©Michele Monticello Essay  all photos ©Michele Monticello  

Recently, I injured my eye. It wasn’t a serious injury, but it was enough to remind me how precious our senses are. We often take them for granted until one of them begins to fail. Sight, hearing, touch, balance, smell each plays its part in helping us navigate the world. Together they form our experience of reality.

It made me realise that we do not simply see with our eyes. We perceive through the combined intelligence of all our senses. They work together, quietly collecting information long before our conscious mind begins to interpret it and only after this process do we arrive at what we call an opinion.

This led me to question how often we reverse that order. Too often, opinion comes first. We react from frustration, excitement, fear, loyalty, or anger, and then begin searching for evidence to justify what we have already decided. Observation becomes selective rather than open. Instead of allowing reality to teach us, we ask reality to confirm our beliefs. Yet observation asks for something entirely different. It asks for patience.

Imagine walking into a house for the first time. Before you have formed an opinion, your senses are already at work. Your eyes notice the light entering the rooms. Your ears detect the surrounding noise or the quietness. You feel the atmosphere, the proportions, the warmth or coldness of the space. None of these observations, on their own, tells you whether the house is right for you. But together they gradually reveal an answer. You do not force that conclusion. It arrives naturally.

The same principle applies far beyond a house viewing. We watch political debates, listen to public figures, witness protests, and experience the countless opinions that surround us every day. There is often so much noise that we feel compelled to choose a side immediately. But if we resist that urge and simply observe listening carefully, watching patiently, allowing events to unfold the patterns begin to reveal themselves.

The truth is often quieter than the opinions built around it. This has made me wonder whether the answers we seek are not something we extract from the world, but something the world offers us when we have observed honestly enough. There is a subtle but important difference. Seeking too aggressively can become another form of forcing. We become impatient with uncertainty and try to reach a conclusion before the evidence has had time to speak.

Observation requires trust. Reading a book offers a useful comparison. Every page contributes something to the story. If we become impatient and turn to the final chapter, we may discover how the story ends, but we will not understand why it ends that way. Meaning is not contained in the last page alone. It emerges through every page that comes before it.

Life seems to work in much the same way. We often want certainty before we have earned understanding. We want immediate answers instead of allowing experience to unfold. Yet understanding is rarely instantaneous. It accumulates. Every conversation, every mistake, every success, every quiet moment of reflection adds another sentence to the story.

Perhaps this is why genuine observation feels so different from judgment. Observation is humble. It accepts that it may not yet know enough. It remains curious. It remains attentive. It allows the world to reveal itself rather than demanding immediate conclusions.

This is true not only in our understanding of the world, but also in our understanding of ourselves. Before judging our own thoughts, emotions, or actions, perhaps we should observe them. Before deciding who we are, perhaps we should simply pay attention. The answers may already be present, waiting patiently for us to notice them.

In the end, I am beginning to think that wisdom is less about collecting opinions and more about refining our ability to observe. Our senses were not given to us merely to gather information; they were given to help us meet reality with openness.

Opinion has its place. Action has its place. Conviction has its place.

But before all of these comes observation. For it is observation that allows truth, in its own time, to reveal itself.