Hexagram 29: 坎

You've fallen into the pit. Panic won't help; neither will denial. The question is: can you maintain your essential nature while submerged? Water in an abyss is still water—it doesn't become the pit. Programs in the Sea of Simulation don't have to derezz; some find their way back. Here's what this probably means: maintain your core function under adverse conditions. Stay yourself when circumstances pressure you to dissolve. The classical text's emphasis on sincerity isn't moral instruction—it's technical specification. The doubled water hexagram means danger repeated, not danger overcome. You're not climbing out immediately. The pit has depth. Water flows on uninterruptedly and reaches its goal. Not quickly. Not safely. But consistently, following its nature. Software metaphor: your service is down, your data is corrupted, your architecture is fundamentally compromised. You're in the Sea of Simulation—unstructured chaos where normal operations don't apply. Wrong response: thrash around trying to restore the previous state immediately. Right response: identify your essential function (what are you actually trying to do?) and maintain that while you navigate toward stability. Know where you're trying to go even if you can't see the path clearly. Don't try to solve everything at once. Incremental progress through dangerous terrain. Small gains you can actually attain. Rinzler falls into the Sea of Simulation and presumably derezzed—he tried to maintain his false identity (Clu's corrupted program) through conditions that demanded his true nature (Tron, the protector). The abyss doesn't let you maintain false positions. Only your actual core function survives sustained danger. When you're in danger yourself, you learn who you actually are versus who you pretended to be. That knowledge—assuming you survive—makes you useful to others facing similar conditions. Not before the danger. After. Through it.