Chaos: A Theory
The universe is born of chaos. Stray particles floating through an undecipherable void, colliding, exploding, its product spreading ever outward into nothingness, its matter creating ever more burning orbs and dead worlds.
Order, contrary to popular belief, is not the opposite of chaos but a spoke on its wheel. Order is found in chaos, created from chaos. Our solar system is a fluke, a statistical anomaly. Our planet and evolution even more so. These consistencies allow for life to exist, of course, but are not the core of all things. In the grand scheme this order, so called, is a rarity.
The opposite of chaos then, if it is not order, is stagnation. Chaos breeds movement, an ever-changing and ever-forming reality. Chaos is fresh, new, progressing.
Art is a microcosm of this - it is sporadic, creative, rogue, and yet within its lines lies a semblance of order, a unifying theme of cohesion. What art is not, and can never be, is stagnant. A single brick is not art of itself. It is dead, unmoving, unthinking. But a brick in the hand of the artist is a tool, a building block of chaotic creation sculpted with an eye towards order.
Still, order and chaos struggle against one another. Order is the ambitious child, the foolish tyrant. If order was the structure of all then stagnation would, indeed, be ushered into rule. All would be stifled, be cut to size, and die. Order creates a world of gray block, an industrial sense of soul crushing practicality.
By contrast, chaos is wild maturity, the spark of the soul. It, however, also needs order as much as it needs the other spokes on its wheel. Without order there is only burning suns shining on dead worlds. Beautiful, but unseeable, lifeless.
Chaos, though, requires a portion of supremacy amongst its spokes. It is the wheel that must turn. Without it stagnation reigns.
And so we bemoan chaos in error, where it should instead be celebrated - its lines observed, its swirling vortex of life obtained.