I just had to share this, because running into I Ching Hexagram 39 – Obstruction or Limping – was one of those moments where the universe wasn’t just giving advice, it was actively kicking my butt to make sure I heard it.
The Messy Reality of My Practice
A few months back, I was trying to land this massive contract. My gut said go, my spreadsheets said go, and my ego was screaming, “What are you waiting for, idiot?” So, I pulled out the I Ching manual, tossed the coins (the proper three-coin method, not some app junk), and then I stared at the result: Hexagram 39, moving to 62.
I saw the lines, I read the commentary. The main message of 39 is simple: Retreat. Stop. Seek counsel. Don’t push forward. The mountain is in front of you, and the water is behind it. You’re blocked, so go home. It’s what they call ‘The Obstruction.’
What did I, the smart guy, do? I pushed harder. I thought, “Well, maybe the ‘counsel’ is just my own brain telling me to be strategic, so I’ll try a different angle.” I drafted seven new proposals. I scheduled three extra follow-up calls with the client’s secretary. I stayed up until 3 AM for a week straight trying to brute-force a solution that wasn’t there.
My reality quickly turned into a big mess, just like the Go toolchain comparison in that old tech post I once read. I was trying to use a screwdriver to pound in a nail. The hexagram was telling me to use a hammer, or better yet, to just take a nap and ask a builder for advice later. My initial approach was completely busted.
I learned real fast that 39 isn’t some abstract concept about strategy; it’s a diagnosis of reality. And reality, in my case, was that I was attempting to do business with a company whose CEO had just had a heart attack and whose entire department was being restructured. My perfect proposal was being mailed to an empty office. I was pushing a rock up a hill that had just been flattened by a bulldozer.
Why I Even Bothered with Hexagram 39
I know what you’re thinking. Why was I even flipping coins for a business deal? Because I was desperate. And here’s the personal junk that forced me into that ‘Obstruction’ state in the first place.
Last year, I invested pretty much everything I had into this small-scale manufacturing gig. It was my big escape plan from the corporate rat race. I walked away from a high-paying, comfy, but boring director role. I cashed out some savings I probably shouldn’t have touched.
Everything was going great until my main overseas supplier—the dude I’d done business with for five years—just vanished. Ghosted me. Took my substantial upfront payment and just went dark. No email, no phone, nothing. Within a single month, my ‘escape plan’ turned into a huge financial hole, and I was stuck, broke, and furious at my own stupidity.
I spent three solid months trying to claw that money back or find a replacement. It was an exercise in futility—just like the I Ching 39 description of being stuck between a mountain and water. I couldn’t move forward, and I couldn’t go back because the old director gig was already filled.
I was in the middle of this awful mess, my wife was looking at me like I was a broken toaster, and I couldn’t even afford to take a proper break. So I grabbed that dusty old book, hoping for some magic answer. I got Obstruction. Life was forcing the lesson onto me the hard way.
The Actual Practice (What I Did To Get Unstuck)
It was only after the client’s secretary finally called me back—three weeks later—to say, “Look, we’re not even looking at proposals right now,” that I finally got the message. I was being a stubborn mule.
I slammed the laptop shut, literally. I drove two states over to my old mentor’s house, an old guy who doesn’t even know what a 加速器 is, let alone an I Ching hexagram.
The I Ching told me to retreat and seek counsel. I didn’t interpret it; I just acted it out.
- I shut down all my projects for two weeks. Complete stop.
- I ignored all emails that weren’t urgent.
- I sat on my mentor’s porch for a weekend and just talked through the mess, without asking for a solution, just sharing the situation.
- He just listened, nodded, and then reminded me about the small local market I used to serve before I got greedy and went international.
It wasn’t rocket science. It was just me being a stubborn idiot who needed to stop yelling at the mountain and listen to a quiet old man. The ‘wise counsel’ wasn’t some guru on a mountaintop; it was just a simple conversation with someone I trusted, far from the battlefield. The advice was about refocusing on what was small, local, and manageable—exactly the opposite of what I was trying to force.
The Hexagram 39 was not a warning of permanent failure; it was an instruction manual. Stop moving. Turn around. Get help. I finally realized the “true message” wasn’t buried in the text; it was the fact that I had to physically put myself in the position of a man seeking counsel. Once I stopped pushing, the solution was glaringly obvious.
That big contract I wanted? It eventually went to someone else, but honestly, they’re still struggling with that company’s internal chaos. Meanwhile, my little local gig is now humming along just fine. Funny thing is, that director gig I walked away from? Yeah, they’ve still got the job listing open, salary climbing every few months. Goes to show you that sometimes the biggest obstruction is your own inability to just pause and ask for directions.
