The If-Will Continuum and Divinatory Shame
I’m making my way through Edward Shaughnessy’s The Origin and Early Development of the Zhou Changes, a rather masterful (and free to read!) overview of the history of the early Yijing. Shaughnessy engages in extensive discussion of the minute details of the language of the Yi, and does some great work in proposing interpretations and likely original intentions of key terminology, including the cryptic but moving 元亨利貞 yuan heng li zhen hexagram statement for the first hexagram 乾 Qian.
Of more general interest for diviners, beyond those obsessed with the early stages of written Chinese (although I would thoroughly recommend getting obsessed with the early stages of written Chinese as a light relief), Shaughnessy goes into detail breaking down how Chinese turtle-shell divination (卜 bu) questions were actually framed.
The question-asking paradigm for these diviners was developed inside a very different cosmology to contemporary Yijing diviners, but the questions share a lot in common with how many diviners I’ve encountered today formulate their questions. These questions also help illustrate a general issue I have with a false binary between “predictive” and “non-predictive” divination questions and systems.
I haven’t got the laptop battery left to scour through Shaughnessy’s book for exact page references (and hey, one reason I started this blog was to avoid having to be too academic! — but a lot of this is contained in Chapter 2 for the curious), but the process Shaughnessy presents for asking questions questions of turtle-shell divination, which followed through to later milfoil divination, is:
The diviner would state (or ‘affirm’, 貞 zhen) a ‘charge’ or ‘command’ (命 ming1), which was the action that the individual (in the case of recorded turtle-shell divinations, usually the Emperor) was going to undertake. The prognostication of whether the action will be successful or a failure, auspicious or inauspicious, would then be determined by the diviner. It is possible that the auspiciousness of the action was enmeshed in an animistic world-view, wherein the diviner was more directly asking if the action would have the backing of spirits (whether specific ones or the spirit world generally) — backing that would naturally be auspicious!
This is very similar to one of the most common contemporary Yijing question formats: “If I do such-and-such, what will happen?”
While these questions are (usually) less about going to war, the principle is the same: before an action is taken, the querent seeks to know if it will be successful.2
I’ve encountered, sometimes indirectly, comments by Yijing readers to the effect of it being less “predictive” than other divination methods — often presented as a virtue, as the Yi focuses the querent on broader topics of personal development, morality, and spiritual action, rather than simple “fortune telling”. Yet it is clear that these are still predictive questions that seek a predictive answer. The answer does not (necessarily) predict whether or not the querent will do the action in the question, which leaves open a spot for free will, but such a spot is contained within even the more “predictive” systems.
Horary astrology is the best example for this: questions for horary are generally framed as clear cut “What will happen?” or “Will such-and-such-a desired event/outcome occur?” However, contained within these are heavily implicit ifs. “Will she marry me?” is a predictive question, but it relies on a series of assumed actions taken by the querent — “If I continue to be in a relationship with her, and eventually propose, will she marry me?” is simply a more specific version of “If I continue to be a relationship with her, what will happen?”
There are many divination questions wherein there are almost no implicit ifs, except maybe an “If I do nothing, what will happen?” — asking about bureaucratic processes which are making decisions about the querent but are out of the querent’s hands are a good example, such as the querent asking if they will get a job after a job interview has been finished. There are further actions that could be taken by the querent to affect the outcome, for example, throwing their phone into the ocean guaranteeing they will not get a call-back, but these are unlikely. The “What will happen?” element is stronger in these questions.
All divination questions contain both a “hard” predictive aspect of laying out what will happen once a certain course is taken (or how an existing course will play out), alongside an aspect of interaction from the querent, to varying degrees. I call this the “If-Will Continuum”, which sounds like a bad sci-fi show, but it’s a useful heuristic for understanding how divination questions are formed across systems. More-so, this allows you to analyse your own questions for reflecting on what ifs and wills you are asking about.
This dispels the idea of “non-predictive” divination — even if the question is concerned entirely with internal personal growth and decisions made by the querent, it is still predicting something about the outcome of those actions or growth, otherwise asking the question is useless. Even extremely abstract divination questions, such as asking for a symbol to meditate on, involve some kind of predictive work: at the very least, the assumption that the symbol to meditate on will be in some way useful for the querent.
But why is dispelling this idea important? I have the feeling that among divination practitioners, particularly newer ones, there can be an element of shame regarding asking predictive questions. Many introductory books, perhaps well-intentioned, perhaps wanting divination to be taken more “seriously” by people who might not believe claims to its reliability, emphasise divination as a tool for personal growth, and will sometimes go as far as trying to separate out the proper use of Tarot, Yi, astrology (etc.) from “fortune-tellers” or “simple” cases of trying to “just” tell the future.
But in practice, we are all trying to tell the future — what differs between us is only which futures we dare ask about.
Peace,
⭕
Playing Cards and Decans: Cancer III — The Four of Hearts
See the master post on my 2024 decan walk and playing cards
Four of Hearts
Cancer III is the decan of Cancer 20° to 29° (inclusive). Astrologically, it is ruled by the Moon, in a sign ruled by the Moon.
The traditional English method divinatory meanings for this card are:
- A marriage bed.
- Domestic troubles caused by jealousy.
- shows that the person will not be married until very late in life, and that this will proceed from too great a delicacy in making a choice.
- A person near you, not easily convinced.
- A person not easily won.
Reflection
I’m opening this post directly with Agrippa’s image for this decan:
in the third face ascendeth a man a Hunter with his lance and horne, bringing out dogs for to hunt; the signification of this is the contention of men, the pursuing of those who fly, the hunting and possessing of things by arms and brawlings
This puts forward my key association of this card: the lunar hunter. Moon is stacked on Moon, accelerating both the moist emotional intensity of the Moon, and its swiftness.
Breslaw, Source 1, our oldest written source from 1784, simply lists ‘A marriage bed’. But soon we get to jealousy, and then a structure of delay and decision. A person will get married late, due to indecision, and will not be easily convinced or won over. Whether this is the querent or the questied, the joining of two will only come about after some time and convincing. There is a pursuit and a physicality to this card, something that requires strenuous movement. Unlike Cancer II and the Three of Hearts, with its implications of infidelity, this almost feels like a hyperfidelity — a dogged pursuit of a goal, even if it causes troubles.
The Rider-Waite Tarot’s image is a lot quieter than this sounds:
Four of Cups
Yet the focus is here. The figure is looking at the cups ahead, in a process perhaps of decision paralysis, introspection, or overthinking.
Peace,
⭕
Playing Cards and Decans: Cancer II — The Three of Hearts
See the master post on my 2024 decan walk and playing cards
Three of Hearts
Cancer II is the decan of Cancer 10° to 19° (inclusive). Astrologically, it is ruled by Mercury, in a sign ruled by the Moon.
The traditional English method divinatory meanings for this card are:
- A kiss.
- Poverty, shame and sorrow, caused by imprudence. A card of caution.
- shows that your own imprudence will greatly contribute to your experiencing the ill will of others.
- Sorrow caused by your own indiscretion.
- Sorrow caused by a person’s own imprudence.
Reflection
We start with a kiss. Moving from Cancer I to Cancer II changes Venus to Mercury, and we begin to flitter back and forth, with the querent in some way causing their own sorrows through ‘imprudence’. The indication of a kiss in the first source here gets right to the point: this is potentially a card of the querent (not the querent’s partner!) being unfaithful in a monogamous situation. This may be metaphorical, in the case of questions about business or other situations, but the pleasure is transmuted by cerebral Mercury into sorrows.
Agrippa’s image remains optimistic, with some rather nice concrete magical purposes for this decan:
in the second face ascendeth a man cloathed in comely apparrel, or a man and woman sitting at the table and playing; it bestoweth riches, mirth, gladness, and the love of women
This is a binaristic reversal of Cancer I, which featured a woman and was good for ‘the love of men’, although one of the options for the image being both a man and a woman begins to slide Mercury back into the picture. The Rider-Waite card displays this forthright:
Three of Cups
A card of celebration, and generally a very positive card to draw in Tarot, this is also a card of three people. If they are all agreeing and happy to be there, fantastic. If not, then problems will arise — to say the least.
One way to work with the movements of this card is to resolve it in a Mercurial fashion: communication with the other people in the situatoin.
Peace,
⭕
Playing Cards and Decans: Cancer I — The Two of Hearts
See the master post on my 2024 decan walk and playing cards
Two of Hearts
Cancer I is the decan of Cancer 0° to 9° (inclusive). Astrologically, it is ruled by Venus, in a sign ruled by the Moon.
The traditional English method divinatory meanings for this card are:
- Success in life, position in society, and a happy marriage, attained by virtuous discretion.
- shows that extraordinary success and good fortune will attend this person; though if unfavourable cards attend, this will be a long time delayed.
- Success, but it will need care.
- Great success, but equal care and attention needed to secure it.
Reflection
Well, we made it to Cancer, thus completing a quarter of the decans so far!
We are also into the Hearts, arguably the most straightforwardly positive suit in the playing card system — although individual cards may challenge that, as we will see in later decans.
Cancer I, the Two of Hearts, is a jolly card. Succes, happy marriage, with the need for ‘virtuous discretion’. This is all good news, but there is a need for continual work to maintain these successes. The success needs ‘care’ and comes about through discretion, it is not simply a gift from above. Agrippa’s image for this decan is charmingly Venus:
In the first face of Cancer ascendeth the form of a young Virgin, adorned with fine cloathes [clothes], and having a Crown on her head; it giveth acuteness of senses, subtilty of wit, and the love of men
Note that the love of ‘men’ seems specific, as Cancer II’s image specifies the love of ‘women’.
Connecting this card to the astrological symbolism seems quite simple: the benefic Venus is in the moist and cold sign of Cancer, protected by the Moon, although the Moon gives movement and change that means that care is required. Cancer’s pop astrology stereotypes emerges through, with the lunar aspect being a requirement of the querent here: it is not so much that the marriage will be “caring” (although that is certainly a possibility), but that it will require care.
I think this is partly why this is a card of success in the first place. All such relationships and goods require care and attention to secure and maintain. This card’s reminders at the end tell the querent that they need to not simply take such good news for granted.
The Rider-Waite image for this decan is also quite straightforward, although it doesn’t necessarily contain the full implication of care and attention being required to continue the goodness that is flourishing in this card. I want to end with this, as a positive micro-talisman:
Two of Cups
Peace,
⭕
Playing Cards and Decans: Gemini III — The Ten of Spades
See the master post on my 2024 decan walk and playing cards
Ten of Spades
Gemini III is the decan of Gemini 20° to 29° (inclusive). Astrologically, it is ruled by the Sun, in a sign ruled by Mercury.
The traditional English method divinatory meanings for this card are:
- Sickness.
- Disgrace: crime: imprisonment. Death on the scaffold. A card of caution.
- is a card of bad import; it will, in a great measure, counteract the good effects of the cards near you.
- Grief and trouble.
- Grief, imprisonment.
Reflection
Unlike sickness in the previous card, this card indicates grief more overtly, with the possibility of being restrained or contained (although as the first source indicates, sickness is related to this). The Sun in this decan shines a lights on the back-and-forth movements of Mercury, apparent in Agrippa’s image for this face:
In the third, ascendeth a man seeking for Arms, and a fool holding in the right hand a Bird, and in his left a pipe, and they are the significations of forgetfulness, wrath, boldness, jeasts [jests], scurrilities, and unprofitable words
The symbolism of the Sun in this decan is perhaps best understood through the idea of combustion: When a planet is too close to the Sun, it becomes literally invisible to the naked eye, and is considered to be burnt up and significantly less capable of undertaking what it wants to do. Such disappearance is indicated in one literal format with imprisonment in the delineation, but grief and crime come through in the archetype here — things that take place when no-one can see. Agrippa’s mention of forgetfulness follows this out-of-side delineation, with ‘unprofitable words’ reflecting what this could become in the Mercurial realm.
The Rider-Waite is not subtle about this.
Ten of Swords
The “upside” to this card is, essentially, this is the end of whatever cycle this is (which, in almost all cases, is not actually grief or physical restraint). The sword/spade cards have been introduced to the zodiac through the highest numbered cards of the suit — the most extreme indicates are done early. The culmination of the spades journey has been reached, and yes, it sucks, but the problems are now in the past — the present is a case of rebuilding, healing, and deciding where to go next to find a new, productive path.
Peace,
⭕
Playing Cards and Decans: Gemini II — The Nine of Spades
See the master post on my 2024 decan walk and playing cards
Nine of Spades
Gemini II is the decan of Gemini 10° to 19° (inclusive). Astrologically, it is ruled by Mars, in a sign ruled by Mercury.
The traditional English method divinatory meanings for this card are:
- A disappointment.
- Grief: ruin: sickness: death
- is the worst card in the whole pack; it portends dangerous sickness, a total loss of fortune, cruel calamities, and endless dissentions in your family.
- Sickness and misfortune, a most unlucky card.
- A card of very bad import, foretelling sickness and misfortune.
Reflection
I’m writing this shortly after the Sun has ingressed into Cancer — getting too caught up during Gemini season and then having to write two blog posts at once is very Gemini!
Oh, joy, the first spades card that’s ruled by a malefic. It can feel like this card is just a general warning of doom, but closer inspection of the delineations indicates it refers primarily to sickness, with grief and general ‘misfortune’ secondary. Mars — inflammation and heat — is poking at the body, with Gemini indicating the shoulders, with the nervous system a secondary indication. The Martial inversion of one common idiom would be here having swords in your shoulders, embedded and poked.
Agrippa’s image for the face is curious to say the least:
in the second face ascendeth a man in whose hand is a Pipe, and another being bowed down, digging the earth: and they signifie infamous and dishonest agility, as that of Jesters and Juglers [jugglers]; it also signifies labours and painful searchings
Mars and Gemini as indicating jesters is an odd combination but one that “makes sense”, I have to admit. The playing cards reflect more the persons in the image, with digging into the earth a reminder of possible fourth (astrological) house connotations of death and grief. The dishonest agility here is what comes about when you try to keep up appearances during griefs and sicknesses, the fake smile for the sake of others that can just make things worse.
The Rider-Waite Tarot is just as “fun”:
Nine of Swords
My reading of this has always been one awake at night. In Tarot, the swords suit is often related to thoughts (via associations with the element of air). Thinking is a hard habit to quit, and probably the greatest cause of insomnia. The Martial stabs are felt in this card, in a way implied to be more psychological than in the playing card associations — such awake-at-night is a symptom of what the playing card indicates, and likely not the cause.
Put on some relaxing rain sounds and try and get some sleep.
Peace,
⭕