What is Entropy?

thoughts on human intuition

JAN 18, 2025

An effect of tuning out, or face all that of which you avoid. What is ENTROPY?

Entropy is a measure of how much randomness, disorganization or disorder is within a system. It can also be defined as the amount of thermal energy in a system that is notavailable to be used for work. The second law of thermodynamics states that entropy either increases or stays the same, but can never decrease. In computer science, differential entropy measures how uncertain or random a continuous random variable is. When something becomes less disordered, it has negative entropy, which requires energy input; this doesn’t happen spontaneously. Something that is lacking order or gradually losing order is described as entropic. For example, a messy room might have more entropy than a clean room.

I suppose this is why I write. To let go of what I have not said, or withheld of myself. To negate my entropy. The entropy that is within the walls of my head.

When I began to navigate through these darkened halls and lucid dreams I found myself in places of discontent, of place I felt I didn’t belong, of place that were so theorized over, so categorized into tiny little boxes; I wanted to scream, sometimes I still do. When the mind becomes a messy room, it is full of entropy. So what happens when we let it all go? What happens when the entropy of a mind becomes organized?

It is not easy, to be so full of life in this world. My philosophies are strange. I am just figuring them out.

There were times in my life where I chose to drown out the chaos with external substance, mostly because I didn’t understand. The other day I spilled a glass of wine on my keyboard. Now, all the keys feel different, like they’re all stuck and like there’s a layer of red wine underneath it all. How silly. Luckily, I was able to absorb most of the damage, but I am left with sticky keys and a corner of my screen that is a little discolored. I don’t really know why things happen sometimes or where my decisions will lead me always. Sometimes I let my paranoid thoughts or racing feelings get the best of me. Constantly, I have to ask myself, what is this teaching me?

I am a healer, I often take on challenging emotions and not all of them are mine. I am sometimes annoyed with the city and how fast it moves. I am annoyed with people, humanity, and how challenging it is just to fucking exist in a place like this. Our society runs on the physicality of existence, something that is in reality, more of a hologram than anything. And it is nauseating to try and pretend like I don’t know that I am living amongst unpredictable energy fields at all times. There are so many theories of life and I am open to them all, but trying to live within this falsity of existence does not satisfy me. I am annoyed with these people and these things and their empires and infrastructures. I sometimes fantasize in the image of seeing it all burn to the ground. It is all fleeting anyway, but that doesn’t help anyone. All it does is refuse to confront the issue at hand, where places need energy, where places need the input of positive desire, the places we ignore, the places we refuse to confront.

The way that these buttons feel beneath my fingertips is strange. Maybe it is a mirror unto myself, because I know there are layers to existence, and sometimes they become sticky, sometimes all you can do is accept the pain of what happened and move on. I know that this laptop doesn’t really exist, none of this does, so it doesn’t bother me much anymore as I’ve grown to accept this mistake.

It’s all a creation of our minds. A projection. A hologram. Hear me. See me.

Become me.

What happens when you clean the room? Does it not become less entropic, or is the energy still there, just waiting to be put into something else?

I recently saw a headline that said something like ‘we all write the same’ which couldn’t be farther from the truth. If you were to read that essay and read another that, let’s say, took heavy inspiration from said essay, there would be at least some very noticeable differences because of the simple fact that we all have different brains on our heads and news flash, no body has your thoughts, you are your own person. Unless you’re plagiarizing of course. No shame to whoever said that, but honestly if you think everyone is writing the same you are either so self-indulged that you can’t see past your own projection, or everyone is talking about the same things, i.e. sex and the city, being a girl blogger, having a vagina, having sex, wearing clothes, hating on culture, fashion, etc. . . which makes them feel similar in many ways. So my advice: FIND SOMETHING ELSE TO WRITE ABOUT !!!!! This genre of word is so boring to me. I don’t read these essays often because they are so fucking boring. This movement of cultural disdain and pity of circumstance makes me want to peel off my fucking skin. And my old psychiatrist would tell me this just a ‘symptom’ of my ‘disorder’. That the desire to peel off my skin comes from anxiety and depression, maybe even the neurodivergence I have within the walls of my head, maybe my bipolar attitude that follows me everywhere. I sometimes write about my own self loathing, but to be fair, I can write about whatever I see best fit in the moment. I have this freedom, and so do you, why not challenge yourself?

And what makes my essay better? What makes it so that you should read my essay instead of these other ones that are all talking about the same things? I guess I don’t care, do what you want, say what you want, judge me if you want, indulge in me if you want, I’m a fucking weirdo, that you should at least know for certain.

I was working a summer job a few years ago, and I was working a very busy day with my coworker on bar making drink after drink after drink to a shit ton of rich white folk, not that that really matters. We were delirious, I don’t think I had eaten anything that day and I know for sure that I was running off a high from cigarettes, caffeine and adderall. Fun! I think it had slowed down for a bit, or we had a lull or something and I just turned to her and said in this wacky voice ‘I want to peel my skin off like an orange, so it hurts’ like peeling your skin off in any format doesn’t hurt! But we started laughing and crying laughing and it was great, I hold that moment in my good log of working-in-food-service-industry-memories. And, I’ve used that line quite a bit just because I think it’s weird and funny and I don’t know too many people who would agree with me or even laugh at the sentence. They’d probably just think to themselves of my disordered mind scape.

When I was nineteen, I was diagnosed with ADD/ADHD (I know the two are different, I don’t remember which one I was diagnosed with). After that I was promptly given a variety of pills to try and soothe some of the things I was dealing with. Before then, I had actually taken a few different forms of adderall from friends who were taking it, so I knew I liked it, I was already addicted. And it’s sad! So sad! So sad because we give this shit to children! And so sad that we continue to give it to adults and people who refuse to deal with the deeper issues. A refusal to confront the disordered mind, a refusal to work with the energy. When I was a child, I would have full on anxiety attacks because my socks felt weird, and my skin would itch everywhere and I would quite literally, if I had the words to say it back them, wish that I could peel it all off and rid myself of this fucking meat sack. I had other weird quirks too, like eye contact was a hard thing for me to understand, speaking to other people in general was challenging for me to get the hang of, and sometimes I still struggle. I also struggled and sometimes still deal with heavy bouts of depression and anxiety, but those things I have learned how to tame, to some degree anyway. The truth of this experience lies in the fact that my mother never wanted to medicate any degree of my disorder, and I respect her for it, but the guilt I carry unto myself for taking anything is immense. And I wish it weren’t so sometimes, but at least the head I have is mine, unowned by any pharmaceutical company. At least not anymore.

I’m not sure this even matters, what you might use to cope with the vanity of existence. I learned a great many things from the time I spent taking pharmaceutical drugs. I learned healthy ways of coping, and for a while it was good. But I still felt the guilt. And I knew this guilt wasn’t me or mine, but my decision to be rid of this accompanied the decision I made to stop taking these. And I’m not saying that you should too, by all means if a pill is the barrier you have to cross to avoid insanity, then take the pill. The pills I take are simply in different forms, and I control them. I do not let them control me. All I want to say is that these things are meant to teach us, nothing more. The entropic mind becomes an inverse of itself when it finds its sanity.

I’ve been watching a lot of romantic comedies recently. And by recently I mean the past couple of days for me have consisted of binging anything I find remotely appealing. So tragically hypocritical, I know. But it got me thinking. Maybe it’s the season, or the romanticized images of love I’ve been consuming, but something inside of me has changed, like a blind man who realized he could see all along, what it means to feel internally free. Sometimes my mind traces back to years ago; living in my ex-partner's house, dying inside, trying to make it as a starving artist, without realizing what it means, what you have to sell your soul for. I was unemployed, being abused constantly, and I mean I really, really wanted to die. I left that place and moved into my parent’s barn. It was within those walls where I realized what it feels like to be homeless. I know I wasn’t really, I didn’t get lost on the streets or get hooked on some form of hard-drug, but I felt it. And my god, was that a horrible feeling. You convince yourself you’re unnecessary, unwanted, like garbage waiting to be thrown into a morgue. It’s so sad, really. Eventually, I got back on my feet, got a job, started working again, reshaped my boundaries to a somewhat reasonable degree, and started to see myself, to love myself. I started writing again, doing things I love, like painting and hiking, playing music. But anyway, what really matters through all that pain and suffering is that I grew into a pretty strong and reliable person. And I see myself that way now. I used to be so enthralled by my darkness I didn’t realize there was a way out. When I realized the way, that which is my path and my way of being, I began to slowly inch myself towards the vision, and well, here I am.

Finding this wasn’t easy though. It took many months, many years, of letting out repressed emotions and baggage and all that jazz, organizing some of the chaos, burning away at some of the seams, and I finally got to this point of knowing myself and knowing who I am, what I want to do, how I want to be. And then I just started being. It was like magic, it is magic. But the thing is, we are never fully complete, there will always be this entropy inside of me, the parts that were at one point a chaotic random masterpiece, the parts that still linger there. It’s just that now, I’ve been able to wash some of it, turn it into something new, and finding myself through this journey is something I will always come back to. Finding the self is an unfoldment of a lifetime. It is not an instance, it is a decision and a journey.

I love existing. Grounding, loving the earth, new earth.

My mind goes on about scanning temples through this metro tunnel of a lucid dream. I see them pretending. Where I am mindful of my absorption and osmosis, the psychic energy that heals one’s body. And this has no place amidst futile roles of society. Protesting corporations that pirate off of psychic energy, youth, sickness. Math and numbers are the language of the universe.

When you account that learning comes more often from failure than from success, a pattern emerges, it becomes challenging to actually succeed. I could look back at my life and think about all the mistakes I made and I could dwell on them but that would be counterintuitive. Sometimes it is easier to let it go, and sometimes things stick. And when they do, take pride in knowing them, feeling them, accepting them. They’re sticky for a reason. This entropy within them seems almost to be begging for a transformation. Give to it, see what happens.

I have chosen to move forward with the knowledge I have gained from my past experiences in this new light, a new earth. I no longer seek to be understood, that is a waste of time. I seek to grow and to heal, and to find my own community. I can change my mindset, attitude and reactions towards many things. Living has never been easy, but I have built myself a strong moral ground to stand upon and I cannot let that be stripped of my being. It does not matter where I live or where I go, I will always known home, I will always know these roots. I have felt you calling out for me, for a long time.

It is an interesting thing, to be aware of the home within, an internal temple, completely comfortable in any situation, mind the circumstance. In this way, I have already found my home, so I might seek the community I need, the support I deserve and a level of recognition to the work I am doing, but I do not seek fame or fortune, only truth and love. There is no love without truth and there is no truth without love.

I have been hurt many times, each time I get back up a stronger person. As I have had to understand what a healthy relationship means on my own terms, that of which my parents could not teach to me, no less than my grand parents could to them; I’ve realized there is no blame to be had for any of these happenings, but that I used to carry around this figment of an ideology. A “curse” on my back, something I labeled unto myself from the beginning. I have let this go, somewhere along the road back to where I live now. And I have in turn, taught my parents what I have learned, and together, we have healed our roots, or at the very least, we have begun to. I am lighter than before, carrying only the weight of myself. I am working for and loading this collective weight of humanity. I do not know where my life will take me, but I do know that I am well on my way to becoming who I am meant to be. What this universe has asked of me. I know that there is a purpose for me in this life now, and I know that I will do whatever it takes to get there. I want to do good things for humanity as we mature and evolve as a collective whole. So where has this entropy gone? If I am lighter, if I am more free, if I am no longer disorganized or disordered? Maybe I still am, or I have allowed this to transform into something new, something ordered.

The state of the world might not be pretty now. There always seems to be so much going on, but I have a vision for new life. I believe in this vision and I want to see it happen. The goals I have for myself are undoubtedly similar to that of my vision. Authenticity is a birthright, not a curse. I want to be able to freely express myself and encourage this to inspire others to do the same; we should be expanding the spirit of creativity, not trying to divide it with jealousy or competition. Something I was rather appalled by during my attendance in a private art school: there is no real spirit of creativity there, just a facade of what was.

I do not really believe capitalism is a good thing. There is potential for greatness in all things, but our society has turned to mush and I think a raging consumerism, a blindedness to realness and deep manipulation are the roots to this mush. I also believe there is something out there just waiting to be pulled on and grounded to stabilize the nation and generate real peace, not just control and order. The entropy of our nation begs for this, but when it becomes controllable and ordered, does it then become our doom? There will always be some level of chaos, that is what creation is, but there must be destruction too, and if we do not destroy and transform what is hurting, we will be forced to watch mother earth do it to us. This is a pivotal point in time. We can no longer avoid this essential truth. We are all aware of the chaos, it is internal and reflected external, it is in plain sight. A change in wake must be made. I am to support this change with all my life. That is why I am here, now.

So what do you do when everything goes to shit?

I used to sit around and sulk, sometimes for days or weeks on end, without giving myself any room to breathe. Indulging in the melancholy of my longing simply because eu tenho saudade de você. And I might have changed, I may have transformed some of my darkness, this is still true. I might not sulk around anymore, but the melancholy lingers on, and it is different now. It inspires me now, it brings me to write like this and I love it for channeling me unto my greatness. Is this righteousness? I do my best to slow down when I know I need to, but this culture is so rapid, so rapidly moving, all the more challenging. I’ve learned to give myself breaks when I need to, recognizing when I start to see myself getting overwhelmed with the world. And I am comfortable in my skin, somehow I’ve found comfort here, somehow, amidst all the chaos, I have found my home. I don’t want to die anymore. And it’s a weird feeling to have. Coming from being so comfortable with the idea of death and hating my skin and then realizing that, wait, I am allowed to enjoy existing, and being here and now, and seeing all the romantic things in the world. In a lot of ways, I think I have finally acknowledged the importance of self love. And I have grown to love the chaotic world that we live in, or maybe this is what they say is the Kingdom of Heaven. And the truth is, there’s nothing more important than love.

Our society, is strange. Sometimes it makes no sense to me. But the way the universe acts within it, is pure magic. There is magic all around us. I just think that so many people are too distracted to be able to sit for a moment and notice it. And every act of the universe, makes perfect sense. When you begin to understand the flow, and the rhythm of your own song, it begins to orchestrate in this magically symphonic and synchronic way that echoes the beacon of angels, the chimes of the golden city.

I used to get so disappointed by crazy people or saddened by how distracted people were and distraught at the refusal they made to neglect their hearts. I think I pity them because I used to be like that, so I understand. That mind-frame, or the boxes our society labels us with, is challenging to break away from and sometimes it tries to suck me back. But I don’t fit in there anymore, Like a sapling that can no longer be underground, my roots are not firm in the dirt I have found. All the consumerism propagandic ploys, amidst the capitalist empire that operates in a very chaotically organized way, lead nowhere, except a hole of despair. The crippling essence of a potential dystopian society.

And I have no idea where we are going. But I do know that, I’ve slowed down. I’ve become patient with myself and thereafter the universe. I’ve grown to love all the things I used to hate about myself and the world, and I’ve begun to heal all of my deeper wounds. One might say that I have inched ever so close to my place in the world that I seem to have found it.

And I’m a little nervous, slightly terrified, but also so excited and ready for my life. I just hope that as I slow down in this world, I might find a few hands to hold. That we might walk together.

Sometimes it’s challenging to know when something is really intuition, or just an anxious thought of the mind. Let’s take for example, dragonflies, obviously from some kind of magical realm, some dimension of beautiful realities that we just can’t see, or choose not to see. And it’s clear that, when you take a really good look at something of the like, something that is made by God, you can notice the little hints of divinity. You can feel it in your spine, your heart. There’s just something more happening. I also love that about cats, and how they’re so spiritually inclined to touch the divine. For the most part, they don’t know the world they live in. And that’s okay, they don’t need to.

In Sunday school I learned that emotions, or states of being like lonesomeness, and depression, are some of the seven deadly sins. In psychology, they are often treated as illnesses, and addressed accordingly, trying to name the problem in the brain. In many places around the world, these states of being are accustomed to demons or vampires. In general, any kind of negative emotion is returned with the same, if not greater negative emotion. I think a lot of psychological and religious pursuits in our modern affairs, although advancing rapidly, are at times misguided or just plainly avoiding the root cause of a variety of issues.

I have questioned myself at times of disorder or chaos; like why did I go to college, or why did I think I should become a painter, and those are easy answers: I went to college because I thought I wanted to be an artist and paint for the world and the likes of those around me. And I thought I should become a painter because that’s what everyone wanted me to do or told me I should do. Was it because I conformed to this imagery of what an artist should look like? Because I fit the character? Because I drew one miraculous drawing as a 3-year-old child and from that day onward I was deemed as the artist in the family. It never felt right though, this appraisal, something inside of me started turning one day, and eventually I found my whole being, my whole world was turned upside down. Like someone had just picked up the dollhouse and threw it to the wall.

In my heart, I am a poet, a storyteller. And that is what I do.

So, when you are an artist of sorts, writer, a dreamer, a philosopher, a thinker, a rememberer, an observer, a healer, a listener like myself. . . I think sometimes it’s hard to feel needed. To feel like you have room to say anything, space in this world, to feel like you have valuable information to share. And that is totally valid because there are so many people in the world.

But the truth is: There is not one, single, person that is exactly like you.

You are that one single person. Uniquely you. Everything about you is unique and there is no other who can match that. It’s so crucially important to be gentle with yourself, as you move through the phases. Everyone moves through the healing process differently, and it is no shame to do it in your own way. It’s okay to be a little unapologetic, and trust me, if you find peace in something, and your spine tingles a little when you think about that kind of peace, it’s definitely the right kind of peace.

We have so much power inside of us, our human willingness to survive should just be proof enough. Yet, so many of us are still so blinded by the evil empire that is this great story. If you take a second to look around, you might notice the sad faces. I certainly do. And I want to do something for them, as I have done for myself. I think everyone stands a chance to follow their heart and be their unique self. Just like you, my purpose is here, within my heart, just as it was from the moment I was born and took my first breath, to right now, although it might be a little dusty from all those years of chasing something I knew I didn’t really want. This passion and purpose, my own personal brand of lust for life, will stay with me until I reach my death bed.

I’ve found my place, and my role in society. And that place is here, just being here and now, writing these words, filling the pages, feeling the boost of consciousness rise up my spine as I do so because I know in my heart this is right. And maybe, just maybe my story will reach, you.

I often live by this phrase of Existence is Art. In which I mean breathing, walking, speaking, just existing is a form of art. Or holds within it, a pureness of creation. And so, everyone creates, and in a lot of ways, everything is art. I sometimes find the synchronicities of life to be silly and ironic because the universe has this glorious sense of humor and I really love the way it speaks to me. It just gets me. Or maybe I am beginning to finally understand it.

The relationship that we choose to form with ourself is the most important relationship of all. The entropy we might find within our minds, our lives, our beings, is uncanny to the natures of the world. Sometimes it is frightening to know that we are divine, creations of God. But this is nothing to fear, where fear is a power that needs to be taken reign. I offer you my peace, an agreement that I will choose to use my entropy in ways that fuel my life, this life, our life. I offer you my love. There is space for us all to live with harmony. There is a reason we are disordered and chaotic and messy. The universe calls us to take the small strides, to make the decision every day, to live our lives.

I trust you. Minha musa, minha canção.