Yetzer hara and Entropy

The sad paradox of the human mind is that, despite the fact that its nature is Light, it far more often turns out to be a source of darkness. The Traditions call the reason for this paradox “the striving toward evil,” Yetzer hara ( יֵצֶר הָרַע), and note that this “striving” may come from two sources:

• when a being finds itself in difficult situations, and its physical survival is threatened by (real or imagined) danger — the so-called “power of the body” is activated, it arises from striving for manifestation and has an “Archontic” nature;
• when, on the contrary, obstacles to the satisfaction of urges are reduced, the “power of impurity” comes into play, arising from the drive for fulfillment, the distortion of which is associated with a demonic principle.

Namely, when the body is in danger, it panics and tries to survive at any cost, including oppressing or destroying others; and when, on the contrary, there is too much freedom, no efforts are made toward pursuing desires, and whims and caprices are acted upon. There is only a narrow window of conditions in which freedom is not so restricted as to trigger the “power of the body,” but nor so relaxed as to unleash whims.

It turns out that, despite the high orderliness of the mental foundation and the striving to oppose entropy on the biological level, a human being is “compressed” between two destructive abysses — inertia of matter (hyle) and distortion of perception (malus) — and it is quite difficult for them to keep from falling into at least one of them.

Appearing in the world as an individual self, mind inevitably encounters an initial distortion: it tends either to overestimate the reality of its own perceptions (egocentrism) or the reality of the external world (materialism). In both cases, Yetzer hara arises — the striving for self-assertion and struggle, instead of wholeness and creation.

We have already noted in matter’s very nature an energy of separation — hyle — as a centrifugal force, a striving for disunity and a dispersing pressure. And it is clear that any mind, manifesting in material space, falls under the influence of this force. Enormous inner work is required to stabilize it; otherwise, the very inertia of the environment will gradually erode its integrity, turning being into chaos.

At the same time, processes in the mind are subject to “infection” by malus — a distortion of connections between energies, as a result of which perception is built not on the real order of things but on simple and convenient illusions. This leads to the accumulation of “empty” and “parasitic” structures in the psychocosmos that hinder development.

Just as in a closed physical system disorder and the breakdown of structures gradually grow, in the mind, if it does not exert constant volitional effort to preserve direction and purity of perception, errors, distortions, and parasitic structures accumulate. This is how psychic entropy grows: inner chaos accumulates, clarity decreases, and inner coherence and will weaken. At the same time, while “material” entropy is a passive process, an “extinguishing” of the potential difference, Yetzer hara is an active, distorted movement of the mind, a voluntary submission to inner disorder rather than maintaining a directed, clear flow. That is, the flow of mind does not simply “lose” its structuredness; it begins to support its destruction through its choices — yielding to fear or whims, giving in to illusions, ignoring its own nature.

By its nature, the mind strives to order, for differentiation, for the construction of meanings, for the synthesis of parts into a whole. In its original, pure manifestation, it should go against entropy, creating islands of order in an ocean of possibilities. Nevertheless, falling under the influence of destructive matrices, it often chooses destruction. In the material world, the mind seems to “pass through a filter” of hyle — the inertial force of matter. At the same time, the presence of Yetzer hara makes every act of creation, every act of creating Light, an act of free choice, not determined by anything except inner will, since real freedom is precisely the possibility of choice between order and chaos.

At the same time, destruction (both inner and outer) provides an easy, almost instant release of energy, because, as is known, it is easier to destroy than to build; it is easier to refuse than to maintain; and it is simpler to give in to affect than to keep control. On the level of the psyche, falling into chaos subjectively brings instant relief, a “discharge” of tension. A mind that is not trained in self-discipline begins to “savor” this feeling — just as the body easily becomes accustomed to sweets or drugs.

All of this is additionally “aggravated” by the activity of the Archons, who, acting as regulators of probabilities, seek to maintain the stability of the Interval and worlds by maximally “equalizing” energies. For the mind, this means a constant “nudging” toward a state of energetic sterility, routine, and automatism. In combination with demonic influences (the destruction of awareness in the form of self-indulgence, aggression, greed), there arises that very “inclined plane” of existence along which the mind slides downward, losing the capacity for tension, creativity, and striving toward the Light.

Thus, the tendency toward destruction arises not as a mistake or “sin” of a particular mind, but as a natural result of the interaction of three factors: inertia of matter (hyle), distortion of perception (malus), and the regulatory pressure of the archons (heimarmene).

This pressure intensifies especially in periods of weakening of the mind’s inner structure — when consumed by fear, excessive freedom without direction, or scattered attention. Thus are born both egoism in the struggle for resources (activation of the “power of the body”) and a capricious, chaotic substitution of “freedom” without a vector (the “power of impurity”).

In other words, Evil, in the understanding of the Tradition, is not only an original active force of destruction for the sake of destruction; it is also (and often — first and foremost) laziness, the tendency to avoid the hard work of maintaining a luminous, ordered, integral state of the mind, to surrender to the inertia of matter and the chaos of feelings. If “active” evil is relatively easy to spot, then evil from laziness, passivity, or asthenia of mind is much less obvious. In this sense, one can say that Yetzer hara is a conscious or unnoticed capitulation to entropy.

And this capitulation gives a strange pleasure: it seems that one can be angry, one can pity oneself, one can consider oneself right without real grounds, one can hate those who interfere, one can, finally, tell oneself: “I don’t owe anything. I have the right to be like this. I have the right to my darkness.” Each time a person lets go of inner discipline, they feel a brief surge of euphoria. Falling often gives the illusion of power, suggesting the idea: “I am free from rules. I am my own master.” However, gradually and imperceptibly, this false strength turns into weakness: will begins to disintegrate, attention crumbles, desires are replaced by caprices. Thus a person gradually becomes accustomed to receiving pleasure from destruction, first and foremost — from self-destruction. When they allow themselves to indulge in egoism, petty revenge, envy, or laziness, they feel a sweet prick: “I can. I want. I take.” Then they no longer want to return to the light, because now resistance is no longer just effort — it is pain, while indulgence, on the contrary, is pleasure. Yet this is how inner slavery begins, unnoticed. A person still thinks they are free, because they seem to follow their desires, but in reality they are already led by whims. They themselves become that very dark force of enslavement within that they once seemed to want to overcome. Emotionally, this resembles immersion in a warm, viscous river that at first caresses the body, promising rest and consolation, but then begins slowly, imperceptibly, to carry one farther and farther from the shore, toward the whirlpools where neither light nor meaning can be seen.

It is precisely through the first false assertion “I am a separate, independent being” or “the world exists by itself, and only it is objective” that the process of breaking the mind’s connection with its Source begins, and in it the avalanche of inner losses, weakenings and errors begin.

However, despite this heavy foundation, the Traditions remind that the Path to the Light, though not easy, is possible. Every flow of mind that learns to monitor its states, distinguish the causes and conditions of its actions, control desires and their realization, fights against the current of destruction — and thereby pulls itself out of the dungeon of predetermination.

Accordingly, the task of the Magus in this world is to learn to sustain, and at the same time to control, the mind’s fire despite the natural striving of manifestations to slide into chaos. The path of the Magus, the practitioner, or simply a person striving toward the Light is, in essence, a struggle to restrain entropy within oneself. This is precisely what makes the mind a true creator — not a victim of the “matrix,” but one who surpasses it.