Man, I was in a real bind, not gonna lie. It wasn’t one of those casual coin tosses, you know? This was serious. Everything I had been working on, every late night I’d pulled, it all came down to one thing, one decision, and I needed some serious clarity. I wasn’t looking for a polite suggestion from the universe; I needed a shovel to the face, a proper shake-up.
So, I went for the Big Book, the I Ching. I got out the coins, the three old pennies I always use, the ones that are all tarnished and smooth. I cleared my head. I focused entirely on the question, the really heavy one: Should I push forward with this crazy business idea, or should I tuck tail and go back to the safe, mind-numbing corporate gig that paid the bills but killed my soul? That was the core of it.
I threw the coins the first time. I marked it down. Then the second, and the third. I kept going until I had the whole six lines laid out in front of me. I got Hexagram 33, which is Retreat. Okay, fine, the initial shock wasn’t a total surprise. Maybe I should pull back. Maybe the universe was telling me to be smart, be cautious.
But then I started checking the moving lines. And this is where things went completely sideways. I mean, they went off the rails. Most times you get one or two moving lines, maybe three, and they give you the nuance, the little footnote to the main prediction. That’s how it usually works. It’s subtle.
I looked at the notes. The bottom line? Moving. The second line? Moving. The third, the fourth, the fifth, and the top line? All moving. Six moving lines. I stared at the paper like it was mocking me. I double-checked my totals. Sixes and Nines only, people, that’s what shows the change. And man, I had a full house of changing lines. It wasn’t just a suggestion to retreat; it was a total flip into the absolute opposite.
The Absolute Flip-Out
And then there was the feeling of it, the kind of total system shock that made it feel like a “seventh” line was moving, like the whole book was telling me to throw it in the trash and start over. Six lines changing means the original hexagram transforms completely into its opposite. Hexagram 33 (Retreat) flipped entirely into Hexagram 34 (Great Power or Great Vigor). You can’t get more opposite than that, right?
I’m telling you, I sat there for maybe three hours straight. The book was open, the notes were there, and I just couldn’t process it. My brain was stuck on the initial reading: Retreat. But the actual calculation was screaming: GREAT POWER! It was like asking for advice on driving slow and getting told to floor it and enter the Indy 500. Which one do I listen to? The initial message or the total transformation?
My landlord was breathing down my neck; my savings were looking pathetic. This wasn’t some intellectual parlor game. I had a buddy, old Mike, he kept telling me, “Dude, just go back to the old job. They’re hiring. They’ll take you back. This entrepreneur stuff is a joke.” I was hearing Mike’s voice mixed with the feeling of Hexagram 33, but then I looked at 34, and it felt like a slap that woke me up.
- The initial impulse said pull back.
- The calculation said total transformation must happen.
- The result was Great Power.
I started reading the commentary for the six changing lines. What does it mean when everything moves? It means the starting point is already gone. It means the old reality is completely null and void. You don’t owe anything to the idea of Retreat anymore. The only reality is what is in front of you—the result. The universe wasn’t being subtle; it was burning the boats. There was no going back to the old job because the old me, the one who asked the question in fear, was already dead.
The Messy Aftermath and the Hard Turn
I took the Great Power message, and I ran with it. I completely scrapped the cautious business plan I had drafted. The one that was full of ‘what ifs’ and ‘slow growth.’ I tossed it right into the trash. If the universe wanted Great Power, I was going to give it Great Power.
I rewrote the pitch to the big client I was trying to land. I made it aggressive. I demanded a higher rate. I promised faster results. I stopped apologizing for my prices. I felt sick doing it. It felt totally wrong, like I was over-extending myself, but I kept repeating the hexagram’s name in my head: Great Power. No retreat.
I sent it off, totally convinced I had just blown the whole deal. I figured they’d laugh at the confidence. I figured they’d go with someone safer, someone who pitched a slower retreat model. But a few days later, the email came. They didn’t just accept it; they loved the new direction. They said the confidence was exactly what they were looking for. They even bumped up the initial payment to match my new aggressive pricing.
That “seven-line” feeling, that total chaos, wasn’t a warning about bad luck; it was the Yi making sure I couldn’t rely on my comfort zone anymore. It was demanding a total rebirth. Mike still thinks I’m an idiot for walking away from the stability, but that cubicle farm is still sitting there, and I’m out here actually living, making way more money, and most importantly, not waiting for permission to have Great Power.
