Hexagram 29 – the Abysmal is composed of the trigram Kan, the water, doubled. In many traditional I Ching commentaries this double water is read almost exclusively as a sign of imminent danger, fear, or collapse. Elsewhere I argue for a broader view, one that also acknowledges Kan‘s positive potential – and, by extension, the creative aspects of our own unconscious, with all its unruly currents. Kan does not refer unilaterally to threatening torrents or perilous depths: it can just as well be understood as a symbol of life-giving depth, hidden resources, intuitive adaptability, and the ability to overcome obstacles through creative fluidity.
The psychoanalytic excursus that follows, however, adopts a primarily problem-oriented perspective on the unconscious forces for which Kan stands. The reason is simple: psychoanalysis is a therapeutic enterprise; it encounters the unconscious primarily at the point where it generates suffering and must therefore focus on those impulses that disturb or endanger conscious life. It would be wrong to conclude from this that the unconscious is intrinsically, or even predominantly, negative. It only becomes problematic only when its impulses do not find symbolic expression, when we split them off, repress them, or refuse to integrate them.
However, if we are willing to register these impulses (the lower trigram Kan turns into the first core character, Zhen, the thunder: an inner impulse rises), to give them language or artistic form (Zhen then becomes Gen, the mountain: something has touched me within and I give it a perceivable form to it), and to weave them into our self-understanding, the unconscious can reveal itself as an extraordinarily creative and animating source.
Admittedly, this requires sustained work and sometimes considerable courage; not everyone is willing or able to take on the task. But where the willingness exists, Kan – and in its duplication hexagram 29 – the Abysmal – marks the entrance to inner resources that can make life richer, more flexible, and ultimately more free.
Case Studies
I have received two situational reports in response to Hexagram 29 – the Abysmal which vividly illustrate just how burdensome the impulses from our unconscious layers can become:
- Another user reflects on a glassy sea over shoals as follows: “For me, a glassy sea brings to mind the following: keeping everything calm. From the outside it looks calm, but underneath the glassy surface there are huge emotional shoals. These shoals are the ancient patterns of behavior that have been passed down from generation to generation for thousands of years. I myself, as part of this chain, have no influence on it, my consciousness / body consciousness does not react at all to my wishes for liberation or change. The result is that I am actually powerless. I can rebel against the unwanted circumstances, but when my strength is exhausted, all that remains is resignation. In my case it’s a cycle that has been going on for more than 50 years.”
- One user asks: “How can I now find joy, peace and hope now – as the last descendant of a thorny family drama, impoverished, chronically exhausted, in inner emigration? Must the family always have the last word, may we not choose our own relationships and connections?”
The I Ching answers with 29 – the abysmal.
How can one deal constructively with such situations? Let me start by saying that these are serious life circumstances, and they may sometimes exceed the possibilities of self-reflection or even a heartfelt conversation with a compassionate friend. They often require an inner process that takes time, space – and, in some cases, professional support.
Looking more closely at Hexagram 29 – the Abysmal, we find a possible path in the sequence of its trigrams. First, the lower trigram Kan (the source of unconscious impulses) transforms into the first core character Zhen, the thunder: the impulse rises and reaches my conscious awareness. It touches me, sets something in motion within me. What exactly is it? What thoughts, feelings, or memories arise? And what does it feel like? Physical sensations, in particular, can serve as helpful indicators here.
From Zhen, the second core character arises: Gen, the mountain. How can I give form to this inner impulse that has touched me so deeply? Can I express it in language, perhaps in a poetic text? Or can I shape it into music, a painting, a movement, or a sculpture? And what happens when I face this object, this form? If I look at it as a visitor in a museum, if I listen to it as if it were a foreign text – what new thoughts arise in me?
Externalization is a crucial step in working with inner material. It makes a real difference whether a thought simply swirls around inside, or whether we give it a tangible form – something of our own, yet separate from us, now existing in the outer world. In this new, externalized object, we encounter something that is opposite to us – and this encounter often sets in motion further associations. This brings us back to Kan, the final trigram: the unconscious, which moves us again with new impulses.
Yes, we are part of our history, part of our family history – and that is not always easy to bear. But we can work to integrate this legacy into our self-understanding, by processing it in our own way, claiming it as ours, and thereby transforming it. And perhaps one day, what was once a foreign burden will become an inner source of strength.
Further Questions on Hexagram 29
- Due to circumstances beyond her control a user lives in an international long-distance relationship. Her libertarian partner is fine with it, for herself it is a “better than nothing”: Basically the situation does not work for her.
- The user’s landlord terminated his lease for personal use – after less than a year and a lot of money spent for renovation. With three children and a dog, however, it is not easy to find an affordable replacement. The lawyer advises calm. The question to the I Ching is, “Will there be a lawsuit and how will it turn out for us?”
- One user asks: “Will I ever be able to open up to a partner or love again?”
Excursus: I Ching and Psychoanalysis
Hexagram 29 – the Abysmal
Keywords: Depth of the Unconscious | Fragmented and Transgenerational Memory | Symbolization and Expression
In psychoanalytic theory, the unconscious is not simply a place of repression or a repository of past memories. Rather, it is a structured dimension of the psyche that operates according to its own rules and in which inner experience appears in enigmatic structures: condensed into ciphers, shifted into other fields of meaning, broken into fragments that resemble language but never quite correspond to it. Freud described the unconscious as the “truly real psychic”, operating in the innermost part of the subject, often perceptible but unable to be articulated in clear thoughts or consciously retrievable memories.
In this understanding, memory is not a reproduction of historical events but a dynamic process of symbolic elaboration. The unconscious does not “remember” in chronological order, but in a mode of return. It organizes experience through associative shifts, symbolic condensation, and affective intensity. Jacques Lacan radicalized this idea by emphasizing that it is not what actually happened, but what was linguistically structured – what was named, interpreted and understood – that is decisive for the subject.
Moreover, the unconscious is not limited to what the individual has personally experienced. Modern psychoanalysis – particularly in the context of trauma studies and transgenerational research – emphasizes that psychic traces can be transmitted across generations, especially if they have never been symbolized. Experiences of loss, family trauma, or unresolved guilt that could not be spoken of within a family system may manifest in the subject as affective dissonance, irrational guilt, or diffuse anxiety. This is psychic material that cannot be historically remembered because it was never personally experienced – yet it acts as if it were part of one’s history.
Such contents cannot be directly integrated by the subject. They often appear first in symptomatic form – psychological, somatic, or relational. And yet they can be symbolized: through language, artistic expression, or therapeutic work. What is symbolized is not erased, but made legible. It becomes part of a reflective self-relationship, of a subject that questions itself – even where it feels alienated from itself.
Thus, the unconscious is more than a site of abyssal depth, it is also a source of inner truth and creative power. It holds not only what burdens us, but also what moves and inspires us. It contains not only darkness but also possibility: unexplored meanings, new connections, unmet desires, creative impulses. In this sense, the unconscious – especially when it is symbolized and integrated – can become a resource: a psychic depth from which meaning, vitality, and transformation can emerge.
The current interpretation can be found here: https://www.no2do.com/hexagramme_en/878878.htm
