Auspicious, Ominous, Regret, Distress, No Blame

What each verdict means

Some of the words in judgments and line statements describe a situation; others pronounce on the outcome. The verdict words met most often are jí 吉 (auspicious), xiōng 凶 (ominous), huǐ 悔 (regret), lìn 吝 (distress) and wújiù 无咎 (no blame), along with lì 厲 (danger) and lì 利 (favourable). The Great Commentary defines them: “Auspicious and ominous speak of loss and gain; regret and distress speak of small flaws; no blame means being good at mending faults.”

Auspicious: the wish is fulfilled; something is gained. The highest grade, yuánjí 元吉, “supremely auspicious”, appears in only twelve of the 384 lines. Ominous: the wish fails; something is lost. Regret: chagrin, the discovery that one has erred. Distress: its root sense is “narrow”. The way is blocked, the position awkward, often with a tinge of shame. No blame: no disaster, nothing to be faulted for.

Roughly, the ranking runs: supremely auspicious and auspicious; then no blame; then distress and danger; ominous at the bottom. But it is not a report card. The Great Commentary also says: “Auspicious and ominous are images of loss and gain; regret and distress are images of worry and deliberation.” Auspicious and ominous are outcomes. Regret and distress are states of mind along the way. An outcome, once reached, is fixed. A state of mind can still turn.

Heaven's way has no good or bad fortune

Someone might ask: since there are ominous hexagrams and ominous lines, why not remove them and publish a Yijing in which all sixty-four are auspicious? Everyone would love it. It would also be a lie.

“Heaven's way has no good or bad fortune.” In the movement of the cosmos there is no auspicious or ominous: the moon waxes and wanes, the year turns warm and cold, and none of the sixty-four hexagrams or 384 lines can be spared. Winter is not summer's failure; Stripping is not a mistake that Return corrects. Each belongs to the whole.

Where, then, do good and bad fortune come from? From human desire. The Great Commentary says: “when love and aversion collide, auspicious and ominous are born.” What I want and get is auspicious; what I want and lose is ominous. The same rain is a blessing to a farmer and a disaster for a wedding party. So when a line says “ominous”, it means: the thing you intend, pursued the way you are now pursuing it, will not turn out as you wish. It is not a curse. If you apply to a school and draw an ominous line, this application will not succeed; try another direction, and do not frighten yourself.

Seen this way, the purpose of the Yi becomes clear. Distinguishing good from bad fortune is a means of adjusting your own wishes and conduct. Temper desire, and every hexagram has something to offer. The key to “seeking the auspicious and avoiding the ominous” lies not outside you but in your own character.

Regret turns upward; distress slides downward

Regret and distress are both “small flaws”, similar in size but opposite in direction.

Regret is the mind beginning to feel chagrin, recognising a wrong turn and wanting to correct it. Once a person regrets, there is hope, because regret makes him turn, and turning leads gradually toward the auspicious. The Great Commentary says: “What rouses one to no blame lies in regret.” Qian's top line, “the overreaching dragon has regret”, flies too high, where it is cold and lonely; if it can recognise this and step back, there is still room to recover. Return's first line is the model: “returning before going far; no great regret; supremely auspicious.” Turn back early and regret never grows large.

Distress is being stuck in difficulty without regret, without willingness to change, only thinking about how to force through. That is the dangerous one; without a change of direction it slides toward the ominous. Zhun's third line: “Chasing deer without a forester, he only plunges into the forest. The jūnzǐ sees the signs and would rather let it go. To press on brings distress.” The deer has fled into the woods, there is no guide; the wise man gives up. Insisting on the chase is what distress looks like.

So a line of regret is no cause for gloom; it is a chance to correct course. A line of distress calls for alertness: what are you clinging to? The Yi writes these words not as a sentence passed, but as a reminder that there is still time.

No blame: good at mending faults

“No blame” occurs about ninety-five times in the 384 lines, which means roughly one cast in four lands on it. That alone says something: much of life is ordinary, nothing to be anxious about, and you cannot expect every reading to promise great fortune.

But “no blame” is more than “nothing wrong”. The Great Commentary settles it in one phrase: “No blame means being good at mending faults.” Freedom from disaster comes from repairing one's errors. In other words, there was a fault or a risk, and because you kept doing the right thing to repair it, disaster did not come. The classic example is Qian's third line: “The jūnzǐ is active all day long; at nightfall he is wary as if in danger; no blame.” The third line is the most exposed seat, at the top of the lower trigram. Working hard by day and examining himself by night, as though danger were near, he avoids blame. No blame is earned.

On the other hand, do not take “no blame” as a reason to do nothing. Many people draw it and think: not auspicious, so forget it. But if you will not do anything that carries no disaster, what will you do? No blame is good. Things are safe; carry on with what you meant to do. Only remember to keep mending as you go.

Put the five words together and the attitude of the Yi is plain. Outcomes are produced by actions, and actions are decided by the mind. Meet “auspicious” without pride, “ominous” without despair; meet “regret” by changing, “distress” by taking care, and “no blame” by continuing with diligence.