humans need entropy

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Today we’re going to talk about mice, Karpathy and the planet Venus. Believe me, there is a very strong connection between all of these. We will start backwards, and talk about Venus first.

Venus as An Immortal Super Being

The most impressive poem of the most prominent Romanian poet, Mihai Eminescu, is called Luceafarul. It’s the story of the morning star, Venus, which fell in love with a human earthling. The core of this is the impossibility of living an earthly life while you are basically immortal (the lifespan of the star will outlive any human being). The loneliness of the star and its deep suffering is haunting. I still remember those lines:

From chaos, Lord, I came alive
My thirst to chaos goes

(Din haos Doamne-am aparut / Si m-as intoarce-n haos)

Ok, I see you’re struggling. What does it have to do with you? What’s this nonsense?

Bear with me.

Humans Need Entropy — Or That’s What Karpathy Said

Andrej Karpathy — former OpenAI researcher, Tesla AI director, generally smart human — dropped something equally haunting in a recent interview: humans collapse over time. Not physically (well, that too), but mentally. We become predictable. We revisit the same thoughts, repeat the same phrases, our learning rates decline. Children shock us because they haven’t collapsed yet — they’re still high-entropy systems, unpredictable and fresh. Adults? We’re overfitted to our lives.

His solution? We need entropy. Constantly. Talking to different people, exposing ourselves to new ideas, putting ourselves in situations that don’t fit our comfortable patterns. Without this injection of chaos, we collapse into repetitive loops — the mental equivalent of playing the same three jokes over and over. And here’s the kicker: he was originally talking about AI models that train on their own outputs and become increasingly sterile and repetitive. Then he realized: wait, humans do this too.

The Perfect Mice Colony

In the late 1960s, researcher John B. Calhoun built a mouse utopia. Unlimited food, water, perfect temperature, no predators, ample nesting space. He called it “Universe 25.” Started with 4 pairs of mice and watched what happened. At first, population explosion — exactly as you’d expect. Then something broke.

As the colony hit around 2,200 mice (well below the physical capacity), behavior collapsed. Males became either hyper-aggressive or completely withdrawn. A class of “beautiful ones” emerged — males who only groomed themselves and ate, avoiding all social interaction. Females abandoned their young. Courtship rituals vanished. Despite abundant resources, the colony went extinct. The mice didn’t need more food or space — they needed meaningful challenges, territorial disputes, the entropy of survival. Perfect optimization killed them. And it happened the same in all 25 identical experiments – yes, he did this 25 times.

Putting It All Together: You NEED Chaos In Your Life

Here’s what Eminescu knew, what Calhoun discovered, and what Karpathy articulated: life thrives at the boundary between comfort and chaos. Not in pure chaos — that’s just destruction. Not in pure comfort — that’s the mouse utopia, that’s the collapsed adult repeating the same thoughts. You need both, in constant tension.

Venus suffers because it exists in only one state — eternal, unchanging, comfortable in its immortality. The mice died because they existed in only one state — safe, fed, unchanging. We collapse when we exist in only one state — same routines, same thoughts, same comfortable patterns.

The solution isn’t to abandon comfort entirely. It’s to deliberately inject entropy into your system. Start that weird hobby you’ve been putting off. Move to a country where you don’t speak the language. Learn an instrument at an age when everyone tells you it’s “too late.” These aren’t indulgences — they’re survival mechanisms.

Personal Choices

I started to run at 40 and finished my first marathon at 42. Then ran a 220km ultra-marathon at 45.

I moved to a new country at 48. Packed up, left everything familiar behind, started over.

Then did it again at 53, this time while learning Korean — a language that has almost nothing in common with Romanian or English, forcing my brain into completely new patterns.

Started learning guitar at 50, fumbling through chords like a teenager, building neural pathways that had been dormant for decades.

Each time, people asked why I was making my life harder. They missed the point entirely. I wasn’t making life harder — I was preventing collapse. I was staying alive in the way that matters.

You don’t need to move countries (though it helps). You need to break your patterns regularly. Take a different route to work. Talk to people you normally wouldn’t. Read books from disciplines you know nothing about. Say yes to things that make you slightly uncomfortable. The discomfort isn’t the price you pay — it’s the signal that you’re still growing, still high-entropy, still alive in the way Venus could never be.

The boundary between comfort and chaos — that’s where humans actually live. Step too far into comfort and you’re a beautiful mouse, grooming yourself while the colony dies. Stay in pure chaos and you burn out. The sweet spot is that constant dance, that deliberate injection of unpredictability into otherwise stable systems.


[There’s actually fascinating physics behind why entropy works this way in living systems — how we’re literally thermodynamic engines that require constant energy flow and disorder to maintain order. I break down the actual science in the paid version of this post, because understanding the mechanics makes the whole thing even more compelling. If you want access, subscribe in the form below – you’ll get some goodies too.]

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