The Crushing and Relentless Power of Entropy.

 I never thought that the decline and ultimate failure of an inexpensive hard drive would stir up so many thoughts about how attached I am to physical things, outcomes of day-to-day events, the feeling of needing to be in control and, mostly my attachment to the idea that there is a comforting constancy to my life. 

The reality, at least as I see it, is that everything we have, including our own lives, has a parabola of existence. In the example of lifeforms we are born, we grow, we learn, we thrive and then at some point we reach the top of our arc and begin to participate in the process of entropy. The downward slide from the peak of our potential. 

Here's my favorite simple definition from the Oxford Dictionary: the degree of disorder or uncertainty in a system. 2. a. : the degradation of the matter and energy in the universe to an ultimate state of inert uniformity. Entropy is the general trend of the universe toward death and disorder.

Our own slides toward dissolution can be relatively quick or agonizingly long. At least in context. 

When I realized that I was unable to access the information on one of my hard drives I felt a sense of betrayal. I know that doesn't make a lot of sense but since so few of the hard drives I've used up till now have actually failed (as opposed to just getting "filled up.") I had the illogical presumption that life would go on in the same fashion from now until much later. This started me down the path, yesterday, of assuming that the life and death cycle of all the things I think I depend on might be accelerating. After all, it was just last week that our microwave oven gave up the ghost...

I'm not totally unused to things failing and becoming unusable. The plastic lenses on swim goggles eventually become fogged by chemicals, abrasion and UV light and they eventually become unusable. I have no issue with that. I understand the process and replacing them with new goggles is easy and inexpensive. Shoes are another thing that wears out. And most modern shoes aren't really made to be repaired. When the soles decay beyond a certain point it is time to replace them. Sometimes I feel a twinge of loss when I have to let go of a great pair of hiking shoes but, again, I understood from the beginning that those shoes would have finite useful "life span." 

In the case of this hard drive though I felt a different kind of loss since it was a vessel for my work. Both personal and professional. Logically, I know that if the files are so very important that I can have them recovered and moved to a series of newer and newer hard drives but where does it all end? How does it all end? I was letting the loss of the HD become a metaphor for my life as an artist. The loss of files a symbol for the loss of control over small parts of my own, personal art universe. A harbinger of a coming, accelerating decay toward an end. Had I become that attached to my self generated perception of the value of the work? Had I become the victim of my own identification with what my job and my art represents back to me? It appears so.

As I left the house this morning to go to the swimming pool I said to myself, "Oh Hell, Entropy is going to end up being my word for the day." I was in a quiet and sour mood. I even allowed myself to conjecture that perhaps swimming had no real value beyond being a vainglorious attempt to slow down or control my own physical and mental entropy.

But then I got in the water. I could feel the flow of the swim. As I focused on having as technically perfect a "front catch" as I could my mind started off on its own, processing all the feelings I was having and had over the previous 24 hours. I realized in the moment that I had forgotten the most important concept I learned from studying the life of Buddha. ("Old Path White Clouds" by Thich Hat Hahn). That concept being the value of resisting or rejecting desire. Non-attachment to physical things or outcomes. I had made the files on the drive important even though, in the long, medium and short run, their loss was neither good nor bad. It just was. And all the energy I was putting into battling against their loss was just causing me to be sad. Frustrated. And ineffectual. 

I don't believe in the idea that everything happens for a reason. I think most things are random and chaotic. And physics tells us that entropy is a reality for....everything. We'll all die. All (statistically) hard drives will eventually become dysfunctional. Batteries will run out of energy. Tires will wear out. Our brains will slow down and eventually become less stable. We might be able to slow the process but we joust with an "opponent" that holds all the high cards. 

The best way to "fight" the loss of something is to let it go. But dammit! Why do I still want to show that hard drive who's boss?  Mostly because life on the way up the parabola of my existence has been so easy and fun. Few things go wrong. But now? Will the journey into chaos accelerate? What's next? 

Swim Zen tells me to stop fighting things that are out of my control. Concentrate (be mindful) on doing the right things day to day. Concentrate on having the right thoughts every day. And to let go of the need to hold onto stuff so tightly; as well as the almost compulsive need to try controlling the processes. 

I should have learned by now that you have to loosen up the reins on life if you want to let in a bit of creativity, whimsy and happiness. This might just work out. One way or another I am almost certain that it will. As I've said before, "Happiness is self-inflicted." The same can be said for sadness.

My swim was quite nice.