8 Powerful Chinese Names from the I Ching: Philosophy in a Single Character

In 1735, a young Manchu prince ascended to the throne of China and chose an unusual name for his reign: Qianlong. The word itself was ancient, drawn from a text nearly three thousand years old—the I Ching, or Book of Changes. Qian means heaven, the creative force that begins everything. Long means prosperity and flourishing. Together, they declared his ambition: to rule under heaven's mandate with enduring greatness.

This wasn't just imperial fancy. For centuries, Chinese parents, poets, and politicians have turned to the I Ching when naming their children. The book's sixty-four hexagrams—abstract symbols built from broken and unbroken lines—contain words that carry entire philosophies within a single character.

Consider Chiang Kai-shek, the leader who governed China through its war with Japan. His name, Jieshi (介石), came from a single line of the I Ching: "Firm as a rock, not indulging in pleasure all day—this brings good fortune." Or Tao Yuanming, the poet who defined China's ideal of the reclusive scholar. His name meant "deep and bright," drawn from the image of a dragon lurking in deep waters, waiting for the right moment to rise.

These aren't random choices. A name drawn from the I Ching carries a philosophy, a destiny, a way of being in the world. In this article, I'll walk you through eight of the most meaningful names from this ancient text—names that have shaped emperors, leaders, and thinkers for millennia.

Names of Creation and Power

The I Ching begins with the most fundamental force in the universe: heaven itself.

Qian (乾) literally means "heaven" or "sky," but in the I Ching it represents something more specific—the creative, active, masculine principle that initiates all things. The first hexagram of the book is entirely composed of unbroken yang lines, symbolizing pure, undivided creative energy. The text describes it as "vigorous and ceaseless," the force that "benefits the steadfast."

When the Qianlong Emperor chose his reign name, he was claiming this energy for himself. He wanted to be seen not just as a ruler, but as a creative force—a bringer of new beginnings. The character appears in many compound names: Qianlong (乾隆, "heavenly prosperity"), Qianjun (千军, "heavenly army"), or simply Qian as a standalone name.

If you're drawn to Qian, you're probably someone who initiates rather than follows. You value clarity, directness, and the courage to start something new. Historically, this name has been favored by scholars, reformers, and yes—emperors who saw themselves as agents of change.

But there's another side to the creative force, one that's equally important but far less celebrated: the power of not acting. This brings us to Qian (潜)—a different character with the same pronunciation, meaning "to hide" or "to lie concealed."

In the I Ching, the very first line of the Qian hexagram describes "the hidden dragon." The dragon is the symbol of ultimate power in Chinese culture, but here it's underwater, invisible, gathering strength. The text is explicit: "The hidden dragon does not act." This isn't weakness—it's strategic patience.

Tao Yuanming understood this. Late in his life, he changed his name to Tao Qian (陶潜), identifying himself with this hidden dragon. He had watched one dynasty fall and another rise, and he wanted nothing to do with either. His name became a declaration: I am waiting. I am preparing. I will not waste my energy on meaningless display.

The novelist Long Yi (龙一), author of the novel that became the hit TV series Lurk, took his pen name from the same line. In an interview, he explained: "'The hidden dragon does not act'—translated into modern terms, it means keep your head down and don't make rash moves. That's my rule for life."

If Qian (乾) is the leader who steps forward, Qian (潜) is the wise person who knows when to step back. Both names carry power, but of very different kinds.

The Ground That Holds Everything

Where the first hexagram represents heaven—active, creative, yang—the second represents its opposite: earth. Passive, receptive, yin. Yet the I Ching is clear that neither is superior. They need each other.

Kun (坤) means earth, the ground beneath our feet, the substance that holds everything up without calling attention to itself. While Qian initiates, Kun completes. While Qian creates form, Kun gives it substance. The text describes Kun as "vast and receptive," carrying all things without exhaustion.

This name carries a particular resonance in Chinese culture because of what it represents: the feminine principle, the mother, the one who nurtures and sustains. In a society that has historically valued masculine achievement, Kun represents something equally essential but often undervalued—the quiet work of holding things together.

Kun appears in names like Kunlun (昆仑, a mythical mountain range), Kunyu (坤玉, "earthly jade"), or simply Kun as a standalone name. It's less common than Qian as a personal name, perhaps because its virtues—patience, endurance, quiet support—are harder to celebrate in a public way.

But if you value these qualities, if you see yourself as someone who provides stability for others, who creates space for things to grow, Kun might be the right choice. It's a name for the person who understands that not all power needs to be visible.

Names of Enduring Success

There's a particular kind of success that the I Ching celebrates—not the flash of sudden victory, but the steady accumulation of good fortune over time. Two names capture this ideal: Tai and Heng.

Tai (泰) appears in the eleventh hexagram, one of the most auspicious in the entire book. The hexagram's image is heaven below and earth above—an arrangement that seems backwards until you understand what it represents. In the normal order, heaven is above and earth below. But in Tai, they've exchanged places. Heaven has descended to mingle with earth; earth has risen to meet heaven. The result is harmony, flow, the removal of obstacles.

The character itself combines "big" (大) with "water" or "smooth" (氺/水), suggesting something vast and unimpeded. The hexagram's judgment is clear: "The small departs, the great approaches. Good fortune. Success."

This is the name you choose when you want smooth progress, when you value harmony over conflict, when you're building something that needs to last. It's appeared in reign names (the Taiping Emperor), place names, and personal names for centuries. If Qian represents the force that breaks through obstacles, Tai represents the state where obstacles simply don't arise.

Heng (恒) carries a different but related meaning: perseverance, constancy, the ability to endure. The thirty-second hexagram shows thunder above and wind below—two forces that never cease, that continue day after day without exhaustion. The text emphasizes that this constancy brings success, but not through rigidity. True endurance, the I Ching teaches, requires flexibility within stability.

The character combines "heart" (心) with "every day" or "permanent" (亘), suggesting something maintained with consistent attention over time. It's the difference between a flash of inspiration and a lifelong practice, between a moment of courage and the daily discipline of showing up.

Heng appears in the classic phrase "hengxin" (恒心), meaning perseverance or constancy of purpose. As a personal name, it suggests someone reliable, someone who can be counted on not just in moments of crisis but in the long stretch of ordinary time.

The Virtue Names

Not all I Ching names are about power or success. Some are about character—the kind of person you choose to be.

Qian (谦)—another homophone, this time meaning "modesty" or "humility"—comes from the fifteenth hexagram, and it's unique in the entire book. While other hexagrams contain mixed fortunes, with some lines auspicious and others warning of danger, the Qian hexagram is the only one where all six lines are favorable. Humility, the I Ching suggests, is the one virtue that never leads you wrong.

The hexagram shows earth below and mountain above—a mountain that has descended to the level of the earth. The image is of greatness that doesn't assert itself, of height that doesn't look down on others. The text promises: "The modest person, when crossing a river, will succeed."

This name has been favored by scholars and officials who wanted to signal their self-awareness, their refusal to be puffed up by position or success. In a culture that deeply valued humility as a virtue, Qian was a way of declaring your intentions: I will not let success change who I am.

Yu (豫) is more complex. The sixteenth hexagram shows thunder emerging from the earth, and the character combines "elephant" (象) with "to give" or "to prepare" (予). The basic meaning is preparation, readiness, getting ready in advance. But it also carries connotations of pleasure, satisfaction, the contentment that comes from being properly prepared.

The text warns that this state is dangerous if it leads to complacency. "Firm as a rock, not indulging in pleasure all day—this brings good fortune." This is the line that gave Chiang Kai-shek his name, Jieshi (介石), meaning "firm as a rock." He took the warning to heart: be prepared, but don't get comfortable. Enjoy the satisfaction of readiness, but don't let it make you lazy.

Yu is a name for the person who plans ahead, who thinks in terms of seasons and cycles, who knows that today's success depends on yesterday's preparation. It's less dramatic than Qian, less harmonious than Tai, but in its own way equally powerful.

A Name Is a Philosophy

The I Ching offers one more name that deserves mention, even if it's too common to be distinctive on its own. Ming (明) means "bright" or "clear" or "enlightened"—the quality of seeing things as they are.

Tao Yuanming's given name included this character: Yuanming (渊明), "deep and bright." The image is of clear water that reveals what lies at the bottom, or of light that penetrates darkness. In the I Ching, it appears in the image of the "flying dragon"—the moment when hidden potential becomes visible achievement.

But ming is perhaps too common to make a distinctive personal name on its own. It appears in hundreds of compound names: Mingzhe (明哲, "wise and enlightened"), Mingxuan (明轩, "bright pavilion"), Deming (德明, "virtuous and clear"). Its virtue—clarity, insight, the ability to see through confusion—is universally valued but rarely distinctive.

Still, it makes a fitting conclusion to our exploration. Because in the end, what all these names share is a kind of clarity. Each one crystallizes a particular way of being in the world: the creative force of Qian, the patient waiting of the hidden dragon, the supportive endurance of Kun, the harmonious flow of Tai, the steady perseverance of Heng, the protective modesty of Qian, the prepared readiness of Yu.

A name from the I Ching is not just a label. It's a philosophy you carry with you, a reminder of the kind of person you're trying to become. The text has been read and consulted for nearly three thousand years, and for good reason. It doesn't tell you what will happen. It tells you how to meet whatever happens—with the right disposition, the right preparation, the right name.