I was sitting with my cup of cacao this morning, reflecting on an oracle casting that landed on 33—Retreat—and 53—Development. The words stuck with me: "Success. In what is small, perseverance furthers" for Retreat, and a promise of good fortune through perseverance for Development. It got me thinking about a recent experiment with Agroverse’s social media—and how stepping back often clears the path to move ahead. Let’s dive in.
I’d been testing a new visual style for our Agroverse content on a popular social platform, inspired by a polished video from the New York Times (you can see it here: NYT Antarctica Video). Their aesthetic—clean, serious, understated—felt like a step up from our usual bold, vibrant look. I thought it might attract a new audience or polish our image. The outcome? A rough 60% drop in engagement compared to earlier posts. Yeah, that was a wake-up call.
Looking back, it’s obvious why it didn’t work. The NYT controls their entire space—viewers there are primed for that intellectual, low-key tone. They’re not looking for quick thrills. But on the platform we’re using, it’s a noisy, competitive mess where we’ve got no say over the broader context. For people who aren’t already following us, we’ve got maybe 3 seconds to grab their eye before they move on. And our audience—think new-age thinkers, alternative wellness folks, offbeat theorists—doesn’t mesh with that refined, serious vibe. They connect with energy and color. The stats screamed mismatch, so I’m pulling back—returning to our original style for now.
Context Shapes Everything: From Digital to Physical Products
This misstep got me mulling over context in a bigger way, especially for a project I’m working on: premium dark chocolate bars for Agroverse. We’re designing sleek, minimalist packaging—think Apple Store serenity, all calm and classy. I’m betting this could stand out in upscale, quiet spaces like Napa Valley wineries, where the setting already cues sophistication. But in a busy natural products aisle at somewhere like Whole Foods or Sprouts, surrounded by loud, eye-catching competitors? I’m not so sure. It might fade into the background, just like my social media test. My instinct is to target wineries first as a proving ground—but it’s just a hunch. I’ll need to test it.This approach isn’t new to me. Back at Edmodo, when I was focused on growth, I’d roam around—talking to the team, visiting schools, gathering user insights—and then line up experiments to push conversion rates and adoption. Nine out of ten ideas got dropped. Feels wasteful, doesn’t it? But that’s the nature of it. I’d set up tests to fail fast—run something for a week, scrap it in two if it didn’t land. This was pre-AI days, when everything from coding to design was manual, slow, and grindy. But it taught me the value of quick retreats.
Key observation: Pulling back isn’t losing—it’s learning. Spotting when something doesn’t fit, whether it’s a content style or a market fit, lets you redirect to what might actually grow.
Wrestling with Money and Inherited Values
This connects to a deeper thread I’ve been untangling—money and the clashing beliefs I grew up with. On one side, I was taught money is bad, that wealth equals harm. On the other, it was pure practicality: Does this make money? If not, why waste time? That conflict gnawed at me for years. It surfaced at Disconnect Inc., where we wanted to shield internet privacy but couldn’t monetize without betraying our core—most models meant selling user data. At Edmodo, we built tools for under-resourced teachers, scaling from 10 million to over 100 million users, but struggled to make it sustainable. Half the team thought like a nonprofit in a for-profit setup. I saw our CEO wrestle with those opposing mindsets. Even during the NetDragon acquisition—a down round—they showed grace, personally funding the runway and ensuring employees got some stock option payouts when they didn’t have to.I didn’t reconcile this tension until I read The Chocolate Wars, a book about the Cadbury family (and others like Hershey’s). It explored Quaker philosophy: making money is good if it creates value. Money’s a tool to amplify impact. That clicked, and it was echoed by Simon Leong, former CEO of Microsoft Greater China and later Edmodo chairman. When asked about balancing mission and profit, he said, “More money means we can do more.”
A saint I met at the World Economic Forum, Bhavana, once noted that money struggles are often ancestral. I see it now. The value systems we inherit—especially contradictions—can block our ability to build and share wealth while staying balanced. I’ve witnessed this in a university friend from Russia. Always broke, so I tossed him a big tech consulting contract. He spent the cash in six weeks—money that’d last me 7-8 months—then complained about the work and nearly tanked my client relationship. I finished the job myself, missing his wedding in Russia while fixing the mess. Digging into it, it was his post-Soviet upbringing: a scarcity mindset where wealth gets used up fast before it’s gone or taken. No room for reinvestment.
I saw this scarcity play out again in a past relationship with someone from mainland China. Her background, shaped by a pre-boom communist era, fueled a constant need to spend, with no system to manage resources. I supported her for a time, but clashes over control were inevitable. When I stepped back—ended it—my finances stabilized fast, funding my move to the US. Hard, but necessary.
Retreat as a Form of Care
This idea of retreat as a needed move reminds me of a moment at Edmodo after I left. Simon called two VPs into a meeting. Five minutes later, they were out—performance metrics weren’t there, so they were let go. HR escorted them to pack up. Cold on the surface? Sure. But when you’re stewarding a system, keeping underperformers in critical roles damages the whole. I’m seeing this now with a friend’s startup. They raised significant funds, but a poor hire in a key position has stalled them. Four years on, cash is dwindling, and my friend’s racing to salvage things. Retreat—making tough calls—can be the kindest act for the bigger picture.Reflections for the day: Bad decisions hurt, but ignoring them costs more. The discomfort of correcting course is temporary; the damage of inaction isn’t.
A Radical Shift: Letting Go of Ownership
This leads to a major pivot I made after Edmodo, with GetData Inc. Six years on infrastructure, two more testing monetization. By 2021, out in the desert, I ran the projections. I could keep growing users, maybe raise funds, but churn and the use case limited upside. Market caps in that space sat at $7-8 million after years—essentially a consulting grind, trading time for money. Not my path. Einstein’s quip rang true: expecting different results from the same method is insanity. So I flipped my approach—first principles. Not my idea, not my problem, not my solution, not my resources, not my time. A complete break from before.What’s emerged is fascinating. In ecosystems like TrueSight DAO with Agroverse, people bring their energy, and if ideas catch on, I stay involved. But attachment? That’s a pitfall. When the ecosystem shifts, holding tight stifles adoption and engagement. I’m leaning into anatman (no-self) and shunyata (emptiness) from my Zen monastery days. It’s about flowing, not forcing.
So, what about you? When have you had to step back to leap forward? How do you know when to let go of a plan—or a person—that’s not serving the bigger vision? I’d love to hear your take.
- Personal Growth
- Business Strategy
- Social Media
- Product Development