The name 名
The character shows a tree boxed inside an enclosure, its branches unable to spread. Kùn 困 is less about lack than about constraint: any situation in which one's aims cannot move forward.
The image 象
Lake 兌 sits above and Water 坎 below: the water has drained out beneath the marsh, leaving it dry, hence “a lake without water.” All three yang lines lie under yin ones, 九二 under 六三, 九四 and 九五 under 上六, so the strong are eclipsed. Danger within and composure without: the hexagram asks for a calm face in a hard place.
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 Kǎn, the middle son; above is Duì, the youngest daughter. The water has leaked out under the marsh, leaving it dry; the hard-working son is pressed down below, and above the youngest daughter has only smiles and words left. All three yang lines are covered by yin: capable people are hemmed in on every side. Being hemmed in is not failure; to keep a cheerful face outside (Duì) while holding firm through danger inside (Kǎn) is what this hexagram asks.
Line 1, “buttocks pinned on a tree stump; entering a dark valley”: Line 1 is at the bottom of Kǎn, and its partner Line 4 cannot even help itself. Line 4 lies in the nuclear Xùn of lines 3–5, the thighs and buttocks, and in the nuclear Lí of lines 2–4, a withered tree. Seated on a dead stump, Line 1 is below the light of that Lí, which never reaches the dark valley.
Line 2, “hemmed in by wine and food; the red sash is coming; it is fitting to make offerings”: Kǎn is water and wine, and Line 2 is also in the nuclear Lí, fire; water and fire make cooking, so it is trapped among wine and food: not short of provisions but tangled in banquets and routine. Being central, it will receive the ruler’s commission (the red sash) in time; for now sincere offering is better than marching out.
Line 3, “hemmed in by stone, leaning on thorns; entering the house, he does not see his wife; misfortune”: Kùn comes from Pǐ. In Pǐ, lines 2–4 formed a nuclear Gèn, small stones and the gateway; after the change Line 3, which never moved, is stuck in stone and has passed through the gate. Pǐ’s lower Kūn, the mother and wife, is gone, so even at home he cannot find his wife. Without support outside or in, this is the darkest line of the hexagram.
Line 5, “nose cut, feet cut; hemmed in by the red-sashed ministers; slowly there is release”: Pǐ’s nuclear Gèn was the nose and its nuclear Xùn the thighs; in Kùn both are gone, so nose and feet are injured. Even the ruler is constrained by his own officials (the red sashes). Line 5 lies in the nuclear Xùn, indecision, so things must go slowly; but the upper Duì means shedding, and the trap can be shaken off in the end.
Inverted, Kùn becomes Jǐng. In Kùn the water has drained beneath the marsh; in Jǐng a wooden bucket draws water up from below. Both concern scarce water, but Kùn sees only dryness while Jǐng finds a way to draw from the depths. When you are hemmed in, ask whether resources buried below could be raised another way.
Lines 2–4 of Kùn form Lí and lines 3–5 form Xùn, so its nuclear hexagram is Jiā Rén, the Family. Hardship often lands at home: Line 3 coming home and not finding his wife is the picture of a wounded household. Seen the other way, what most holds a person up in hard times is also the family.
In sequence 序
升而不已，必困，故受之以困。
The Sequence says: “Rising without end must meet confinement; hence Confinement follows.” After the steady ascent of Shēng 升, limits are inevitable. Confinement is the price of climbing, and also the test that may turn into a way through.
The judgment 辭
困：亨，貞大人吉，无咎，有言不信。
Confinement: there is still passage. Steadfast, the great person has good fortune and no blame. Words spoken now will not be believed. How can confinement pass through? What is trapped is the body and the circumstance, while the mind and the Way stay open. Good fortune belongs to the great person who holds firm; for others, keeping one's line at least means no blame. And in trouble, explanations and promises carry little weight, since listeners suspect you only want rescue.
Commentary on the judgment 彖
彖曰：困，剛掩也。險以說，困而不失其所，亨；其唯君子乎？貞大人吉，以剛中也。有言不信，尚口乃窮也。
The Tuan names the core: the strong eclipsed by the weak. “Danger, yet joy”: to stay glad and keep one's ground amid danger is possible only for the noble person. The great person's fortune comes from firmness held at the center, in 九二 and 九五. Its last line is blunt: “Relying on the mouth leads to dead ends.”
The great image 象
象曰：澤无水，困；君子以致命遂志。
“A lake without water: Confinement. The noble person gives his life to fulfil his aim.” The aim here is not career but what a person is for: humaneness and rightness. It is the line that runs from Confucius's “give one's life to complete humaneness” to Mencius's “give up life to choose rightness,” and marks the Commentaries as Confucian.
The six lines 爻
Ruling line 九二 and 九五 both hold firmness at the center, which is what the Tuan means by “the great person's good fortune comes from firm centrality.” Both yang, they do not normally correspond, yet being eclipsed alike they seek each other as allies.
The path of the six lines, bottom to top
Line 1 sits on a dead stump in a dark valley, unseen for three years: the hardship is just beginning. Line 2 lacks neither food nor drink but is tangled in banquets and chores, and can only wait sincerely for a commission from above. Line 3, at the top of the lower trigram, hits stone, leans on thorns, and comes home to find no wife: the deepest point of distress. Line 4, entering the upper trigram, wants to rescue Line 1, but its help comes slowly, as if stuck in a bronze carriage; regrettable, yet it gets there. Line 5 is a ruler constrained by his own ministers, nose and feet injured, freeing himself only slowly. The top line is tangled in creepers and regrets every move, but once it admits its mistakes and goes forward, it breaks free and things go well.
初六臀困于株木，入于幽谷，三歲不覿。
In plain words
Seated trapped on a bare stump, one sinks into a dark valley and is not seen for three years.
Close reading
A yin line in a yang place, out of position, at the very bottom of Water: the floor of the valley. It corresponds with 九四, but 九四 is trapped too; reaching it takes three steps, hence “three years.” The Small Image says “dark, not bright”: light lies just above, yet this line still sits in the shadow beneath it.
One level deeper
Line 1, “buttocks pinned on a tree stump; entering a dark valley”: Line 1 is at the bottom of Kǎn, and its partner Line 4 cannot even help itself. Line 4 lies in the nuclear Xùn of lines 3–5, the thighs and buttocks, and in the nuclear Lí of lines 2–4, a withered tree. Seated on a dead stump, Line 1 is below the light of that Lí, which never reaches the dark valley.
If you drew this line
Help cannot reach you yet. Don't thrash about; settle yourself and wait patiently for the light to return.
九二困于酒食，朱紱方來，利用亨祀，征凶，无咎。
In plain words
Hemmed in by wine and food, while the crimson sash of office is just arriving. It is fitting to make offerings; to advance brings misfortune; no blame.
Close reading
Yang in a yin place, off position but central, and covered by 六三. Water yields wine, hence food and drink; the crimson sash signals favor from 九五. Two yang lines would not normally correspond, but here, both oppressed, they make common cause. The Small Image: “Centered, there is blessing.” Wealth and rank can themselves confine, which is why Mencius warns that the noble person is not corrupted by riches.
One level deeper
Line 2, “hemmed in by wine and food; the red sash is coming; it is fitting to make offerings”: Kǎn is water and wine, and Line 2 is also in the nuclear Lí, fire; water and fire make cooking, so it is trapped among wine and food: not short of provisions but tangled in banquets and routine. Being central, it will receive the ruler’s commission (the red sash) in time; for now sincere offering is better than marching out.
If you drew this line
Comfort and favor come, but the constraint remains. Stay reverent and centered; do not press forward on the strength of them.
六三困于石，據于蒺藜，入于其宮，不見其妻，凶。
Variant Shown as 「蒺藜」; some editions read 「蔾」.
In plain words
Trapped among rocks, leaning on thorns; entering one's house, one does not find one's wife. Misfortune.
Close reading
Yin in a yang place, off position, with no answer from 上六. It rides on 九二 and lies beneath 九四: the only yin line caught between two yang. Meaning to eclipse the strong, it ends up surrounded, like a go player encircled while trying to encircle. The Small Image: it “rides the firm,” leaning on what cannot hold it; and it is “inauspicious,” since even home is lost. Confucius, in the Appended Remarks: “To be trapped where one should not be brings disgrace; to lean on what one should not brings peril.”
One level deeper
Line 3, “hemmed in by stone, leaning on thorns; entering the house, he does not see his wife; misfortune”: Kùn comes from Pǐ. In Pǐ, lines 2–4 formed a nuclear Gèn, small stones and the gateway; after the change Line 3, which never moved, is stuck in stone and has passed through the gate. Pǐ’s lower Kūn, the mother and wife, is gone, so even at home he cannot find his wife. Without support outside or in, this is the darkest line of the hexagram.
If you drew this line
One of the sternest warnings in the book. Ask whether you have entered the wrong place or leaned on the wrong support; learn to decline opportunities your ability and character cannot yet carry.
Confucius on the Wrong Confinement
In the Appended Remarks, Confucius glosses this line: to be trapped where one should not be brings disgrace; to lean on what one should not brings peril; disgraced and imperilled, one's end is near, so how could one find one's wife? The key words are “should not.” Confinement is often not fate but a door one chose. Faced with a tempting offer, ask three things: can I do this, do I want to, and ought I to?
九四來徐徐，困于金車，吝，有終。
Variant Shown as 「來徐徐，困于金車」; some editions read 「荼荼、轝」.
In plain words
Coming slowly, slowly, hemmed in by a golden carriage. Regret, yet it comes to an end.
Close reading
Yang in a yin place, off position, hence regret; yet it alone among the yang lines has a partner, 初六, hence “an end.” Within the inner Wind trigram, which wavers and fails to decide, it wants to go down to help but hesitates. The golden carriage comes from the parent hexagram 否 (metal of Heaven, carriage of Earth): staying put, it is bound by status and assets. The Small Image: “its aim is below; though out of place, it has a partner.” This edition reads 荼荼 and 轝 in the line text; the Small Image has 徐徐.
If you drew this line
You mean to help, or to get free, but existing commitments slow you down. Accept the slowness without losing direction; it will reach a conclusion.
Fang Thomé's “Take It Slowly”
Late in life the philosopher Fang Thomé wrote Chinese Philosophy: Its Spirit and Its Development in English to bring the tradition to Western readers. No American press would take it; Linking Publishing in Taiwan finally did, and few read it. He had asked a former student to translate it into Chinese, leaving a note: “Take it slowly.” The student did, and the translation took more than a decade; impatient fellow students even broke with him for a time. When it finally appeared it was excellent, and all was forgiven. Two “slowlys” can mean care or delay; 九四's regret and its good end are both there.
九五劓刖，困于赤紱，乃徐有說，利用祭祀。
In plain words
Nose cut, feet cut: hemmed in by the scarlet sash of rule. Slowly comes release; it is fitting to make sacrifice.
Close reading
Yang in a yang place, central and correct, in the ruler's seat, yet covered by 上六 and unanswered by 九二: constrained above and below. The two mutilations picture an aim thwarted: “the aim not yet attained.” The scarlet sash is rank already held, now a fetter. 說 reads as 脫, “to come loose”: Lake above suggests shedding, and by being “central and upright” one slowly gets free. When human help is exhausted, there remains sincere offering, through which one “receives blessing.”
One level deeper
Line 5, “nose cut, feet cut; hemmed in by the red-sashed ministers; slowly there is release”: Pǐ’s nuclear Gèn was the nose and its nuclear Xùn the thighs; in Kùn both are gone, so nose and feet are injured. Even the ruler is constrained by his own officials (the red sashes). Line 5 lies in the nuclear Xùn, indecision, so things must go slowly; but the upper Duì means shedding, and the trap can be shaken off in the end.
If you drew this line
High responsibility, constrained on all sides, with no human remedy at hand. Keep centered and upright, slow down, and let sincerity and faith sustain you; release takes time.
上六困于葛藟，于臲卼，曰動悔。有悔，征吉。
In plain words
Entangled in creepers, perched on a tottering height. One says, “Every move brings regret.” If there is real remorse, going forward brings good fortune.
Close reading
Yin in a yin place and so in position, but riding on the two strong lines 九四 and 九五 at the very top, so the Small Image calls it “not fitting,” a teetering perch. Confinement at its extreme is confinement about to end. The key is remorse: once one regrets, one restrains oneself, and restraint loosens the vines. “Going is auspicious”: to move now is to walk out.
If you drew this line
The worst is nearly over. Look honestly at your earlier moves, rein yourself in, and then move; that is the way out.
Stories 典
Starving Between Chen and Cai
Travelling among the states, Confucius ran out of food in Chen; his followers fell ill and could not rise. Zilu came to him indignant: “Does the noble person also come to such straits?” Confucius replied: “The noble person holds firm in straits; the petty person in straits runs to excess.” The noble are not spared hardship; the difference is that they keep their ground. The same plight, opposite outcomes, decided by character. It is the best gloss on Confinement's “confined without losing one's place, and so passing through.”
Wen Tianxiang: Integrity Shown in Extremity
At the end of the Southern Song, Wen Tianxiang raised troops against the Mongols, was defeated, captured and taken to Dadu. For years the Yuan court offered him high office if he would submit; he refused. Held in an earthen cell beset by damp and foulness, he wrote the “Song of Righteous Spirit,” saying that one upright energy kept every noxious vapor at bay, and that “when the times are at their worst, integrity is revealed.” He went calmly to his execution. “Giving one's life to fulfil one's aim” was, for him, not a slogan but the completion of a life.
Insight 悟
Hardship is the touchstone of character: in easy times no one can tell who is noble, as Confucius said, only in the cold of winter do we see that pine and cypress are last to fade. Notice that the yang lines are trapped by wine, a golden carriage and a scarlet sash, the yin lines by stumps, thorns and vines: poverty confines, and so does wealth, so envy neither. In confinement, speak less and act more; words will not get you out. Use the quiet for study and reflection, moving from enduring to accepting to being at ease. Circumstances can confine you; only you can let go of your aim.