Entropy and Time: Our Naive Fight

Our human race believes that we bring order to a world. An order, a so-called force, that brings structure to an existence that is wholely disorganised in its very nature.

Humans as such are said to be fighting against nature, combatting the frantic, setting nature right, making the world straight.

In this skirmish, that has not yet come to an end, the human race continues to wield its sword that has long since rusted, with wrinkles on its face deep with age and a goat-like dim witted stare on its face. Mother nature, in opposition, has firmly sat down on a lunchbreak, partaking in some scones with strawberry jam and eager for a Pimm’s Cup to wash them down as a treat.

Little does the human race know that the battle is rigged, a Ponzi Scheme tried and true. There are no grandstands filled with audiences cheering. Nor any appreciation or pride to be taken or gained from its skirmish. Loss, only continued loss, by the hand of entropy will result.

Entropy, like the laws of gravity and time, will prevail as it always has. Prevailing in the battle we wage that was never really a battle to begin with. A battle we wage against miconception.

As a thought experiment: if the laws of entropy and time could be conceptualised as a foe, us humans, the self-proclaimed Awakened Ape, would be screaming profanities to our foe. “Let’s rile this foe up as much as we can” the human race would strategise, while on its knees unable to get up and take stance, from the kneel that its forced to take under it’s own sheer size and weight. Our foe, the laws of entropy and time would pity human kind for its naivety, for its unjust and pitiful reasoning and sheer blindness. “How grandiose those humans think they are, why how little they know, how little they actually do have in their control.”

The order that the human race believes is worth fighting for is the antisthesis of the order that entropy produces, as entropy advertantly breaks down the chaos that humans have brought on this world one breath, wrinkle and lunchbreak at a time.

There is no fight.

A 27km New Zealand Bike Ride

Biking from Twizel, Mackenzie Country, New Zealand. The air is so crisp that you say your teeth are somewhat sensitive. Your fingers like little salami sticks pulled out of the freezer. The tips of the thumbs for some reason, more numb than the rest.

Cold, but damn we’re alive!

Keep your eyes on the track. Make sure you don’t end up in the tussock grasses. Look up over there at those snow-topped mountains, but not for too long otherwise you’ll end up with grazed knees! We dont want to get the first aid kit out of the bag now do we?

Keep smiling. The legs are throbbing after that incline you just peddled up. Nearly at Lake Pukaki now.

You haven’t seen the lake nor the Alps for more that ten years. How does it look? How does it compare with how you remembered it? You smile again, the genuine kind of smile. “Amazing, its overwhelming” are the words you use.

By golly, working hard and biking up here made it that much more rewarding!

 

 

 

Her Cashmere Coat

It stuck to her, to her form, in all the ways you wouldn’t expect a cashmere coat doing so. Following the lines that would not usually be followed. Along the shoulder blades and covering the collarbones, the top button fixing tight to her chin.

She looked at me impishly, with the chilled wind blowing through the strands of her fringe. With a posture slightly cowered forward as if she were cuddling a hot water bottle onto her belly while standing.

Turning and leaving footprints in the snow, she left little size seven boot marks.

That was the first memory I have of her, of the one that means the most.

My Queen

My queen sitting on her throne, head down, in a foreign place.

Life can’t be that hard being a queen.

Like all queens before her, stubborn and brave, she dreams

She rules from a distance, behind those ‘bangs’ which fall on her face as yellow drop-down curtains.

With fine lines under her bum, the fingerprints of her thighs. And baby toes so gooey, wriggling when touched.

Light is easy to find in her cloudy eyes.

She learns to see in herself what he sees.

Her festering wounds

She dipped her toes in the water, but ran away after realising it was cold.

Her gasps,

Another idealization of love, leaving her and disappearing,

Still blinded to her own festering wounds.

An art of zen

Becoming zen, more zenned out.

That illusion.

 

No find behind a door waiting to be unlocked.

No elusive shrine that you discover after staring at the ceiling long enough.

 

It’s not an answer.

It’s not a pathway.

It’s not a space.

Nor a trance.

 

It’s nothing but you.

 

The you that your heart beats for.

The you that scratches an itch.

The you that smiles in such a special way.

And the you that forgives you.

The secret moment

When blowing up a balloon, excitement running rampant.

“I can’t wait to play ping-pong with it” she says.

“I’m giving mine to my mother when she picks me up,” another second grader exclaims muttering.

Time goes by blowing, with breathlessness and dizziness defeated by strict perseverance.

Exerted, jaws aching.

Eyes pressurized, like that of the balloons ever expanding.

Both balloons pop.

Faces splashed with its own slobber.

Surprise reflexes immediately all encompassing.

On the verge of tears from freight.

They recollect and acknowledge the other.

They succumb to laughter.

And looking into each others eyes, knowing this is their secret to keep.

 

 

*I would like to acknowledge that the beautiful image is not my own.

The Divine War

And the angels fought, they fought for god.

They fought for the ideals and the pureness they saw within themselves.

They fought for the goodness they sought to water the world with.

The Idea Bank: Safety Deposit Box I

Caffeine seeping into my veins, bringing with it the morning kick-start for the heart. Why am I drinking coffee? I don’t really require a rev up. Coffee fills the stomach, fending away tummy grumbles and the feeling of ’emptiness’. Practicing intermittent fasting does this to you. It continuously leaves you wondering whether you are or aren’t hungry. Is it hunger or just me thinking its hunger?

Today will be filled with contemplation. I will fill today with contemplation. Always too many things to ponder and consider, to keep one step ahead of the rest, one step ahead of myself. The internal battle between the expectations of my life and of life itself raging on. As if I am the clairvoyant of my own life, predicting what lies just past my own line of sight.

My ex-girlfriend arrives back, walking back into my life with complexity. How do you sacrifice yourself for others? How do you allow yourself to wear masks, concealing your intentions from the ones you want to open up to most? How do you endlessly hurt yourself and close yourself off the way that you do?

King Louis XIV, the Sun King, was one emboldened, visionary man. Bending for others but never breaking. To live without judgement of circumstance is the true lesson he had to teach. How does the noblest of kings treat a peasant with the same sincerity and wholeheartedness as he does his courtiers? Did this empathetic nature make him he noblest of kings?

Are trees happier when they sway in the wind as opposed to standing cemented?