transform your fate into a mandate from heaven, letting you acquire the
imaginative power and virtue (te) to be who you are meant to be and live in the flow of the
Way.

The Classic of Change

Jung, who felt that his psychology was bound up with the whole practical use of the I Ching,
saw the book as a vehicle or engine of tao, synchronicity and individuation. It was both a
carrier of human experience and a door to the energy of the archetypes. He offered it as a
double of his psychological process and the book's use became a part of the praxis of the whole
first generation of analysts. 11 Among all his metaphors for psychology - Alchemy, the Mystery
Cults, Gnosticism, and Occultism - this was the most enduring. His sense of its cultural and
psychological importance never varied.
I Ching literally means the Classic or Canon of Yi.

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It was traditional China's most important

imaginative and spiritual structure. It probably began as a divinatory language used by the wu,
female and male mediums who could go into trance and speak with the voices of shen or
spirits. It was first written down and organized about 1100 BCE, going through several
editions and revisions over the next 500 years. The name I Ching is late. It comes from the
Han Dynasty (200 BCE - 220 CE), when a group of imperially sponsored scholars codified
the book. They assembled and edited the old texts and added new ones collected from oral
traditions, calling them the Ten Wings. Before the transformation that made it a classic, the

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book was called Chou I, The Yi-book of the Kings of Chou. Today, the entire tradition is
often simply called Yi or Change.
The character of the book is reflected in its name. Yi is usually translated as change, but that
can be a bit misleading. The term really has two faces. Though it includes regular change, like
the change of the seasons, and transformations or quantum jumps such as the change of a
caterpillar into a butterfly, water into ice or a live person into a dead person, yi really points at
something more mysterious. I translate this sense of its meaning as trouble, sudden
destabilizing change like a storm that threatens to devastate the fields or the sudden realization
that someone has stolen all your cattle. It means that the unconscious has intervened to break
down conscious order.
Another set of meanings for yi shows us how to deal with trouble: versatility, imaginative
mobility and the ability to change quickly, a fluid identity that can take up a series of guises or
masks. The quality yi forces you to change your conscious identity. By doing so, it seeks to reconnect you with the river of meaning called tao or way. This pattern of disruption, change
and reconnection is the heart of the Classic of Change.

Making the Book

The Change is constructed around two kinds of lines that are said to reflect the actions of the
two primal powers in Chinese thought, often called yin and yang. The 64 gua, the diagrams
or hexagrams of Change consist of all the possible combinations of six of these opened (yin)
and whole (yang) lines. A series of oracular texts is attached to each of the 64 gua. The
ensemble of lines and texts is usually called a Figure or Symbol (hsiang). There are texts
associated with the Figure as a whole, texts associated with each of the six lines and various
techniques of consultation, ways to obtain a Figure as answer to a question that are based on
what we call chance or random selection.

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The old diviners found that the combination of emotion or affect in the psyche and the
random production of a symbol is a kind of synchronicity that doubles the way we are
imagining reality.

13

In traditional language, it lets us talk to the spirits. It provides symbols

(hsiang), images empowered through a certain kind of projection with the numinous ability to
link the visible and the invisible. Through matching these symbols to the situation (dang),

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an inquirer is said to become aware of the hidden source of events and glimpse the way fate is
moving.
Contrary to our usual positivistic way of thinking, this dialogue with fate is not a matter of
belief. Users of Change do not believe in the spirits, they entertain them. They let them into
the heart-mind where they can work their magic. The images re-arrange awareness so
something new can spontaneously arise. For when we entertain spirits in this way, we acquire
their numinous perception.
Though divination with Change is said to provide symbols, more precisely it provides a certain
symbol to a certain person at a certain time. This creates a moment (shih), a kairos or dragon
hole in linear time that unites the inquirer, the question and the spirit that answers the
question. This articulation occurs only if something outside the ego selects the symbol. Chance
lets the spirits or shen decide which symbol they wish to use. It gives the spirits a voice in your
life.

Reading the Answers

Ta Chuan, the Great Treatise on divination and spirituality that accompanies the I Ching
suggest how the symbols in Change can be read:
2.7 Open Your Heart to Change
Change is a book you cannot push away.
Its way is always shifting.
Transforming and moving, never resting,
it flows through the six empty places.
12

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Rising and falling, never fixed,

strong and supple transform each other.
Rules cannot confine this, for it follows only Change.
It enters and leaves in a rhythm.
It teaches caution coming in and going out.
It shows clearly the causes of anxiety and calamity.
It does not act like your master or guard.
It is as if your beloved parents draw near.
First follow the words and feel their meanings in your heart.
Then suddenly the way to act arises.
If you are unwilling to do this, the way will not open to you.
This Teaching describes an unceasing flow moving through the six empty places of the gua.
Nothing is fixed. Each encounter is unique. What happens cannot be circumscribed by rules
or analysis, for, symbolically, it is life itself in its dance of entrances and exits. It allows the
inquirer to look into the seeds in order to see what the results of an action or desire might be.
There is a particular attitude and a particular process described that facilitates this. The
inquirer must not think of the book as a master or guard, but feel as if her or his parents, very
numinous figures for traditional Chinese, draw near to help and sustain them.
The key is allowing the words to move your heart (hsin or heart-mind). It is impossible to
figure out what the words of Change mean. The book cannot be distanced through systems of
analysis. The inquirer must let the words enter the heart-mind and shape it from within.
Then, and only then, the way to act will spontaneously arise. Without this opening, the way
(tao) will not open to the inquirer.
Reading Change in this way was not thought of as contradicting the rational; rather it
compensates for the inadequacy of the rational. Westerner diviners called this compensation a
lumen naturae, a light of nature given to humans as a gift. The key to the process is divination.
The mediating power is words. Whenever a problem arises, the inquirer must pose the
question to Change in words and turn and roll the words of the answer in the heart-mind. A
hidden symbol governing the situation spontaneously arises, like a spirit that has been evoked.

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If the inquirer wishes to move or act, she or he will focus particularly on the words of the
transforming or calling lines (yao). As they are turned and rolled in the heart-mind, an image
of the best way to act will spontaneously appear.
I suggest that this describes the process that Jung saw as the goal of psychology in the stricter
sense. It gives voice to unconscious contents through symbolic activity and acts in the
imagination to change the way the ego is constructing reality. By practicing this sort of
divination, aspirants were said to set foot on the way, becoming what fate meant them to be.
In the words of Change, as one embarks on this process "Heaven will come to your aid and
the way will open before you."

Projection: Empowering the Oracle

In his Foreword to the Wilhelm/Baynes I Ching, Jung openly consulted the oracle about what
he was doing in writing about it, much to the horror of his translator, Cary Baynes. This
reading, in which the I Ching gave him a very coherent and insightful answer, was the
centerpiece of his introduction. At the end of the piece, he remarked:
Any person of clever and versatile mind can of course turn the whole thing around and
show how I have projected my subjective contents into the symbols of the hexagrams.
Such a critique, though catastrophic from the standpoint of Western rationality, does
no harm to the function of the I Ching. On the contrary, the Chinese Sage would
smilingly tell me, "Don't you see how useful the I Ching is in making you project your
hitherto unrealized thoughts into its abstruse symbolism? You could have written your
foreword without ever realizing what an avalanche of misunderstanding might be
released by it."
(CW11, 1016, 1950)
Far from being a catastrophe, what Jung called projection or transference (projection within a
therapeutic situation) freely entered into seems to play a key part in the relation between
oracle and inquirer. Jung defined projection as the transfer of a subjective process onto an
object that is based on an archaic identity of that subject and object. It can be passive, that is
unconscious or active - a feeling-into that brings the object into an intimate relation with the

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subject. The object is animated by the transference and related to the subjective sphere (CW6,
742-3, 1921).
In the case of the oracle, this projective bridge seems to be the archetypal process called the
Old Wise Person, what Jung occasionally referred to as the mana personality, a form of the
Self that somehow embodies our destiny. We connect with the oracle through projecting this
figure, consciously or unconsciously. It creates a numinous aura around the answers and sets
up a field in which synchronous events are likely to occur (CW8, 394/841/912, 1952).
This field, which is particularly characteristic of the Old Wise Person or puer-senex, offers a
reasonable analogy to what the I Ching calls the Sage Mind. It is a form of the Self, and the
Self invariably expresses a situation in which the ego is contained, a circumambient
atmosphere in which synchronistic phenomena occur (CW9ii, 257, 1951). It is a source of
synchronicity, possessing qualities of a parapsychological nature. It relativizes space and time
and behaves as though it were not localized in one person (CW10, 849-50, 1958). I would
suggest that the synchronistic meaning or tao created in a dialogue with the oracle comes from
the emotional field around this projected archetype (CW18, 1190, 1958).
If this projection establishes a connection and a synchronistic field, the immediate charge to
the oracle comes from a specific affect that the inquirer experiences as a problem, difficulty or
dilemma. According to Jung, this situation occurs because consciousness has become fixed.
The unconscious contents that have been split off constellate as an affect. As the unconscious
image emerges into consciousness, the inquirer finds her/himself in an objective situation that
somehow coincides with it. The divination searches for the meaning of the situation, the
connection between outer situation and inner affect (CW8, 863/912, 1952).
The affect is focused by diviner and inquirer and transferred to the oracle through a question.
This transference activates the oracle, which returns the affect as a symbol, an archetypal
counter-transference that has the ability to change the inquirer's conscious attitude. It can

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oppose, modify or re-enforce the conscious desire articulated in the question, thus giving the
unconscious a voice. It therapeutically mirrors the inquirers situation and identity. Such an
interaction reflects our lifelong human need to be seen, to have our identity validated on a
spiritual level. It is connected with the ego-Self axis and gives the Self a voice in the events of
everyday life.
This archetypal or synchronous mirroring works itself out in a matching (dang) that fits
symbol and situation together, arranging collateral and coincidental facts which represent
suitable expressions of the underlying archetype. This parallels the makeup of the psychic
arrangement in general, which is based on synchronicity. It is an intuitive, not a rational
phenomenon (CW18, 128, 1935).

Journey to the West

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The I Ching or Book of Changes, the Richard Wilhelm Translation rendered into English by
Cary F. Baynes, first published in 1950, really introduced Change to the West. Though there
were previous translations, from the partial Latin translations of 17th century Jesuits to Legge's
version in Sacred Books of the East, Wilhelm was the first to make what Arthur Waley called a
scriptural translation. He treated the book not as an historical text or an incoherent collection
of magic spells, but as a living spiritual document. This was Jung's I Ching and its tao or way
became an important part of the Jungian practice of the time. Yet Cary Baynes was able to buy
the English rights to Wilhelm's German text for only $100 and when her translation was
finished, 25 years after the book's appearance, only about 3000 of its original press run of
5000 had been sold.
The English translation was another matter. First published in 1950, by 1965, fifteen years
after its publication, sales were over a half million. It became an enduring part of the American
counter-culture. It remains the biggest seller on Princeton's list, inspiring CD-ROMs and
other programs, and has been translated into 40 other languages. It was Change's window on

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the west. An important part of it, giving readers a way to think about the experience of using
Change, was the Foreword by Jung. It is arguably Jung's most famous work.
There are two readings at the center of Jung's Foreword, readings through which he ostensibly
asked about the future of the book in the west. The way Jung matched the symbols to the
situation has proved, in some ways, to be quite accurate. But there was a dimension that Jung
left out or, perhaps, deliberately obscured. By looking at another dimension of the way in
which these famous answers were read, we can perhaps see more clearly into Change's Journey
to the West.
Jung says that he made an experiment strictly in accordance with the Chinese conception: I
personified the book in a sense, asking its judgment about its present situation, i.e., my
intention to present it to the English-speaking public" (CW11, 975, 1950, my emphasis). He
had discussed his theory of synchronicity, the peculiar interdependence of objective events
among themselves as well as with subjective (psychic) states of the observer as a key to
understanding the I Ching. He said, however, that this argument never entered a Chinese
mind. According to the old tradition, it is spiritual agencies, acting in a mysterious way, that
make the yarrow stalks give a meaningful answer. These powers form, as it were, the living
soul of the book. As the latter is thus a sort of animated being, the tradition assumes that one
can put questions to the I Ching and expect to receive intelligent answers (CW11, 972-75,
1949).
Jung proceeds to animate the book through his projection, pose his question using the coin
method to generate the Figures and match the answers to his situation. He remarks that
although this procedure is well within the premises of Taoist philosophy, it appears
exceedingly odd to us. However, it allows the reader to watch a psychological procedure that
has been carried out time and time again throughout the millennia of Chinese civilization, a
supreme expression of spiritual authority and a philosophical enigma (CW11, 976, 1949).

17

As answer to his question about his intention to present the I Ching to the English-speaking
public, Jung received 50 Vessel as the Primary Figure, with Transforming Lines in the Second
and Third places that generate 35 Prospering as the Relating Figure. The Primary Figure
describes the present situation, while the Transforming Lines focus on potentials for change.
The Relating Figure suggests how the inquirer is related to the situation. It can describe a goal,
a feeling tone, an experience, a desire or a possible outcome. 17
In his interpretation, Jung maintained that the I Ching was the speaking person. The I Ching
is here testifying concerning itself, he said, describing itself as a Ting or Vessel holding
spiritual nourishment. He quoted Wilhelm on the Ting:
The Ting, as a utensil pertaining to a refined civilization, suggests the fostering and
nourishing of able men, which redounded to the benefit of the state. Here we see
civilization as it reaches its culmination in religion. The ting serves in offering sacrifice
to God. The supreme revelation of God appears in prophets and holy men. To
venerate them is true veneration of God. The will of God as revealed through them
should be accepted in humility.
(CW11, 977-78, 1949)
This may be, but Jung leaves out something important here, something that he would
certainly be aware of as a highly intuitive psychologist who had worked with Change for over
25 years. He invited the I Ching to comment on my intention, and it is that intention that
carries the affect in the situation. The book may well be the Ting, but here Jung is invited to
put his intention into the Vessel to be cooked. The imperative would be: "Contain it! Look
into it! Transform it!" So we have two stories being constructed, matching the symbols to two
different situations. The overt or outer story deals with the I Ching's future in the Western
book market. This involves the book itself, its future in the west and Jung's presentation of it
to the English-speaking public. The covert or inner story, however, deals with the nature of
Jung's "intention."
The answer to the question Jung posed created two Transforming Lines. When any of the
lines of a given hexagram have the value of six or nine, it means that they are specially
18

emphasized and hence important in the interpretation. In my hexagram the spiritual agencies
have given the emphasis of a nine to the lines in the second and third place (CW11, 979,
1949). Let us look at the first of these Transforming Lines:
Nine at Second
There is something real in the Vessel.
My companion is afflicted but cannot approach me.
The way is open.
Again Jung maintained that this was the I Ching speaking of itself: 'I contain (spiritual)
nourishment, it said. Since a share in something great always arouses envy, the chorus of the
envious is part of the picture. The envious want to rob the I Ching of its great possession, that
is, they seek to rob it of meaning, or destroy its meaning. But their enmity is in vain. Its
richness of meaning is assured; that is, it is convinced of its positive achievements, which no
one can take away (CW11, 980, 1949).
This outer story is very interesting and, considering the lengths to which western philosophers,
academics and clinical psychologists have gone to suppress this sort of meaning, it has a
definite ring of truth about it. But the pronoun reference of I, me, my (wo), a word quite rare
in the book's texts, is not just the Vessel. This term puts a very strong emphasis on the
subjective experience of the inquirer. The outer story says nothing about Jung's intention,
though the image itself is very much concerned with a subjective sense of its emotional
politics.
This concern revolves the word companion (ch'iu), mistranslated, in my opinion, as the plural
comrades. There is a deep ambivalence in the word and the experience it represents, for it
embodies a profound contradiction. It indicates someone or something that is closely tied to
you through bonds of real affection on the one hand and, on the other, is a rival or enemy.
Here the companion is afflicted (chi), not just sick, but full of anger, resentment and the
desire to do harm. The obvious question in the process of matching symbol and situation is:
What person, idea or imago in Jung's intention, in his psychological and imaginative
19

experience of the oracle, could be this close and this ambivalent? Assuming this is the oracle's
image of Jung's inner attitude, there is only one possible answer: Richard Wilhelm and his
translation.
If we remember the deep feeling about Wilhelm and his work Jung showed in his Eulogy, we
can see that this match of symbol and situation is devastating. And being the psychologist he
was I am sure Jung would have been aware of it. But to understand this more than personal
opposition, we must understand a bit more of the history of Change. For the split is also a part
of the Vessel itself.
Wilhelm's translation was a landmark. It was readable and usable. It took the book seriously as
a spiritual document and psychological tool. Wilhelm gave his life to this work, which he saw
as crucially important, and it seemed to accord well with Jung's psychology. There was a deep
bond between the two men. However, for all his dedication and sincerity, we know now that
Wilhelm did not translate the I Ching as such. He translated a very particular version of it
taught him by his teacher Lai Niu Hsan, a Neo-Confucian scholar and official. Wilhelm gave
us the Confucian I Ching, complete with its hierarchical vision of morality, spirituality and
social philosophy. The Confucian I Ching is one, albeit highly opinionated, version of Change.
But it is not the version Jung seems to be talking about when he speculates on the tao of the
book or pays homage to its depth and understanding. Jung, in line with his lifelong
preoccupation, seems to be talking about a Taoist Book of Change, while Wilhelm translated a
Confucian one.

Confucians and Taoists

Confucianism and Taoism

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were the two poles of traditional Chinese culture, with Buddhist

thought, which came later, usually tending toward the Taoist end of the spectrum. The
fundamental texts of both schools originated in the Warring States period (400-226 BCE),
which was a time of widespread social breakdown and great creativity. Confucianism, an

20

intensely conservative, moralistic and hierarchical teaching, emerged first. It went on to

become the official philosophy of Imperial China. It defined a political and cultural elite who
identified the way or tao with the internalization of a particular set of social relations. Taoism,
the second child, mocked social values and established power alike. An intensely individualist
and radical teaching, it developed methods of dis-identifying with social institutions and
commonly held motivations. Its central value was wu wei, not-doing, a practice whereby the
ego is emptied of conventional values so that the tao may fill the soul. Taoists valued freedom,
imagination and unconventionality, laughing most heartily at the Confucian concern for
dignity and presence. For them tao was the great mystery at the heart of all. Here is a famous
text from the Lao t'zu or Tao te ching that was a direct reply to Confucian moralizing:
It is when the tao is lost that your so-called virtue arises.
It is when when virtue is lost that your so-called benevolence arises.
It is when benevolence is lost that your so-called righteousness arises.
It is when righteousness is lost that your so-called doctrine of propriety arises.
Now this propriety of yours is the empty husk of loyalty and faithfulness.
It is the beginning of all confusion and doubt.
This sort of dialogue was a battle fought for the meaning of all the culture's key texts and
terms. For Taoists realized that when you reify a moral ideal, you split off its opposite, calling
it evil. It falls into the unconscious where it becomes a center of attraction, necessitating a
constant heroic effort to maintain the repression. Internalizing Confucian ideals involves you
in this endless repression of undesirable psychic contents and, even worse, of the people on
whom they are projected: women, foreigners, misfits, rebels and the disobedient.
In many ways Jung gave us the Classic of Change, opening a window through which it could
enter western culture. I suggest that this Transforming Line indicates that he also passed on
the task he failed to do: peeling away the Confucian morality overlaying the spirit of tao
within the vessel. And as we do this, the Vessel truly becomes usable and its awareness, its
lumen naturae, fully enters our world.

21

The final image in this encounter, an encounter that certainly includes those of us now who
read and use the oracle, is the Relating Figure generated when the two Transforming Lines of
50 Vessel change into their opposites. This image is 35 Prospering. It includes the meanings:
emerge into the light; advance and be noticed, receive gifts; spread prosperity, the dawn of a
new day; grow and flourish, as young plants in the sun; permeate, impregnate. The ideogram
shows birds taking flight at dawn.
If this is the I Ching prognosticating about its own future, that future seems assured. It will
slowly and surely rise from obscurity and confinement, spreading light, warmth and joy, a
spiritual friend to those it contacts. We can, however, see this as the culmination of the inner
story as well, as the real I Ching shakes off the shadows of the past and rises from the obscuring
veil of interpretation that confined it.

The Friendship of the Spirit

In the 50 years since the publication of the Wilhelm/Baynes translation, the Confucian
interpretive facade has slowly been stripped away from Change, revealing something quite
different beneath. This view, most clearly seen through a re-reading of Ta chuan, the Great
Treatise on divination and spirituality that accompanies the Classic of Change, opens a potent,
mysterious yet knowable world, a world and a way that Jung perceived. It gives us access to a
bright spirit (shen ming) that protects while it encourages its users to act out of the best parts of
their nature. It is a personal way to the spirit, a way of transformation allied to early practices
of mediumship and spirit possession. The experience of this helping spirit can make you sage,
clear-seeing, knowing death and birth, feeling the friendship of the spirit and compassion for
fellow humans.
I suggest that a group of early Taoist practitioners originated this practice of using Change as a
process of spiritual transformation about 400 BCE, and it is this way or tao we are now
recovering. It was a radical re-invention of the oldest practices of talking with the spirits,

22

created or re-created in a very dangerous time. It responds directly to individual concerns and
offers protection, insight and self-realization. This way of the spirits is the most powerful and
perennial appeal of Change, the thing that has drawn people to it for thousands of years.
So the substance in the vessel now being uncovered might be compared to one of those early
spirit-mediums, the women and men who were wu.

19

This person can see and hear what is

occulted. She or he gives to those above (shen, the light spirits) and those below (kuei, the dark
ghosts) what is due to them. This imaginative generosity causes a luminous spirit (shen ming or
bright spirit) to descend. As this spirit takes up its home within, the wu becomes daimonic and
clear-seeing, profoundly connected to the invisible world. The inner chapters of Kuan tz'u,

20

an early Taoist text from about 400 BCE, gives us a sense of this practice:
When chi (life-energy) is on the Way,
It vitalizes.
When you are vitalized, you imagine.
When you imagine, you know.
When you know, you stop.
The hearts of all beings are shaped like this.
If your knowing seeks to go farther,
You will kill them.
There is a limit to knowing and that limit is imagination. Change puts you on the way,
vitalizes your imagining with its symbols, opens your heart and that is enough.
Look, there is a spirit (shen) within your person.
Now it goes, now it comes.
No one can imagine it
But if you reverently clean its abode
It will return of itself.
You will recover your own true nature,
Fixed in you once for all.
This is the kind of figure whose teachings went into the New Way of using Change. It is, I
would suggest, at the heart of what Jung saw in this old Book of Oracles. This way proposes
that we, too, can be like the sage-mediums of old. We can use Change to re-fashion our
23

imagination. We can invite the shen, the bright spirit, to take a place in our heart. And as we
go on with the work, day by day, suddenly the spirit arrives.

Notes
J. J. Clarke, Jung on the East, London: Routledge, 1995 collects the references
in Jung's work and provides a good bibliography. I take the use of "orientation"
as "directed toward the East" from his Jung and Eastern Thought, London:
Routledge, 1994. This orientation was a deeply felt process for Jung, a part of his
own individuation. He found a deep confirmation of his ideas in eastern thoughts
on the Tao. I will paraphrase him extensively throughout this article to give a
sense of this intimacy and intensity. I have included dates of his works to show
the consistency of his opinions throughout his life.
1

Citations from C. G. Jung, Collected Works, trans. R.F.C. Hull, London:

Routledge and Kegan Paul, 1960 and Letters, trans. R.F.C. Hull, eds. Gerhard
Adler and Aniela Jaffe, Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1970. Except for
the occasional use of the word "yi=i" to avoid the awkward I as a word standing
alone, I use Wade-Giles romanization of Chinese characters to accord with Jung
and Wilhelm's practice.
2

The Lao-t'zu, named after its mythic author, also called Tao-te ching (Way Power
Classic), was an oral tradition written down about 400 BCE. It is a founding text
of "philosophical Taoism" and has been translated many times. I recommend
Arthur Waleys translation, The Way and its Power: The Tao te ching and its Place
in Chinese Thought, London: Allen & Unwin, 1934, rpt 1977, which was used in
the Collected Works. For an interesting, if rather plodding, comparison of ideas
central to Taoism and Jungs psychology, see Belinda S. L. Khong and Norman L.
Thompson, (1997) Jung and Taoism: A Comparative Analysis of Jungs
Psychology and Taoist Philosophy, Harvest 43/2, 1997, 86-105. They conclude
that Jungs use of tao in psychology is as much a watershed as Freuds
introduction of the notion of infantile sexuality (p. 103).
3

A good modern translation of tao is "the on-going process of the real,"

introduced by Willard Peterson in "Making Connections: Commentary on the
Attached Verbalizations of the Book of Change," Harvard Journal of Asiatic
Studies, 2/2, 1992, pp. 67-112.
4

Modern examinations of synchronicity in a Jungian context include: Robert

Aziz, C. G. Jung's Psychology of Religion and Synchronicity, Albany NY: State
University of New York Press, 1990; Roderick Main, Jung on Synchronicity and
the Paranormal, London: Routledge, 1997; Victor Mansfield, Synchronicity,
5

24

Science and Soul-Making, La Salle ILL: Open Court Press, 1995; and Ira Progoff,
Jung, Synchronicity and Human Destiny, New York: Dell Books, 1973.
Letter to Olga Frbe-Kaptyn, 29 January 1934, in preparation for the second
Eranos Tagung. There is a serious mistranslation of this phrase in the English
Letters. In German, Jung differentiates in a quite acerbic fashion between zuviel
ostliches wissen, or academic sinology, and psychology, a road no one takes
until bei dem alle anderen Seitenwege versagt haben, that is, until all the other
ways have betrayed him. He then states that this psychological traveler must
confront the I Ching, for zu der psycholgie im engeren Sinne gehrt aber der ganz
praktische Gebrauch des I Ging, that is, however, part of psychology in the
stricter sense is the whole practical use [ganz praktische Gebrauch] of the I Ching
(my emphasis). See C.G. Jung Briefe, Erste Band, 1906-1945, Hersg. Aniele
Jaff und Gerhard Adler, Olten und Freiburg im Briesgau: Walter-Verlag, 1972,
pp. 182-83.
6

"Among the impersonal psychic processes there are quite a number which seem
absolutely strange and incomprehensible. They cannot be brought into
connection with any of the historical symbols known to us, but we can find
plenty of unquestionable analogies in the psychologies of the Orient. The
unconscious psyche of Europeans shows a distinct tendency to produce contents
that have their nearest analogies in old Chinese philosophy." This spirit of the
East is "making itself clearly perceptible in the European subconscious" (CW18,
1286, 1930).
7

"Modern man, in contrast to his nineteenth century brother, turns to the

psyche with very great expectations, with a view to Gnostic experience. He is
actually pursuing knowledge, instead of faith, which is the essence of the
Western forms of religion. Modern man abhors faith and the religions based on it.
He holds them valid only so far as their knowledge-content seems to accord with
his own experience of the psychic background. He wants to know - to experience
for himself " (CW10, 171).

Marie-Louise von Franz, Jung: His Myth in Our Time, London: Hodden and
Stroughton, 1975, p.13, cited in Aziz, p. 220. For the following discussion, see
Aziz, ppgs. 9-11, 20-23, 165-167, 221ff and Stephen Karcher, Illustrated
Encyclopedia of Divination, Shaftesbury: Element Books, 1997, chapters
Introduction, Learning to Listen and Opening the Book of Fate.
9

See Stephen Karcher, Divination, Synchronicity and Fate, in Journal of

Religion and Health, 37/3, Fall 1988, pp. 215-228.
10

See, for example, Gerhard Adler, Aspects of Jungs Personality and Work,
Harvest 21, p. 7: I have long considered the I Ching the most expressive symbol
for the profoundest content of analytical psychology whenever one consults
the oracle one commits, knowingly or unknowingly, a metaphysical act of the
greatest significance.

11

25

The I Ching is now available in many translations. Unfortunately, many are

simplistic rehashings of old material made without recourse to the Chinese texts.
Richard Wilhelm and Cary F. Baynes, The I Ching or Book of Changes, Princeton:
Princeton University Press, 1967, the "classic" English translation, now badly
outdated; Richard John Lynn, The Classic of Change: The I Ching as interpreted
by Wang Bi, New York: Columbia University Press, 1994, is a translation of the
first Confucian revision of Change. For those who can read between the lines it is
quite frightening; Wu Jing-Nuan, Yijing, Washington, D.C.: Taoist Study Series,
1991, is an interesting and usable Taoist version of the oldest parts of the text;
Edward Shaugnessy, I Ching: the Classic of Changes: The First English
Translation of the Newly Discovered Second-Century B. C. Mawangdui Texts,
New York: Ballantine, 1996, is an scholarly but unusable triumph of "ruthless
literal-mindedness," to use Richard Kunst's phrase.
I am using Stephen
Karcher, How to Use the I Ching, Shaftesbury: Element, 1997 and (with Rudolf
Ritsema), The Classic Chinese Oracle of Change, Shaftesbury: Element,1995, for
text and background. Since this article was written, I have made a significant
new version, Total I Ching: Myths for Change, London: Time Warner, 2003, which
reunites the oldest layers of the tradition with the received text.
12

See Karcher, The Illustrated Encyclopedia of Divination; Michael Loewe and

Carmen Blacker, Divination and Oracles, Boulder CO: Shambala, 1981; Phillip
Peek, ed., African Divination Systems: Ways of Knowing, Bloomington IND:
Indiana University Press, 1991; Marie-Louise von Franz, Divination and
Synchronicity: The Psychology of Meaningful Chance, Toronto: Inner City, 1980;
Jean-Paul Vernant, ed., Divination et rationalit, Paris: Editions du Seuil, 1974;
and the entry "Divination" in the Encyclopedia of Religion, ed. Mircea Eliade.
13

On dang or matching, see Smith, Kidder Smith, "Zhouyi Interpretation from

accounts in the Zuozhuan." Harvard Journal of Asiatic Studies 49/2, 1998.
14

Translations, commentary and background from Stephen Karcher, Ta chuan:

the Great Treatise, St. Martins Press, forthcoming. Ta chuan began about 400
BCE as a set of Taoist oral teachings on the use of Change. Written down about
175 BCE, it was the central part of the Ten Wings, the commentary that was
added to Change in the Han Dynasty. Ta chuan was the most important
cosmological and spiritual document in post-Han China. Through its reimagining of the ancient practices of the wu or mediums, it turned Change into a
way of spiritual transformation.
15

The Journey to the West is an important event in Chinese religious history,

when monks traveled from China to India to bring back the scriptures of
Buddhism about 650 CE. It is the theme of a famous 17th century novel by Wu
Cheng-en, an extravaganza of myth and magic that results in the transformation
of all who took part in it. See Arthur Waley, Monkey, Harmondsworth: Penguin,
1961 and A. C. Yu, Journey to the West, 4 vol, Chicago: University of Chicago
Press, 1977, for translations.
16

26

This process of interpretation, which I have worked on for many years, is

described in detail in Total I Ching, in the section titled Tools for Change.
17

The dialogue and hermeneutic conflict between Taoist and Confucian for
control of the traditions major texts is an important and hidden part of the
history of the Classic of Change. This is described in detail in my commentary in
Ta Chuan: The Great Treatise. See also The Two Traditions: The Shaman and the
Sage, forthcoming.
18

On thought and culture in traditional China, see Sarah Allen, The Way of
Water and the Sprouts of Virtue, Albany: SUNY Press, 1997, and The Shape of the
Turtle: Myth, Art and Cosmos in Early China, Albany: SUNY Press, 1991; Marcel
Granet, La pense chinoise, Paris: Albin Michel, 1934; Festivals and Songs of
Early China (trans E .D. Edwards), London: Routledge and Sons, 1932; and
Danses et legends de la Chine ancienne, Paris: Presses Universitaires de France,
1959 (rpt) a true hidden masterpiece; Henri Maspero, China in Antiquity (trans
Frank Kierman), University of Massachusetts Press, 1978; J. Paper, The Spirits
are Drunk: Comparative Approaches to Chinese Religion, Albany: SUNY Press,
1995 (both strange and truly brilliant); Benjamin Schwartz, The World of Thought
in Ancient China, Cambridge MA: Harvard University Press, 1985; and J. J. M.
De Groots vast compendium of traditional belief and practice, The Religious
Systems of China (6 vol), Taipei, 1892-1910, rpt 1974. Paper has the best
examination of the Wu as spirit mediums available today. On contemporary
mediums and possession cults, see Roger Bastide, The African Religions of Brazil,
Baltimore: University of Maryland Press, 1978; J. A. Eliot, Chinese Spirit Medium
Cults in Singapore, London, 1995; Jane Belo, Trance in Bali, New York, 1960;
Erica Bourguignon (ed), Religion, Altered States of Consciousness and Social
Change, Columbus OH: University of Ohio Press, 1973 and Trance Dance, New
York, 1968; M. L. Lewis, Ecstatic Religion: An Anthropological Study of Spirit
Possession and Shamanism, Harmondsworth: Penguin, 1971; and Sheila Walker,
Ceremonial Spirit Possession in Africa and Afro-America, Leiden: Brill, 1972.
19

The inner or psychic chapters of the Kuan-tzu are discussed and partially
translated in Whalen Lai, The Interiorization of the Gods: The Psychic Chapters
the Kuan-tzu, Revisited, Taoist Resources, vol I, no 1, 1-10. See also Stephen
Karcher, Oracles contexts: Dreams, Shadow, Language, Spring 53; Which Way
I Fly is Hell: Divination and the Shadow of the West, Spring 55; Making Spirits
Bright: Divination and the Demonic Image, Eranos 61/1992 and Divination,
Synchronicity and Fate, Journal of Religion and Health, 37/3, Fall, 1998.
20

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