How Did the Ancients Consult the Almanac Before Traveling? Insights into Travel Decision-Making Wisdom from the *Pi* (Obstruction) Hexagram

In the Northern Song Dynasty, there lived an old scholar named Shao Yong, who loved to squat in his courtyard calculating auspicious days in his spare time. Whenever friends invited him to go sightseeing in the mountains and waters, he would always first divine a hexagram by pinching his fingers to count the time, calling it "scouting the way first." Nowadays, some might dismiss this as unnecessary fuss, but in essence, it is nothing more than a risk assessment—no different from checking the weather forecast and traffic conditions before you set off on a trip.

Take for example someone who divines a hexagram to ask whether a trip will go smoothly, and receives *Heaven-Earth Pi* (Obstruction), with the first line moving, transforming into *Heaven-Thunder Wu Wang* (Without Falsehood). The name of the original hexagram sounds ominous: "Pi" means obstruction and blockage, as if one is bound to run into trouble the moment they step out the door. But don’t rush to cancel your tickets just yet. The ancients’ greatest taboo when interpreting hexagrams was taking the names at face value; one must peel back the layers to examine them carefully.

The original hexagram is *Pi*, with *Qian* (Heaven) above and *Kun* (Earth) below. Heaven is up high and Earth is down low, each going its own way with no interaction. Applied to travel, this means that early-stage coordination is prone to problems: you might misread the date when booking a hotel, dawdle while packing and miss the bus, or hit a highway traffic jam right after leaving the city. These are all minor, middling annoyances that might drive an impatient person to frustration, but fundamentally pose no great danger.

The moving line is the first line (the six at the beginning), and its line statement reads: "Pull up the茅草 (thatch) by its roots, and it brings up a cluster of its kind. To be steadfast is auspicious, and there will be success." This is a vivid metaphor: when pulling thatch, you have to yank it by the roots to get a whole clump, instead of plucking one stem here and another there. Applied to travel, it means preparation must be thorough: don’t remember to check ticket reservations only when you’re about to leave, don’t realize you left your ID at home only after arriving at the station. If you sort out all the details from start to finish, those vexing little problems will naturally resolve themselves. The "auspiciousness" in the *Zhouyi* (Book of Changes) is never a windfall from the sky; it is always the result of doing things correctly.

The middle mutual hexagram is *Wind-Earth Guan* (Viewing), with wind blowing over the earth, evoking the image of glancing at flowers while passing by on horseback. This indicates that this trip is not suitable for rushing from place to place—don’t cram five attractions into one day like you’re checking off KPIs. Slow down and wander: the old lady selling sweet soup by the roadside, the ancient mansion hidden in the alley—these may bring you unexpected surprises. If you do encounter crowded scenic spots or long lines at restaurants, don’t get anxious. Treat it as joining the crowd to observe the myriad forms of human life; that too is part of travel.

The final transformed hexagram is *Heaven-Thunder Wu Wang* (Without Falsehood), and these two characters are the key point: do not act recklessly. It means don’t change your itinerary on a whim just because a passerby casually says some place is nice, don’t rashly take a side path just because it looks shorter. Stick to the plan you made in advance, and you will generally avoid major mistakes. The core essence of the *Wu Wang* hexagram is "upholding what is right": take the bus when you should, enter through the main gate when you should, don’t always try to take shortcuts or play clever tricks. More often than not, the safest route is the fastest one.

Going deeper, the body hexagram is *Qian* metal, and the function hexagram is *Kun* earth. Earth generates metal, which means this trip is fundamentally nourishing for you. Even if there are small twists and turns along the way, you will feel it was worth it when you return—whether because you saw new scenery, met interesting people, or simply changed your environment and lifted your spirits. The ancients said "movement brings benefit," but the premise is that you move in an orderly and proper way.

So you see, it is not the hexagram that determines your itinerary. The hexagram helps you pull out the vague worries in your mind and lay them out clearly one by one: if the early stage is prone to snags, pack your luggage three days in advance; if the middle part is prone to changes, schedule your itinerary more loosely; if you tend to get carried away later on, set rules for yourself and don’t make random changes. This is the same logic as risk prediction in modern project management—it’s just that the ancients used hexagrams and lines as a framework for categorization.

Next time before you go out, there’s no need to agonize over it. Learn from Old Mr. Shao’s way of thinking: first go through all the links where problems might arise, make thorough preparations, slow down your pace, and don’t toss yourself around unnecessarily. Even the worst itinerary can be enjoyable. After all, half the joy of travel lies in the scenery, and the other half in your mindset when dealing with all kinds of little mishaps.