One must have chaos in oneself
and birthing perimenopausal dancing stars (anyone got better theories?)
I must begin by apologising for the delay in posting this week. I lost track of the days. I ran out of hours. I had to accept I couldn’t do it all, and hope I’d be forgiven. Because, as per the theme of the post, I’m in chaos. I have chaos in myself, which is a twisty take on a line from Friedrich Nietzsche’s Thus Spoke Zarathustra. Do you know the line? Here it is underlined in my copy (it’s worth reading the surrounding copy, too):
The line stands apart from the rest of the page - and book, which mostly disparages “Ultimate Man”, or the last man, who is in essence the archetypal passive operator who claims to be superior but ultimately follows the herd and lives rigidly and blindly to false virtue (and virtue signalling). And always for his/her own comfort.
Let’s call him Acedic Dude.
Nietzsche instead champions living in chaos and being willing to risk all for the sake of the enhancement of humanity, thusly producing dancing stars - free thinking aliveness, ideas, art and dynamic new directions in humanity.
I was thinking about this idea when I got into my friend Patty’s car this morning (which she had lent to me so I can better navigate said abject chaos). Stealer’s Wheels early ‘70s hit blasted:
Here I am, stuck in the middle of you. (Clowns to the left of me, jokers to the right).
Indeed. Stuck in the middle of…it all.
Songs can be perfect sometimes. I think it’s because we pay attention to songs. And so they become congruent coincidental-isms more often than they should. (I work to the theory that everything in life is a glorious coincidence; we just pay attention to some more than others.)
But the chaos is different for me this time. I think it’s because I’m starting to understand the necessity of chaos (and of getting stuck in the middle of it all), especially in the current climate. We need more dancing stars, less rigidity, more whimsy, more experimental stabs at something better.
Per the Laws of thermodynamics, right?
Of course physically we are always in chaos, in movement and complexity. The various laws of thermodynamics tell us so. The First Law says nothing is created or destroyed in the vastness of the infinite universe, the boundless field of energy. Instead, energy is always moving and in flux. The Second says closed systems gravitate towards maximum entropy, or disorder (chaos), in order to retain equilibrium. It also states that heat energy will flow from an area of low temperature to an area of high temperature.
So if you’re in a small room with lots of other people you will sweat. Heat from all the bodies is turned to sweat, which is our body’s way of cooling down (retaining equilibrium).
As the sweat absorbs more and more heat, it evaporates from your body, becoming more disordered and transferring heat to the air, which heats up the room. This is both the First and Second Laws in action: No heat is lost; it is merely transferred, and approaches equilibrium with maximum entropy. But - did you notice the caveat?! This occurs ONLY in a isolated or closed system. Like a small room.
But we do not exist in a closed system. We exist in an infinite one and so chaos, theoretically, is not something that stays with us. It moves on. (And time is not linear and so on, so forth.)
I share this because I've been looking (a little) into complexity theory and particularly Indigenous complexity knowledge. (MTK.) And I think it’s helpful to remind ourselves we are part of a complex, infinite unclosed universe. And that if we learn to join it, well, I think the chaos can make more sense and be less overwhelming.
And instead of getting rigid and Ultimate Man-like, we can work with it and birth dancing stars.
Perimenopause and “leaving” might just be about dancing stars?
As I say, I’m in chaos in this minute. It’s in me. And…I think…I’m learning…to love it.
I’m perimenopausal1 and my body is in chaos. I’m sleeping four hours a night. I wake at 4am 💯 “on” 🤪. Sometimes I’m swollen, sometimes I’m emotional, sometimes my legs itch all night, sometimes my arthritis in my hands means I can’t do yoga. Sometimes it fucks with my thyroid. Actually, always. Sometimes I hate living. Everyday is an adventure, I tell you. (Know it? Shall we start a conversation on it? My friend, the naturopath Anthia Koullouros2, and I are even thinking of writing an ebook on it.)
I’m also living in liminality, between coming and going. I’ve packed up my rental, reduced things to two suitcases and I’m floating between friends’ spare rooms. I’m forgetting computer chargers, having to triage emails, unable to get back to people. Here’s a visual:
I’m raw. I’m only just coping.
I’m not sure what is ahead.
The uncanny openness.
All of which has forced me into an uncanny openness. My nervous system is in a chaotic frenzy as my being tries to find equilibrium. Do you know this state? Where you are so tired and vulnerable that you are rendered choiceless (the ultimate freedom!) and you submit to joining the flow of it all. You have to give in. Softness descends, to balance the fractiousness. Chaos is part of this process, the energy is moving.
So you give up on trying to sleep at 4am and join your friends at 5am at the gym. You keep trucking on. You go for a swim in the ocean when you drive past it and realise you have 30 minutes to spare. You notice the silkiness of the water again inflamed skin. You are surreally patient and you smile at the autumnal light. You smile at the stranger in the coffee shop where you’ve sat for two hours prepping for a podcast interview you’d forgotten you had that morning (but the cafe owner has a computer charger that he lends you). And then this stranger turns out to be a terrific human who kisses your hands (see my next post, for paid subscribers…I’ll share a video I did of him).
And you realise perimenopause might also be necessary chaos. Because it accompanies this strange, calming equilibrium that - when we remind ourselves we are not stuck in a closed, permanent, fixed system - might just enable us to produce a bunch of vibrantly dancing planetoids.
BTW: The podcast conversation I almost forgot was with someone I’ve quoted before and who was one of Leonard Cohen’s closest friends. He’s written for 50 years about travel (movement) and stillness and our conversation set something dancing in me. “You are good at movement,” he told me. “You move to be moved. Keep moving.”
Then I got my period. Chaos floweth!
Sarah xx
Oh, have you listened to this week’s Wild chat? This one flowed, TBH. Because my guest, Angela Saini (one of the “World’s Top 50 Thinkers”) has a mind that ranges truly wild. She has a masters from The Department of War Studies at Kings College London; she’s made documentaries on the climate crisis, birdsong (!) and eugenics; her previous books have tackled race science and gender inequality; she founded “Challenging Pseudoscience” as part of London’s Royal Institution and sits on a bunch of other esteemed British and global scientific boards.. and in this WILD episode she smashes the patriarchal idea that patriarchies have always existed; shows how matriarchies tended to be cooler with gender fluidity; and how we ALL have a part to play in keeping the status quo propped up.
I’ve discovered a lot of spell checks and online thesauruses don’t pick up on “perimenopause”. Hmph.
Anthia is my friend who makes the teas I often rave about. They are seriously the best herbs you will happen upon.
It’s ok to embrace chaos but I think it’s usually surrender to chaos we fall into . I’m not very good at order so maybe chaos is the way to go. Certainly food for thought
You wrote this in chaos. Chaos suits you 💗
But I feel ya, it’s exhausting and enthralling all at the same time. I’ve asked myself multiple times this week why do I seek chaos?
Anyway, don’t forget to breathe x