I was sitting in my car this morning, sipping a cup of cacao and staring at the latest Oracle reading on my phone. Hexagram 56, The Wanderer, and Hexagram 20, Contemplation. The words hit me like a quiet nudge—success through smallness, perseverance for the wanderer, and a sense of trust in observation before action. It felt like the universe was whispering directly to the internal wrestling match I’ve been having over Agroverse, my cacao distribution project. For the past two weeks, I’ve been tangled up in a decision—whether to deploy more capital to freight a larger shipment of cacao from our warehouse in Ilheus, Brazil, to San Francisco. And honestly, I’ve been dragging my feet. Let me unpack this, because the Oracle’s draw and my gut are starting to align in ways I didn’t expect.
The Weight of the Wanderer’s Decision
Let’s start with the practical mess I’m in. Three years ago, our first big shipment was 100 kg of cacao, and while it didn’t take long to clear customs, it took a full year to sell it all in the USA. A year to move 100 kg! Since then, I’ve played it safe with small-batch shipping via the Postal Service—low upfront capital, less risk. The Postal Service charges drop to around $8+ per kilogram when we ship up to 25 kg per small batch, which has been manageable. But then came the disruptions: Trump’s tariffs on Brazil, the end of the de minimis tax exemption for small packages, and as of July 2025, the post office just stopped supporting small-batch shipping into the US altogether. Even though the tariff dropped from 50% to 10%, the logistics game changed.I got quotes from freight companies recently, and the numbers are tempting—shipping 200 kg costs about $11 per kilo, 300 kg drops to $8+, 500 kg gets it down to just over $6 per kilo, 750 kg comes in at around $5.50 per kilo, and if I go all in with 1 ton of cacao, it’s slightly less than $5 per kilo. The math screams “scale up,” especially since we’ve 4X’d our gross revenue this year compared to last. But scaling another 4X? That’s the gamble I’ve been chewing on. The upfront capital for 500 kg, let alone a ton, is a big leap from the small-batch approach, and I’m not sure I’ve got clarity on all the variables—demand projections, cash flow, the sheer hassle of logistics. There’s also the flip side—if we somehow land at least one sizable distributor next year, we’ll probably be out of stock sooner than expected, even with a 500 kg shipment coming in from Brazil. It could turn into a mad scramble on the supply side if that happens. My gut keeps saying, “Wait, observe, don’t rush.” And that’s where The Wanderer hexagram comes in—success through smallness, perseverance over haste. It’s like the Oracle is telling me to keep moving, but not to overcommit or get stuck in one place too long.
I’ve lived this way for a while now, both literally and figuratively. I’m a nomad—zero rent, zero utilities, relying on solar panels on my car, government food banks, and iOverlander for water and parking. My only real costs are gas and car maintenance. This minimalist setup lets me pour resources into Agroverse without drowning in personal expenses. It’s smallness by design, and maybe that’s the perseverance the Oracle is pointing to. The current nomad approach to scaling the distribution network feels sustainable and scalable, at least until the next threshold. It’s low-overhead, high-mobility, and lets me test the waters without sinking the ship.
Instincts of a Wanderer: Knowing When to Leave
There’s another layer to The Wanderer that resonates with how I operate. I’ve got this instinct—call it a vibe detector—that tells me when to dip out of a situation. Just yesterday, at a Christmas Eve party with fellow nomads, I was sharing how I always seem to leave right before trouble brews. I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve walked away from a gathering, only to hear later that a fight broke out—a punch thrown at a campfire, a knife drawn at another. It’s not like I’m psychic; I just feel the energy shift. When conversations turn to gossip or ranting, I’m out. I’d rather free up my time for something productive. As The Wanderer suggests, I hang around just long enough to get what I need—whether it’s a connection, a resource, or a vibe check—but never long enough to get caught in the mess. This feels like the approach I need with Agroverse too—move forward, but don’t overstay in risky decisions.Contemplation: Observing the Ground Truth
Then there’s Hexagram 20, Contemplation. It speaks of observing before acting, of trust building through presence. I’ve been spending time among the communities Agroverse touches—nomads, small-scale foodies, sustainability folks—and it’s given me qualitative signals I can’t get from spreadsheets. Being on the ground lets me see how our brand and cacao offerings stack up against others. It’s not just data; it’s stories, reactions, the way people light up (or don’t) when they talk about what we’re building.Here’s a funny observation, though: there’s a huge gap between how I perceive my work and how others do. When I post updates on my blog or social media, the analytics make me think no one cares—low engagement, crickets. But then I’m in these communities, and people introduce me to others with stories about my work. They’ve seen my posts, followed Agroverse’s journey, and call it “badass” or “inspirational.” I’m floored every time. On the ground, I often feel like I’m spinning my wheels, wasting time when I could be doing something “more productive.” But externally? The impact is bigger than I realize. It reminds me of my days at Edmodo, scaling a startup from 10 to 100 million registered users over five years. Internally, it felt like constant doom and gloom—always on the brink of failure or running out of funds. Yet at conventions, teachers and school admins showered the brand with love. In Singapore, we became a benchmark for edtech startups. Internal grind versus external perception—always a chasm.
Reflections for the Day: Small Steps, Big Picture
So where does this leave me with Agroverse and that freight decision? I’m leaning toward scaling up to at least 500 kg—lowering the per-kilo cost to just over $6 feels like a sweet spot while keeping my personal overhead near zero. Heck, the numbers for 750 kg or even a full ton at under $5 per kilo are hard to ignore, but that’s a bigger capital commitment than I’m ready to vibe with just yet—especially with the potential for a supply scramble if a big distributor comes on board. The Wanderer advocates smallness, and Contemplation reminds me to keep observing—talk to more community members, test demand signals, double-check logistics partners. I’ve dodged enough campfires turning into brawls to know that timing matters. I’ll move when the vibe feels right.Key observation: Living lean and staying mobile isn’t just a lifestyle—it’s a business strategy. It lets me take calculated risks without betting the farm. And honestly, there’s something poetic about being a wanderer with cacao as my cargo, weaving through communities, picking up stories and insights along the way.
What about you—how do you balance the grind of a decision with the need to just observe and trust the process? Have you ever felt that gap between how you see your work and how others do? I’d love to hear your take.