Everyone always tells you (especially when dating someone who is not your clone) that “opposites attract.” It is a less-than-helpful witticism that does little to evoke anything but a forced chuckle. Since day one, I have cringed at this little declaration of pseudo-philosophy, since everyone tosses it out too freely, as if they came to this esoteric conclusion themselves. I suppose it’s akin to the usage of the term irony in it’s misapplication. Just not bastardized to the level of pop-music stardom (yet).
But as I exited the parking garage this morning, this phrase ran through my head for some unknown reason. Actually I think the coffee must have hit my bloodstream at that point, but we’ll play along all the same. And while I don’t much care about the romantic applications of the statement, the thought that “opposites are attractive” makes sense to me, at least moreso now than before.
I’ve written before about how we are too easily swept up in routines, mindsets and stereotypes. And by “we” I mean “me.” As if pre-destined for grooves and notches to fall into (I often think of the bobsled tracks with their high walls), we get comfortable knowing our boundaries, our beliefs and our limits. It makes life less scary to rely on static variables filed away under the “safe and known” category. Knowing a particular route to work, having a top five favorite artists list, securing a favorite local pub, etc. This allows us the freedom to half tune-out, simply because we’ve established some concrete anchors in our lives so that we’re not completely adrift at sea. And as we all painfully find out at some point or another through the death of a loved one or a lost job, etc, when we get shaken out of these grooves and when something rocks our world enough to even peer over the top edge of the bobsled track, everything seemingly changes. In reality, we’ve just been numb to it and haven’t seen the forrest for the trees (I’m trying to crush any credibility this post with the weight of terrible colloquialisms apparently).
But this is where the beauty in life is: on the opposite side of where you stand.
Music that takes a drastic departure from the established norm, art that deviates from the critically acclaimed, spontaneous behavior within a relationship, a product that fills a void ingeniously: it is at the edges where the action happens, not the comfortable middle.
As a creature of damnable routine myself, I am too easily blinded by the track ahead. And when all to be seen is familiar white for miles ahead, you forget the charm and attraction of the world beyond.
Sometimes all it takes is a clear blue sky on a morning preceded by 15 days of clouds. It could be a conversation with someone that extends beyond the boundaries of routine small-talk. It could even be the simultaneous smell of perfume and cigarette smoke in a darkened stairwell. But whatever form it comes in, the sobering hand slap of The Opposite that forces you to look the other way for a brief moment…that is an instant of indescribable perfection.
And as someone who’s creativity is his livelihood, and who’s life force is defined by thinking beyond boundaries, I must learn to seek out these opposite moments, to rock the boat of my routine, to startle me into paying closer attention to the world around me.
Even if it means creating my own moments.
