Man, relationships. They always screw you up. I was sitting here maybe three weeks back, staring at the ceiling, totally wrapped up in confusion about this girl, Sarah, and realizing I had absolutely no clue what I was doing. Every bit of modern dating advice I tried—all the stupid ‘don’t text back for two hours’ games and ‘keep them guessing’ nonsense—it just made me feel like a fake person. I was exhausted. I needed an answer that wasn’t about manipulation. I needed something ancient, something that had actually stood the test of time, because the modern garbage was clearly failing me.
Stumbling Into Hexagram 31
I remembered seeing this huge, chunky, beat-up copy of the I Ching, the Book of Changes, on my shelf. I’d bought it years ago, thinking I’d get smart, then promptly forgot it existed. It always seemed like this big, complicated academic hurdle. But I was desperate. I needed clarity on influence, on how two people connect, which is basically the fundamental question of any serious relationship.
I dug the book out, wiped the dust off, and started hunting. I skipped the history lessons and just went straight for the relationship keywords—attraction, union, movement. And bam! I hit Hexagram 31. It’s called ‘Xian’ or sometimes translated as ‘Influence’ or ‘Courtship.’ The symbolism is the Mountain (Qian) resting beneath the Lake (Dui). It’s all about receptive influence. It felt right instantly.
I wasn’t going to just read the commentary; I decided I had to cast the damn thing myself. I wanted the true practice. This wasn’t a casual lookup; this was a desperate spiritual intervention. My first task was the hardest: finding three identical coins. I spent maybe forty minutes tearing apart my laundry room and the couch cushions. Found three oxidized quarters from 1998. Perfect—they had history.
The Casting Process: From Question to Line
The instructions for the Yarrow stalk method looked insane, so I immediately simplified it. Coins are easier. Heads counts as 3 (Strong, Yang), tails as 2 (Broken, Yin). You toss them six times, stacking the resulting lines from the bottom up. I grabbed a pen and wrote down my specific, messy question clearly on a coaster: “What is the underlying dynamic I need to adjust to allow a genuine connection with Sarah?”
I sat down and started tossing. Every single toss was deliberate, waiting for the coins to land flat before I counted them up. It was actually intense, almost meditative. Here’s what my casting looked like:
- Toss 1 (The Foundation): Came up 2, 2, 3. Total 7. A steady Yin line (a solid, broken line).
- Toss 2: Came up 3, 3, 2. Total 8. A moving Yin line (Old Yin, changing to Yang).
- Toss 3: Came up 3, 3, 3. Total 9. Old Yang line (a moving Yang, changing to Yin).
- Toss 4: Came up 2, 2, 2. Total 6. Old Yin line (changing to Yang).
- Toss 5: Came up 3, 2, 3. Total 8. Steady Yang line.
- Toss 6 (The Top): Came up 3, 3, 2. Total 8. Steady Yang line.
The primary result was Hexagram 31, ‘Influence.’ But the really important part was those moving lines—especially the second and third. They showed the dynamic that was currently moving and needed attention. When I calculated the change, Hexagram 31 mutated into Hexagram 20, ‘Contemplation’ or ‘Viewing.’ That shift was the instruction set.
The Ugly Truth of the Calves
I skipped the generalized meaning of 31 and dove straight into the moving lines. The meaning for the second line was the absolute gut punch I needed. It talked about “Influence felt in the calves.” It sounds totally random, right? But the commentary explained it simply: The calves are associated with movement, with walking. Influence in the calves means you are constantly trying to walk towards something, trying to push the outcome, but the influence isn’t rooted yet. It’s unstable. It’s influence that hasn’t settled in the core or the heart.
I instantly recognized myself. I realized I had been spending all my energy chasing Sarah, trying to schedule the next perfect date, trying to define the relationship status, always moving, always pushing. I wasn’t rooted. I was chasing, which made my influence weak and chaotic. The I Ching was screaming at me to stop running.
Then I looked at the change hexagram, 20, ‘Contemplation.’ The instruction was clear: Stop acting, start viewing. Stop chasing the relationship and start observing myself and the dynamic without judgment. It wasn’t about some grand cosmic fate; it was about stopping being an anxious idiot.
The Outcome: Stillness is the New Strategy
This whole practice, the scramble for coins, the deliberate tossing, the intense reading—it forced me to halt my pattern of behavior immediately. I stopped trying to force texts, stopped trying to plan three dates ahead. I literally took the advice and became the Mountain: stable, grounded, just reflecting the Lake (Sarah) without trying to merge or move her.
The dynamic shifted within days. Once I backed off and focused purely on being present and listening when we were together, and focusing on my own projects when we weren’t, she started initiating way more contact. She even brought up the topic of exclusivity first. It wasn’t a magic trick by the I Ching; it was the I Ching making me realize that genuine influence comes from internal stability, not external hustle.
If you’re stuck in relationship chaos, forget the gurus. Just grab three coins, ask the question about your internal approach, and see what this ancient book says about stillness versus frantic movement. It forces you to look at your own actions, and honestly, that practical check-in worked for me when months of overthinking hadn’t. It was the fastest, messiest self-help session I’ve ever had.
