无尘阁日记

无尘阁日记

初九:履错然,敬之无咎;人生任何第一次慌乱出错都是正常的!
2025-06-12

初九:履错然,敬之无咎。

象传:

履错之敬,以辟咎也。

阳爻居阳位,得位不得中。他上无应,有六二承。初动有人承、支持,挺好。内有丽,开始动,但毕竟初动,只怕难以行稳。

履行错位,或者履带错位,总之就是行动不那么顺利,有些手忙脚乱的样子。

不要紧,敬之无咎。心中有敬,行动上也表现出敬,哪怕有些错乱、慌乱,没问题,大家都有纳人之量。

象传也说了,履错没关系,敬就行,而敬就是避开、化解咎的办法。


我们来细细体会这句《易经》中的话:“初九:履错然,敬之无咎。”这句话讲的是一个行动刚刚开始的状态,也就是人生中第一次踏出脚步的那个瞬间。就像你刚入职一家公司,或者刚开始一段新的关系,又或者走进一场聚会时,面对一屋子不认识的人——你可能不知道该站在哪、该说什么、该以怎样的状态进入。这时你的行动也许有点慌张、有点迟疑,节奏也不太对劲。这就是“履错然”所描述的状态:脚步错乱,走得不稳,甚至显得有些笨拙。但这并不是出于恶意,而是所有“第一次”里非常自然的现象。

但这一爻的智慧正在于,它并没有要求我们完美。它没有说“你得等到完全有把握再出手”,它只是提醒你:“敬之无咎。”只要你怀着一颗敬重的心去面对当下这个状态,就算走得磕磕绊绊,也不会有什么大问题。这里的“敬”,不是表面上的客套或拘谨,也不是故作姿态的谦逊,而是一种发自内心的认真与用心。你把这个空间、这个时刻、这个开端,当作值得被善待、被用心对待的存在。你不急着表现自己,不装作已经掌握一切。你真实地、如其所是地站在那里,用全部的注意力活在当下。

在现实生活里,“敬之无咎”可能像是这样:一个新老师走进教室开始他的第一堂课,他可能紧张得声音发抖,讲稿翻错页,学生一脸迷惑。但只要他内心是真的想教好这群学生,真的尊重这件事、这个场域、这个身份——那么,他的真诚是可以被感受到的。人们是能分辨出一个人是否在“装”,还是在用心。而当这种真实出现时,即使外在表现有点拙,也会得到意想不到的善意回应。

又比如一个人第一次走进心理咨询室。第一次谈话总是别扭的。他不知道该从哪里讲起,话说得结结巴巴,可能还说了一些不太准确的内容。但如果他是怀着愿意面对自己的心情进来的,是带着尊重这段旅程的态度走进来的——不是把它当成一个发泄出口,而是当作一个慢慢了解自己的地方——那么,即使这些语言一开始很混乱,改变也已经在悄悄发生。

所以,这一爻说的,其实是一种安定人心的道理:我们都会犯错、会手忙脚乱、会不知所措,但决定成败的从来不是这些小错本身。真正重要的是,你走入这个局面时,心里有没有那一份诚恳与尊重。如果你心浮气躁、目的急切,即便技术再熟练,也容易带来破坏。但如果你心中存有一份敬意,哪怕动作还不熟练,事情也往往会顺势展开。

这是我们走进每一个新领域、新角色、新阶段时应有的姿态:不是想着装出一副老练的样子,而是有勇气做真实的自己,同时不失对这段旅程的尊重。“敬”就像你手里提着的一盏灯,光不大,却足够照亮眼前这一步,而这一步,其实就已经够了。

如夜话,至此。


英文版:

Let’s take a closer look at the meaning behind this line from the I Ching: 初九:履错然,敬之无咎。 This line describes the very beginning of action, the first step into a situation that is not yet stable. In daily life, it feels a lot like stepping into a new job, trying to navigate a new relationship, or walking into a room full of strangers at a gathering—you’re not sure where to stand, how to speak, or what kind of energy to bring. Your movements might be awkward, your timing a little off. That’s what “履错然” points to: missteps, hesitations, maybe a little clumsiness. It’s not malicious, it’s just the reality of starting something when you haven’t yet found your footing.

But here’s where the wisdom of this line really opens up. It doesn’t say “be perfect.” It doesn’t say “only proceed when you’re confident.” It says—“敬之无咎”—if you carry a spirit of respect, of sincerity, then even if your steps are unsure, there’s no harm. Respect here doesn’t mean formal manners or deference to others in a shallow way. It means an inward posture of care. You treat this new space, this moment, this step, as something sacred, or at least something worthy of your full presence. You don’t rush through it. You don’t fake certainty. You show up honestly, and you move with attention.

In practice, this could look like a young teacher entering their first classroom. Their voice might shake, they might fumble their lesson plan, students might look confused. But if the teacher genuinely wants to serve, and carries a quiet respect for the students, for the act of teaching, and for the role they’re stepping into—then that sincerity shines through. The awkwardness doesn’t matter. People can feel when someone is being real, and they respond with unexpected warmth.

Or think of someone starting therapy. The first session is strange. You don’t know where to begin. Words come out tangled, and you may even say things you didn’t quite mean. But if you come into the room with a real intention to face yourself, and you treat the space as something worth respecting—not just a place to vent or fix things quickly—then growth starts to happen, even in the middle of the mess.

The line’s wisdom is quiet but strong: we all stumble. What makes the difference isn’t flawless action, but the energy you bring into the moment. If your mind is scattered or your heart is closed, even the most skilled steps can do harm. But if your heart is open, and you walk with reverence—reverence for the path, for yourself, for the unknown—then even your clumsiest steps become part of the dance.

This is how we enter anything worth doing. Not with the illusion that we already know how to do it, but with the courage to begin, and the humility to be gentle with our early steps. The “敬” in this line is like a quiet lamp in your hand—it doesn’t light the whole path at once, but it’s enough to see the next step. And that’s all you need.