In the Age of Entrophy (Today’s Daily Work of Art)

Today is a day in which I remind myself art is not the same thing as beauty. I tend to lean much more towards the products of creativity I find aesthetically pleasing and soothing, rather than considering the entire range of responses that could possibly be evoked. I do this, in large part, because I am much more easily disgusted than the average person.

Part of the research on disgust suggests it is an emotional response that evolved from processes we developed to keep us safe from contamination. For this post, I’m defining entrophy as disorder, chaos, destruction and death. Contamination and entrophy (in its physical sense) are connected in that death and chaos increase the risk of viruses, fungi and bacteria being spread.

For my reflection, I decided to take some time to analyze my somatosensory system (ability to feel pain, temperature, pressure, etc.) as well as my sense of smell as it relates to entrophy. I avoided my visual system because the images of things that are unpleasant can haunt me for months and are pretty much unbearable. My misophonia, as it relates to my sense of sound, is strongly tied into my disgust response as well. What, then, is the felt sense of entrophy, and what does it smell like? If you are as easily disgusted or bothered by disorder as I am, you may want to stop reading here!

Disharmonious Feelings

  • Feeling another’s warmth drift from you the moment after an embrace
  • Being bumped into in a crowded public area
  • Missing a step when walking down stairs
  • Dropping a heavy or valuable object
  • Running over a curb while driving
  • Spilling food you’ve just prepared in every direction
  • Trying to concentrate in a stuffy room
  • Opening an umbrella when it is very windy outside
  • Shaking someone’s cold, limp or clammy hand
  • Sitting in the passenger seat of a dirty car

Scents of chaos

  • Body odor combined with perfume/cologne
  • A rotting animal corpse among the flowers on the edge of the road
  • Excessive perfume/cologne in a sterile area (like a doctor’s office)
  • An unidentifiable unpleasant odor
  • The smell of an appliance motor burning out in a kitchen while cooking

This post, especially the part on smell, was extremely hard for me to write and made me feel nauseous. I had to stop after only a few ideas because I felt so grossed out. I recall (at one of my worst jobs ever) getting yelled at by a supervisor in front of coworkers because I’d told someone at the place I worked at that I found a situation to be disgusting. I am unable to do much to mask my “eww” face, even when I want to in order to not have other people feel judged or criticized. I joke with others a lot about how “weak my stomach is” and such to lessen how intensely they perceive my possible responses, but, even after all of these experiences, I am still a bit amazed to realize how visceral my reaction is to simply thinking about situations involving entrophy.

I question to what extent this way of being reflect neurodivergence on my part as I’ve had so many social interactions which indicate others are not all at the same place I am with it. My capacity for disgust clearly limits what I can handle in everyday life and has, at times, led to avoidance behaviors. Part of the reason I’ve socially withdrawn to the extent I have is that I am so sensitive to smells, physical sensations and sounds that it makes it hard for me to be around others, especially in unpredictable situations. Clean, organized, spacious, low-stimuli environments are where I function most effectively, which is why my house appeals to me.

What, for you, does entrophy represent? What situations, in terms of smells and/or your felt sense, remind you of entrophy and/or evoke a disgust response? To what extent are you affected by these types of situations?

Time Enough (In the Cards)

Today’s card invited reflection of how the pace of my life is going. I decided to focus on how I hold my sense of presence and time in situations where others are present. I believe that my experiences here will guide me in finding places where I connect with a felt sense of safety.

I went out to a restaurant with a group of friends last night and noticed a moment pass where I would normally feel like time was “up,” where I’d become impatient and want to leave. After my reflection on having PTSD, I believe this surge of anxiety occurs when, as a result of either internal or external stimuli, I come to view the experience as containing threats from which I want to flee. At dinner, in the moment this would have happened, my internal system instead read “you are safe” and I was enveloped with a wonderful sensation of calm and a near-hallucination of a clock shutting off. What time it was and how much time there was left in the encounter weren’t my most pressing concerns.

In almost every other social setting, I feel as though I am in a race where the goal is to survive until time runs out. Maybe I’m trapped on a level of the simulation or my programming is broken! In all seriousness, the intensity of needing to rush through and have whatever is happening end is overwhelming. I look forward to events much more than I enjoy attending or remembering them.

I do not believe I am able to engage in mindfulness or present-moment awareness in the presence of others for any length of time. As soon as at least one other person is in the same room as me, I lose my connection to my body and my sense of time becomes at least slightly distorted. Every day when I leave my job, I find myself waiting for myself as I leave the building, crawling back into my skin and inhabiting my breath and my rhythm for the first time in hours. Who I am around others is often only a shadow-shell of my true self.

My experience of time is less affected in outdoor spaces, where the elements help me reconnect with my body and remind me of shifts outside of my own reactions to stimuli. If waiting rooms were parks and grocery stores outdoor venues, I would perhaps respond with less rage. Small, confined rooms such as medical offices are especially taxing. I recall a few moments where I felt highly connected to friends; most of them occurred in green spaces with people far and few between.

This reflection has enabled me to note a direct connection between where I am and how intact my perception of time remains. People are not the only variable; fresh air and a luxurious amount of room in which to rest or walk about also play major roles. What factors affect how you perceive time? To what extent is your connection to your body impacted by the presence of other people? In which spaces do you feel safest, where a sense of more than enough time and place are pervasive?