“The union of opposites,” once wrote Austrian novelist Stefan Zweig, “in so far as they are really complementary, always results in the most perfect harmony; and the seemingly incongruous is often the most natural.”

My first introduction to the word “complementary” was during my first grade art class when we were taught the color wheel. Basically, complementary colors are the opposite hues on the wheel. The opposite of red is green, yellow is purple, and blue is orange. Artists use these colors side by side to make each other pop as it creates a simultaneous contrast, allowing us to interpret the color somehow differently, the oranges/reds brighter while the blues/purples darker, than when it is without the other.

It is an interesting perspective on how we think of the countless opposites we encounter — the constant battle of good versus evil, our idea of happiness versus our actual sadness, our future hopes versus our immediate frustrations. 

As if Zweig and art are telling us that all these things, rather than seeing them as conflicting, are actually enhancing, in some strange harmony, each other’s qualities.

We will never be able to look back at the good old days warmly without the cold of the absence present brings, nor will we ever celebrate our victories without the blood, sweat, and tears that brought us here.

The inherent need to be good and okay is not all there is to us, else we are no different than a manufactured robot. To be human is to persistently live with opposites; the order and the chaos — that is the only way will we ever know beauty.