Man, sometimes life just hands you a big ol’ spoonful of “nope,” doesn’t it? That’s exactly how I felt a while back. Everything just felt stuck. Like trying to run in quicksand, only the quicksand was my entire existence. My job felt like a treadmill to nowhere, relationships felt strained, and honestly, even my morning coffee tasted bland. I was pushing, pushing, pushing, and getting absolutely nowhere. It was a proper standstill, a total blockage.
I’d heard whispers about the I Ching, this ancient Chinese book of wisdom. Never really paid it much mind, figured it was all a bit too mystical for a pragmatic guy like me. But when you’re desperate enough, you start looking under rocks you wouldn’t normally touch. So, one evening, after another day of hitting brick walls, I dug out an old, dusty copy someone had given me years ago. Found some coins, too, just a few loose change pieces from my pocket. Sat down, took a deep breath, and tossed those coins. Asked the universe, or whatever was listening, “What the hell is going on, and what should I do?”
I threw the coins six times, carefully marking down the lines. When I finished, I looked at the hexagram it formed. It was number 12. I flipped to the page, and the big bold title jumped out at me: “Stagnation.” My first thought? “You gotta be kidding me. Thanks for stating the obvious, ancient book!” It felt like a punch to the gut, honest. Here I was, looking for a way out, and the darn book just confirmed I was in a bad spot. The description talked about “evil persons not furthering the perseverance of the superior man,” and “the great departing, the small approaching.” Sounded pretty grim, didn’t it?
I sat there for a good long while, just stewing. Stagnation. It implied everything was blocked, things were receding, going downhill. My immediate instinct was to fight it, to redouble my efforts, to push even harder. But then I read it again, slowly. And again. And a different thought started to sneak in. What if it wasn’t a command to despair, but a description of reality, and also a hint on how to navigate it? What if pushing harder was exactly the wrong thing to do?
I thought about what “the great departing” and “the small approaching” might mean in my life. It wasn’t about big, grand victories or bold moves. It was about things shrinking, getting quieter. So, I started to experiment. Instead of forcing conversations that went nowhere, I pulled back. Instead of trying to innovate at work when all my ideas were shot down, I focused on the bare minimum, on maintaining what was already there. I stopped fighting the current, and for the first time in a long time, I just let myself be in the stagnant water.
It wasn’t easy. Every fiber in my being screamed “DO SOMETHING!” But the I Ching message felt almost like a permission slip to stop struggling. To conserve energy. To wait. It felt counter-intuitive, almost lazy. But I figured, what did I have to lose? My old approach wasn’t working anyway.
Here’s what I started doing, slowly, painfully:
- I stopped initiating: Instead of chasing opportunities or people, I waited to be approached. If nothing happened, so be it.
- I focused on my inner world: I started journaling, reading, taking long walks alone. Things that felt small and didn’t require external validation or pushing.
- I accepted the limitations: My job wasn’t going to suddenly become fulfilling. My relationships weren’t going to magically mend themselves overnight. I just accepted things for what they were, without judgment or trying to fix them.
- I conserved my energy: I said “no” to things that would drain me, even if they felt like “opportunities.” I basically hunkered down.
It was like hitting the pause button on my life, but on purpose. And you know what happened? Absolutely nothing, for a while. And that, surprisingly, felt like a relief. The pressure to perform, to succeed, to push against an invisible wall, just eased off. It was like I finally exhaled after holding my breath for months.
Then, after what felt like ages, small things started to happen. Tiny, almost imperceptible shifts. Someone at work, a colleague I barely spoke to, mentioned an internal project that needed a hand, something low-key but interesting. I took it, not expecting much, just seeing it as a way to use my time without pushing. A friend, who I hadn’t heard from in ages, suddenly reached out for a casual coffee. No drama, no big asks. Just a friendly chat.
The I Ching says “the small approaches.” And that’s exactly what it was. Not a floodgate opening, but a trickle. It taught me that stagnation isn’t always permanent. It’s a phase. And during that phase, the best thing you can sometimes do is get out of your own way. Stop pushing square pegs into round holes. Stop trying to make water flow uphill. Retreat, regroup, focus on the small, controllable things, and wait for the natural cycle to turn.
Today, looking back, that period of “stagnation” was probably one of the most important learning experiences of my life. It forced me to slow down, to listen, and to trust that even in a standstill, things are subtly shifting. It taught me patience, big time. And it showed me that sometimes, the most profound action is inaction, creating space for the universe to do its thing when you’ve exhausted your own pushing. It impacts my life today by reminding me not to always force it. To step back. To breathe. To trust the flow, even when it feels like there isn’t any.
