Juxtaposynthesis.
It’s a word my sculpture professor would use all the time, and I’m pretty sure he made it up. It’s when two things that seem opposite or unrelated come together in a really beautiful or inspiring or provocative way, and something good is formed.
It’s like peanut butter on a hamburger. {Don’t believe me? Come to Kalamazoo, find the Studio Grill and ask Craig for a baby nutty butter burger. You’ll see.}
Juxtaposynthesis.
It’s something I kept thinking of today.
I thought about it when my producer and his assistant would talk in crazy voices like we were all in high school and then turn right around and say something about the lovely rhythmic interplay of that bridge or the analog signals coming from the Yamaha.
I thought about it when I drove through the neighborhood where I’m staying and looked at the beautiful, expensive homes. I’m sleeping on a comfy couch in a sweet, cozy 2-bedroom place that is exactly what they would build if they were to make a movie about this week, but right across the street lives the man who wrote “In Christ Alone” and “Speak, O Lord.” We waved at him on our way to lunch today.
And I think about it now. As I lay all wrapped up and relaxed and ready for bed, and someone who I just met yesterday is sitting in the other room envisioning, practicing, and perfecting the songs that came straight out of my and Jesus’ heart. Falling asleep to melodies and notes that I know very well and yet hardly at all.
photo by Brian Wolfe(y)
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