Neg-entropy, as the spelling suggests, is the opposite of (or negative) entropy. The natural course of a lifecycle of something living or non-living is to grow then to decay, or a balance of the two processes of order and disorder in tension. Where one sees disorder, there may be satisfaction that comes from putting things back as they were, restoring order, returning things to where they belong, making amends, making things right, making something whole again, completing a circle or a cycle; in short, shalom or salaam — peace that comes from repairing any departure from a state of health or wholeness or holiness.
This photo collage shows dandelions sprouting in the spring sun between two squares of sidewalk (L) and also the neatly mown grounds of an elementary school (R) that shows the high-speed machine’s wheel tracks like rails of a train line. And the direction of the mowing deck angles the grasses one direction for the outbound cut and the other way for the inbound cut. So the pattern of the diagonal mowing path is visible, imposing a geometric symmetry to the green sea of turf. Taken together, the photos point to the way that one can derive pleasure from asserting negentropy; going against the spiraling tendency of entropy.
Years ago, a friend at a Buddhist temple in rural west Japan expressed the simple pleasure from plucking unwanted plants from the gravel yard surrounding the main hall of the temple precincts. Weeding did not demand special skills or botanical knowledge, nor was it physically demanding or high stakes. Rather, the results from one’s exertions could be enjoyed immediately; no “delayed gratification” or abstract principles were involved: simply pluck and then admire the results. In some way, this nonverbal time spent in patient repetition offered a kind of meditation or physical therapy. This, too, could be viewed as a kind of shalom; completing the circle; releasing anything hampering the state of peace and tranquility. In a more public example, the writer David Sedaris has ruminated on his love of clearing roadsides of litter in areas surrounding his town.
Meanwhile on the streets of my city, I’ve gotten into the habit when on foot or sometimes when on bike, to scan the street for recycling litter: cans, plastic or glass bottles, bits of iron and steel (including sharp sources of expensive tire punctures like nails and screws). Less often I’ll also pick up refuse that I can hold onto until reaching a public trash can. This habit is not penance, not religiously inspired do-gooding, nor a mania for neat streets free of flat tire hazards. Instead, it is the pleasure of shalom: putting disorder into order. If I insisted on scouring the ground and adjacent properties for litter and other debris at all hours, perhaps that would qualify as OCD, but imperfectly doing useful work like this for no money (although some recyclables come with a deposit refund to collect) and without expectation for recognition (although sometimes a drive-by commenter shouts “thank you”) is worthwhile as a kind of public donation: saving drivers and bike riders from flats, and saving passers-by from ugliness and the impression of derelict spaces. It is a pragmatic response to the problem of “why do people drop litter.” And it is a simple way to exercise (not just bending and stretching, walking and visually scouting finds) negentropy by restoring order to fragments of disorder in public view. In filling a bag or completing a section of street, there is a visible shalom, something like my Japanese friend described.
So the next time you walk to your destination and have time free to be interrupted by bits of recyclable debris to put into a nearby recycle cart and/or trash to gather up and drop into a nearby garbage can, why not carry an old plastic grocery bag to make the job easier? The result of simply improving the (universal, throw-away, single-use) litter situation may surprise you. Shalom.
