The Day Hexagram 4 Hit Me Like a Brick Wall
Man, I gotta tell you, for years I thought I had Hexagram 4, Měng, or “Youthful Folly,” figured out. Everyone reads it and thinks, “Ah, it’s about being young and needing a teacher.” And yeah, that’s the surface layer. But trust me, you can be pushing fifty, bald, and still fall right into the biggest, dumbest traps of this Hexagram.
I started digging into the I Ching not because I was some spiritual guru, but because I needed answers fast. I was wrestling with a huge life decision back in 2018. I had this great contract gig I hated, and a chance to take a major risk on a new tech platform I was convinced would revolutionize things. I kept casting the oracle, pushing for a “Go/No-Go” sign. I casted it once, got a clear warning about rushing. I ignored it. I cast it again three days later, framing the question differently, but really asking the same damn thing. Still cautionary, still emphasizing the need for structured learning, not leaping.
This is where the major mistake kicks in. The text for Hexagram 4 explicitly warns against this continuous, frivolous questioning. It says, “The oracle will not tell you the same thing twice if you are frivolous.” I wasn’t just frivolous; I was arrogant. I knew my idea was good. I just wanted the universe to give me a high-five before I jumped.
I pushed through. I left the safe job. I dumped a big chunk of my savings—savings I really shouldn’t have risked—into launching this platform. I recruited a small team. I was the teacher, the master strategist, the guy who knew everything. Except I didn’t know squat about the real-world logistics of scaling that specific technology.
The Great Collapse and The Real Lesson
The whole thing imploded six months later. Not a slow fizzle, but a spectacular, painful collapse. I lost the funding. I lost the team. I almost lost my mind trying to claw back the personal investment. The financial hit was devastating. I spent weeks staring at the wall, completely defeated.
It was during this low point, scrubbing old files off my hard drive, that I stumbled back onto my notes from that original I Ching reading. I read Hexagram 4 again, but this time, the words weren’t philosophical suggestions; they were documented facts of my failure.
- I failed to be receptive to instruction (I was the “teacher,” remember?).
- I repeated the question (demanding certainty where only caution was offered).
- I acted rashly, confusing ambition with insight.
I realized the secret wasn’t about teaching the young; it was about the learner’s attitude. The common mistake people make is believing 4 means they need an external expert. No, 4 demands internal discipline. If you go into a reading, or start a new skill, thinking you already possess the core answer, you are the person the Hexagram is warning about.
The Brutal Truth I Had to Swallow
The deep personal connection here? Why I know this specific mistake so well? It cost me my house. Seriously. The collateral damage from that failed startup meant I had to liquidate assets fast. My wife and I, bless her patience, had to move into a tiny rental apartment for two years while I scraped cash together to clear the debts. It wasn’t the economy; it was my sheer refusal to sit down, shut up, and properly understand the rules of the game I was playing.
I remember sitting there in that cramped living room, reviewing the lines of 4, particularly Line Six, which talks about benefiting from curbing the criminal. And I thought: I was the criminal—the one who refused to be corrected. I was the arrogant student who mocked the wisdom he sought.
From that point on, my approach changed entirely. Before I consult the I Ching, or start any major project, I first force myself to articulate what I believe the answer should be. Then, I cast, and I measure the result against my internal bias. If they clash, I don’t recast. I stop. I walk away for a week and re-evaluate the entire foundational belief structure I brought to the table.
If you want to unlock Hexagram 4, you have to master this practice: when the oracle (or the teacher, or the data) gives you an answer you don’t like, don’t ask again. Avoid that knee-jerk reaction. Go and do the hard work of internal correction first. Otherwise, you’re just wasting everyone’s time, especially your own. And trust me, the cost of youthful folly in middle age is steeper than any tuition fee.
That personal lesson, delivered via eviction notice and bankruptcy papers, is the only reason I can talk about the “secrets” of Hexagram 4 today. It wasn’t found in a book; it was earned on the street.
