Every complex human structure—be it a relationship, a family, a collective, or a system based on human dynamics—contains within it the tension between two opposing yet interdependent forces. One is entropy, the force of decay; the other is syntropy, the force of order. One destroys order, the other establishes it. One acts as decomposition, the other as direction. Yet both are necessary. Not as adversaries, but as corrective mechanisms that enable growth and development through the constant tension, questioning, and regulation. A system that forbids entropy becomes rigid; a system that has no access to syntropy falls apart. Balance between them is not a luxury—it is a necessity.
In every long-term relationship, especially where a new form of awareness, deeper understanding, or a different structure of cooperation is emerging, internal tensions inevitably appear over time. These rarely surface as direct opposition. They appear as subtle cracks in the structure. As the feeling that something is no longer aligned. A mismatch between words and actions, between expressed intentions and actual consequences. And it is precisely in these cracks that the archetypal conflict between two internal contrasting positions is revealed: between the one who sees, feels, and carries the truth within, and the one who conceals and controls it to preserve the old order.
One of the fundamental principles that emerges in such conditions is the internal pattern of the one who feels more deeply, perceives earlier, and sees more clearly through the veils of illusion. Such an individual does not live off illusions. His natural setting is not submission and comfort, but perception. He perceives what is left unsaid. He feels tensions before they become conflicts. And through his presence alone, he becomes a mirror. He need not speak. His mere existence is enough. His clarity triggers tension because it begins to reveal the cracks that a structure built on apparent stability refuses to acknowledge.
This clarity is often perceived as a threat. Not because it seeks to attack, but because it no longer participates in the game of illusion. And when a structure is based on two faces, on two truths—one for the outside world, another for internal survival dynamics—such a presence becomes unbearable. Not because it is violent, but because it is honest. Where an alliance is shown outwardly but inwardly there grows a silent tendency toward the preservation of control, where words are beautifully crafted but energy tells a different story, the crack begins to transcend the individual relationship. It begins to transform the entire system.
When such a system no longer receives energy from admiration, submission, and silent cooperation within old patterns, it first attempts to save itself through defense. By constructing a new illusion, finding a new narrative about why change is unnecessary or even harmful. The one who maintains the old order often places themselves in the role of caretaker, savior, corrector. They create the impression that they are restoring order, when in reality they are merely stalling the flow that would lead to transformation. Such apparent care is subtle. It does not scream. It does not overtly coerce. Yet its goal is not change, but the preservation of control over the narrative. To keep the illusion alive and suppress the truth.
Within such an environment, it becomes crucial that there exists a figure who gives unconditionally. Without needing recognition. Without seeking attention. Who simply knows that their purpose is to give more than they take—and to receive respect, not exploitation or abuse; and who understands that order is not a privilege, but a necessity. Such a figure is a source of syntropy. They bring order, structure, and the possibility of development. But because they act from integrity rather than from conditioned behavior, they receive precisely what the system cannot yet process—entropy. In the form of doubts, resentments, defensive reactions, manipulations, and attempts to silence them. Not because they are problematic, but because they provoke learning.
The entropy that such a figure receives is not personal. It is the natural response of a system resisting change. And because the figure is not dependent on external validation, they continue. They give, lead, guide, wait. But only as long as there remains even the minimal potential for learning. When it becomes clear that the system no longer wishes to be ordered, but wants to protect itself from ordering, a shift follows. A silent decision. It is not about defeat. It is about discernment. It is about the realization that to continue would be to participate in maintaining chaos.
And then comes the entropic response. Not in the form of rage. Not as a confrontation. Not as blame. It comes as silence. Withdrawal. A presence that no longer responds. An energy that no longer reacts. A pattern that breaks. The one who expected the continuation of the game is met with silence. The one who counted on a reaction is met with emptiness. And in that emptiness, it becomes clear who carried the structure. Who was the source of clarity. Who enabled the illusion with their own silence. And who is truly ready to take a step toward something new.
It is now clear why the figure who gives unconditionally cannot and must not remain in a space where their contribution is no longer welcomed. Not because of a sense of rejection, but out of respect for order. Because if the ordering force persists in an environment that rejects it, it becomes part of entropy. And that would be a betrayal of its own essence. Therefore, the entropic response, when it comes at the right time, is always healing. Always corrective. It does not destroy, but removes what is no longer aligned. It creates space for a new structure that is no longer based on concealment, but on awareness.
Every system that wishes to ascend to a higher level of operation must undergo the breakdown of those parts that serve survival rather than development. It must face a mirror that does not distort but reflects. And such a mirror cannot be part of the game once the game becomes a lie. Therefore, the figure that orders must also know how to sever. Not out of resentment. Not out of revenge. But because they know that learning without consequences does not exist. Because they know that without emptiness, without silence, without withdrawal, there can be no contact with reality.
Syntropy without entropy becomes illusion. Entropy without syntropy becomes disintegration. Only balance between them enables transformation. And the greatest contribution of the one who sees more clearly is not to fix everything, but to know, when the time comes, how to no longer respond. And thus allow the old cycle to complete. And a new chapter to open—a spiral ascent into syntropy, because only through the proper application of force can a circle transform into a rising spiral. For oneself, for others, and for the entire system, which can now move into its version 2.0.
Aleš Ernst, Author of the AEQ Approach
