The name 名
Cuì 萃 carries the grass radical and first described plants growing thickly together; from there it came to mean gathering, as in a concentration of talent. The Xugua says simply that Cuì means to assemble: once people and things have met, they come together.
The image 象
The Lake above, Earth below: water collecting into a lake upon the land. Water gathers where the ground is low, people where there is a center. Kūn below is compliant, Duì above is glad, and the strong fifth line, central, is answered by the second, so people follow willingly and come together. Kūn is also the ox, hence the judgment's great sacrificial animal.
Layers of images 層
A gua can be read on several levels at once: the trigrams as members of a family (father, mother, eldest to youngest sons and daughters), the six lines as ranks in an organisation (from newcomer to ruler), and as forces of nature and animals. Each extra level adds meaning to the line texts.
Read as a family
Below is Kūn, the mother; above is Duì, the youngest daughter. The mother stands for the people and the land, gathering below in willing support; the youngest daughter above brings joy and speech (Duì is mouth and delight). A crowd holds together partly through compliance below and partly through someone above who makes people glad. Line 5 is central and answers Line 2, with Line 4 beside it: a gathering needs a centre and also capable people near it.
The judgment, “offering a great sacrifice is auspicious”: the lower Kūn is the ox, the great sacrificial animal. When people gather, a solemn rite ties their hearts to shared ancestors and to heaven and earth. Groups today are no different: they need a ritual or goal everyone recognises.
Line 1, “if it cries out, a single handclasp turns it to laughter”: if Line 1 follows Line 4, lines 3–5 form a nuclear Xùn, wind, whose howling sounds like wailing; if it follows Line 5, the upper Duì is delight, and that is laughter. Between them, lines 2–4 form a nuclear Gèn, the hand: one handshake turns tears to smiles. The hesitation of people who have just come together can be undone by a single clasp of hands.
Line 5, “in the gathering he has the position; no blame; but trust is not yet there”: the ruler holds the seat, but the people are not fully won over. Line 4 stands between him and the Kūn below, and lies in the nuclear Gèn of lines 2–4, stopping, which separates ruler from people. When a close minister is too popular, the ruler must keep up his virtue longer before real trust forms.
Top line, “sighing and lamenting, tears and snivel; no blame”: the top line is at the crest of Duì, mouth and marsh: sighs out loud and tears flowing. Everyone has gathered at the centre and it is left on the outside. Being willing to weep over it, feeling the fear, is what keeps it from blame.
Inverted, Cuì becomes Shēng. The Xu Gua says that what gathers and rises is called Shēng: hearts gather first, then climb together. Cuì is about bringing people together; Shēng is about how the gathered group advances step by step. Gathering without rising lets the meeting disperse; rising without gathering does not get far.
In sequence 序
物相遇而后聚，故受之以萃；萃者聚也。
The Xugua: things meet and only then assemble, so Cuì follows Gòu, Encounter; Cuì means to assemble. Meeting comes first, gathering after. Cuì is also the inverse of the next hexagram, Shēng: once gathered, people begin to rise.
The judgment 辭
萃：王假有廟，利見大人，亨。利貞。用大牲吉，利有攸往。
The king comes to his ancestral temple; it is favorable to see the great person; success; it is favorable to be steadfast. Offering a great animal brings good fortune; it is favorable to go forward. When people gather, each begins to pursue his own interest. If at that moment there is a rite in the ancestral temple, everyone remembers a shared origin; hearts settle, and people think of virtue and not only of gain. Only Cuì and Huàn, Dispersal, contain the king going to the temple: whether a people is coming together or coming apart, it needs a reverence that rises above interest. The great person is the fifth line; a gathering must find its rightful center.
Commentary on the judgment 彖
彖曰：萃，聚也；順以說，剛中而應，故聚也。王假有廟，致孝享也。利見大人亨，聚以正也。用大牲吉，利有攸往，順天命也。觀其所聚，而天地萬物之情可見矣。
The Tuan explains why gathering happens: compliance below and gladness above, and the firm central fifth line answered by the second. The king at the temple expresses filial offering; seeing the great person brings success because the gathering is upright; the great sacrifice is fortunate because it follows the mandate of Heaven. One might sum it up as gathering the spirits of the ancestors above and the hearts of the people below. Its last line says that in what things gather around, the true condition of heaven, earth and all beings can be seen: look at what a group gathers for, and you see what it really is.
The great image 象
象曰：澤上于地，萃；君子以除戎器，戒不虞。
“The lake above the earth: Cuì. The noble person repairs weapons and guards against the unforeseen.” A lake raised above the ground is hard to contain once it breaks, and crowds are where accidents happen. The great affairs of a state are sacrifice and arms: the judgment speaks of the first, the image of the second. In times of gathering, the noble person still keeps his tools in order and stays ready for the unexpected.
The six lines 爻
Ruling line The fifth line, central and correct, is the center everyone gathers to; the Tuan's firm and central, answered and following Heaven's mandate all refer to it. A gathering needs a king. By hexagram change, it is the third line of Xiǎoguò 小過 risen to the fifth place.
The path of the six lines, bottom to top
Line 1 wants to join but wavers, crying out until a handclasp turns tears into laughter. Line 2 is drawn in by Line 5, and its sincerity makes even a simple offering acceptable. Line 3, at the top of the lower trigram, finds no partner and sighs; moving upward offers a small way out. Line 4, entering the upper trigram, is a popular close minister in an improper place, blameless only if its work is outstanding. Line 5 holds the seat but not yet full trust, and must keep its virtue long. The top line is left outside the gathering, sighing and weeping, yet blameless because it knows to fear.
初六有孚不終，乃亂乃萃，若號一握為笑，勿恤，往无咎。
In plain words
Sincere but not to the end, now in disorder, now gathering. If you cry out, one clasp of the hand turns it to laughter. Do not worry; going forward, no blame.
Close reading
Yin in a yang place, not correctly positioned, it resonates with the fourth line: that is its sincerity. But in a gathering the center to join is the fifth, so it wavers and does not see it through, unsettled toward the fourth, gathering toward the fifth. Following the fourth, lines three to five form an inner Xùn, the wind, whose moaning sounds like weeping; turning to the fifth, Duì above is joy, laughter; between them lies an inner Gèn, the hand, to be clasped. The Xiao Xiang: its mind is in disorder.
One level deeper
Line 1, “if it cries out, a single handclasp turns it to laughter”: if Line 1 follows Line 4, lines 3–5 form a nuclear Xùn, wind, whose howling sounds like wailing; if it follows Line 5, the upper Duì is delight, and that is laughter. Between them, lines 2–4 form a nuclear Gèn, the hand: one handshake turns tears to smiles. The hesitation of people who have just come together can be undone by a single clasp of hands.
If you drew this line
Ask yourself who makes you weep and with whom you would laugh. Sort out personal ties from the rightful center, then reach out your hand; once you choose rightly, there is nothing to fear.
六二引吉，无咎，孚乃利用禴。
In plain words
Drawn along: good fortune, no blame. With sincerity, even the simple spring offering is fitting.
Close reading
Yin in a yin place, central and correct, resonating with the fifth. By hexagram change, Cuì comes from Xiǎoguò with its third line rising to the fifth; in Xiǎoguò that line stood right beside the second, so an old friend has become the ruler and still answers it: hence drawn along to good fortune. The 禴 was the spring temple rite, offered with seasonal vegetables, plain but sincere; Xiǎoguò's upper trigram Zhèn is east and spring, and the line that rose to rule brings that spring offering with it, echoing the king at the temple. The Xiao Xiang: its centrality has not changed.
If you drew this line
Someone above is drawing you in. Respond with sincerity; no display is needed, and a plain, heartfelt gesture is exactly right.
A spring offering before a partnership
Someone introduced to a prospective business partner drew this line. Cuì is gathering, and partnership falls within it; an opportunity brought by another's introduction is drawn along; partnership cannot do without good faith, the sincerity of the text. As for the spring offering, a plain sacrifice of seasonal vegetables, it was a reminder not to rely on one's own strength alone but to stay humble and remember where one's blessings come from. Seen this way, success or failure is no longer weighed grudgingly; what one's forebears hope for is not only achievement but goodness.
六三萃如，嗟如，无攸利，往无咎，小吝。
In plain words
Gathering, yet sighing; nothing is favorable. Going forward, no blame, only slight embarrassment.
Close reading
Yin in a yang place, not correctly positioned, it stands among the three yin of Kūn, gathered with its own kind; but the first answers the fourth and the second answers the fifth, while the third has no partner in the top line, both being yin. So it sighs. The Xiao Xiang: above is compliance. Lines three to five form an inner Xùn, yielding; by moving up and fitting in with those above, and since the whole hexagram gathers to the fifth, it goes without blame.
If you drew this line
You have company but few true allies, and sighing is natural. Take the initiative to move closer to the center and work with it; there may be some awkwardness, but no real harm.
九四大吉，无咎。
In plain words
Great good fortune; no blame.
Close reading
Yang in a yin place, misplaced, yet it looks down on the three yin of Kūn, an image of popular support; it answers the first line and stands right beneath the fifth. In a time of gathering it is close to the center, exactly as the hexagram requires, hence great fortune. Why add no blame to great fortune? The Xiao Xiang says why: its position is not proper. Its standing may outrun its virtue, and only care keeps it blameless.
If you drew this line
You have support below and are close to the center; the situation is excellent. Ask honestly whether your character matches your position, and stay restrained so that it lasts.
九五萃有位，无咎。匪孚，元永貞，悔亡。
In plain words
Holding the position at the gathering, no blame. If trust is lacking, be steadfast from the start and for the long term, and regret vanishes.
Close reading
Yang in a yang place, central and correct, with the second line answering below: it has the position. But at a gathering a ruler should care for everyone, and its special bond with the second can look like favoritism; moreover the fourth line stands between it and the people of Kūn, and lines two to four form an inner Gèn, stopping, so its care does not get through. Hence trust is lacking. The Xiao Xiang: its intention has not yet shone forth to all.
One level deeper
Line 5, “in the gathering he has the position; no blame; but trust is not yet there”: the ruler holds the seat, but the people are not fully won over. Line 4 stands between him and the Kūn below, and lies in the nuclear Gèn of lines 2–4, stopping, which separates ruler from people. When a close minister is too popular, the ruler must keep up his virtue longer before real trust forms.
If you drew this line
You hold the position, but not yet the trust. Rather than rushing to prove yourself, keep to what is right over the long run, and extend your care to everyone, not only to those close to you.
上六齎咨涕洟，无咎。
Variant Shown as 「齎咨」; some editions read 「資」.
In plain words
Sighing and lamenting, tears and mucus flowing; no blame.
Close reading
Yin in a yin place, correctly positioned, yet without resonance from the third and so without support; worse, it rides upon the fifth, showing too little respect for the center of the gathering. Watching everyone gather around the fifth while it is left out, it weeps. Duì above is lake and mouth, water and voice together: tears with lament. The Xiao Xiang: it is not at ease at the top. Heartfelt grief shows that it has understood its situation, so there is no blame.
One level deeper
Top line, “sighing and lamenting, tears and snivel; no blame”: the top line is at the crest of Duì, mouth and marsh: sighs out loud and tears flowing. Everyone has gathered at the centre and it is left on the outside. Being willing to weep over it, feeling the fear, is what keeps it from blame.
If you drew this line
If you feel left outside the group, first ask whether you have shown too little respect to its center or to others. Acknowledge it honestly and express regret, and you will be free of blame.
Stories 典
At sixty, attuned to Heaven
The Tuan says gathering follows the mandate of Heaven. This invites a fresh look at the Analects line usually read as at sixty my ear was attuned. One view holds that 耳, ear, may be an interpolation, so that the original meant at sixty I was compliant, that is, compliant with Heaven's mandate; scholars have not settled the question. In early texts 順 usually describes the stance of the lower toward the higher, compliance with Heaven or with parents, and following Heaven's mandate is a common phrase. Consider Confucius in his wandering years: surrounded at Kuang, he said that if Heaven had not meant this culture to perish, what could the men of Kuang do to him; threatened by Huan Tui in Song, he said Heaven had given him his virtue, so what could Huan Tui do; and the border warden of Yi declared that Heaven would make the Master its wooden-tongued bell. A man in danger who still trusts the charge Heaven has laid on him embodies Cuì's gathering in uprightness and following Heaven's mandate.
Sacrifice and arms
The Zuozhuan records Duke Kang of Liu saying that the great affairs of a state are sacrifice and arms. Cuì addresses both: the king at the temple and the great offering are sacrifice; repairing weapons against the unforeseen is arms. Ritual reminds a gathered people of their common root, so that their bond is more than a contest of interests; preparedness reminds them that crowds are where trouble breaks out. The ancients also likened the people to water. Xunzi says water can carry the boat and water can overturn it. A lake upon the land nourishes everything around it, yet once its banks burst it drowns everything. So it is with gathered hearts: held together by reverence, guarded by vigilance.
Insight 悟
Cuì is the only hexagram in which every line says no blame. When people have just come together, great deeds are not yet possible; if they gather rightly and sincerely, serious error is unlikely. Three things matter: find the right center, distinguishing personal ties from the larger good; bind people with a reverence that rises above interest, since a good end needs a good beginning; and wherever people gather, prepare for disorder, remembering danger in safety. For those in charge, Cuì adds that holding the post is not the same as holding hearts; one's care must reach everyone.