Hexagram 28: 大過

Something's out of balance. You know it. The structure you've built—project, relationship, system architecture—is heavy in the middle and weak at the edges. It's working, technically. Like Galloping Gertie worked for four months. But the oscillation is visible if you're watching. Here's what this probably means: you're in exceptional conditions. The classical text's counsel isn't about stabilizing what can't be stabilized—it's about moving through dangerous terrain quickly. The bridge engineers' mistake wasn't the design. It was assuming they could make it permanent. If they'd built it as temporary infrastructure, it would have been fine. The pattern appears everywhere: over-engineered core, neglected peripherals. Brilliant central algorithm, terrible error handling. The system works until edge cases start resonating, then catastrophic failure. Or in projects: huge investment in primary feature, minimal attention to deployment, monitoring, maintenance. Four strong lines in the middle, two weak at the ends. Your job right now isn't fixing the edges—it's too late for that if you're already here. Your job is having somewhere to go. Transition through the dangerous structure quickly. Ship the MVP, get it into production, then rebuild properly. The alternative is standing still on Galloping Gertie, hoping the oscillation stops, filming your own disaster. When you know the structure is precarious, each step requires care. This isn't paranoia—it's physics. And sometimes the water goes over your head. Sometimes you don't make it across. If you knew that going in and chose to cross anyway because something mattered more than safety, that's not failure. That's cost accounting. The bridge's replacement, built in 1950, got nicknamed 'Sturdy Gertie.' They used the same tower pedestals and cable anchorages—the foundation was sound. They just had to build the deck properly. Sometimes the core infrastructure is fine; you just need to admit the superstructure can't hold and rebuild it while you still can.