Learning to See Again

Recovering Sanity Through the Skill of Observation

"Observation is where sanity begins." - Benjamin D. Wright

"You see, but you do not observe." – Sherlock Holmes

The new Substack Audio feature has been a game changer to me. I am a big fan of podcasts and audiobooks, so having the ability to listen to the writings of my favorite Substack authors while on my morning commute makes the drive through traffic a little more tolerable somedays.

The more I worked on this week's post, the more I have been bothered by this. No one, including me, goes through the hard work of thinking and writing to then have their words read at 1.5 speed by an artificial voice while navigating through traffic and sipping coffee on the way to work. The cost for this convenience is a form of distraction that takes away from my ability to truly engage the writing.

I spent all of last month thinking and writing about our need to avoid distraction and cultivate attention in our pursuit of excellent thinking. Not only does distraction direct our attention away from the things that matter, it also distorts our ability to make observations and receive the subjects we are studying clearly.

At the bottom of the Cognitive Skill Stack are the twin skills of attention and observation. These two skills form the foundation from which all excellent thinking is built. Admittedly, of the two, the skill of attention is more concrete, practical, and easier to conceptualize. Observation on the other hand is a little bit more abstract. Still, without strong observation skills, our thinking is vulnerable to short sightedness - or, missing the point. In this post, I will outline a basic definition of what I mean by "observation" and address three areas where we often lose sight of this important skill.

What is Observation: The Basics

To begin, observation can be understood as the ability to notice. That might not be very helpful, but stay with me.

We must be clear in our understanding that observation is primarily an act of noticing. It as a distinct act. It is the act of pointing out and calling attention to something, of bringing it front and center.

When we observe, we move information from the background into the foreground. Once it is in the foreground, we can then begin to think with it. For example, we might commit the information to memory, organize it with similar pieces of information, or even utilize it to structure our own arguments and articulation of ideas. But before we do any of that, we must first make observations. While it is in the background, the information is not helpful to us. We need to call it out and bring it to center stage, so that we might then do something with it. A large portion of what it means to cultivate observational skills is found in the focused discipline it takes to not confuse observation with other aspects of our thinking.

What do we notice?

The scope of our observations can be both broad or narrow. It really depends on what we are wanting to notice. For example, when I am reading for leisure I typically have a pretty broad scope in what I might choose to notice and draw out of the text. But rarely do I ever read without an intentional filter. Writing this newsletter at a consistent pace forces me to read with certain key interests in mind.

There are other times when I read and study to make observations about a very specific set of criteria. If I am writing a research paper, I will allow my research questions and the thesis I am pursuing to guide the things I choose to notice and call attention to. In this example, I am not interested in making observations about everything that might stand out to me, but only a very narrow set of criteria that is relevant to the questions I am asking.

Primarily, this is the first step in note taking. We simply mark down the observations we see in the text, hear in the lecture, or notice in our daily lives. Sure, as any good student knows, the observational notes we make must be taken a step further and elaborated on, but we cannot neglect the first step - we need to call attention to something, to give it a place on the page.

Before we can think well, we must first see well. But learning to see takes time and we often lack the patience for it. As such, we are tempted to take shortcuts. We step over dollars to pick up times. We confuse the allure of knowing the forest without understanding the meaning of the trees. For good observation to take place, we need to learn how to slow down and seek again - and again.

Three Ways We Often Lose Sight

(1) When Expectation Replaces Reality

We mistake our theories, assumptions, or preconceptions for true observation.

In his masterful essay, "The Loss of the Creature," Walker Percy provides a strong reflection addressing this specific point. Percy calls attention to how our preconceptions (or theories) often prevent us from truly seeing. He describes how travelers who visit the Grand Canyon rarely experience it directly. Instead, they see what they expect to see as it has been designed for them through experience coordinators, postcards, and guidebooks.

The same principle applies to all forms of learning and observation—when we approach something with rigid expectations, we risk losing the reality of the thing itself. Percy describes this as mistaking the theory for the real. We engage our subjects as we expect them to be rather than as they are. As a consequence,, he argues, "the 'specimen' is seen as less real than the theory of the specimen."

The term "specimen" is a helpful clue here that we have made this fatal error in noticing. To borrow Percy's language, the loss of the true thing has been spoiled from under our very noses.

True observation requires us to strip away assumptions and engage with the subjects we are studying as they are and not as the theory tells us we should assume them to be.

(2) When Interpretation Precedes Perception

We impose meaning too quickly, rather than letting what we observe direct our analysis.

Observation is where sanity begins, because it is grounded in reality (what is there). Antonin Sertillanges in The Intellectual Life further makes this point by connecting the need for a grounding in reality in order to judge rightly. Arguing from Aquinas, he writes, “the real is the ultimate goal of judgment.” If we are going to judge rightly (analysis and interpretation), then we first need to understand the real. Observation is where this happens.

Sertillanges continues, “You as a man of thought must keep in touch with what is; else the mind loses its poise...Thought bases itself on facts as the foot is planted on the ground, as the cripple leans on his crutches.”

It is the observation of the facts of reality that help us keep our heads and steady our minds. The excellent thinker, Sertillanges adds, gathers up the treasure of their observations and from there uses them to “gradually fill out the framework of their thought.”

In her list of "Ten Rules for Students and Teachers," Sister Corita Kent tells us to avoid creating and analyzing at the same time. "They’re different processes."

In a similar way, we must avoid observing and analyzing at the same time. They are different processes.

I see students do this a lot when they study history and philosophy. When they encounter a text, they almost immediately want to start analyzing it using their own contemporary frameworks. ("Why are Aristotle's views on slavery so wrong and offensive - he should know better.") But without observation, true analysis cannot take place. Through observation, we must first grasp the text as it is before us. (We need to fully understand what it is that Aristotle is saying.)

So seeing clearly and making true observations would require us to pause and notice the particularities of the thing we are studying - its features, parts, structure, "the curious bits" as Percy puts it, before moving on to assign meaning through interpretation and analysis.

(3) When Wanting Shapes What We See

Our desires often dictate what we perceive, rather than allowing ourselves to see things as they are.

All of this seems to culminate (for me at least) in a confusion or misunderstanding of the means and ends. By letting my wants and desires grab hold of the reign in my thinking, I am tempted to skip over the necessary step of observation.

Take the Kingfisher for example.

If I really wanted to know and understand the Kingfisher, I guess I could grab a biology textbook and read pages on its anatomy and skeletal structure. I could read books to understand its flight patterns, behaviours, and the particular ways in which it relates to its environment. But really, all this would do is tell me about the Kingfishers as I should expect to encounter them. If I go out in the wild and encounter one myself, I might miss seeing its real beauty for a living specimen according to the model in the textbook. This would be the mistake of allowing expectation to replace reality.

Or, seeking to understand the Kingfisher, I might go out on a bird watching tour and assess the dynamics of its social life as being somewhat analogous to some other species, or ascribe a moral significance to its color pattern.

These rather silly examples are meant to merely establish a point. That is, in seeking to understand the Kingfisher, I would be doing so through the primacy of my own interpretation - as I understand the bird to be, rather than as the Kingfisher is himself.

In both instances, I would be seeing but not observing.

True observation should give birth to creativity and wonder. When we slow down to observe and notice, the world becomes richer, more intricate, and more meaningful. As Percy puts it, reclaiming our ability to truly see prevents us from becoming passive consumers of experience and expectation.

Looking Forward

My wanting to know and understand the Kingfisher must be done by observing the Kingfisher on his own terms, as I encounter him. In Percy's words, as one who merely stumbles into the garden of delights and beholds with openness and wonder the thing before them.

To truly encounter the Kingfisher we need the discipline to make observations free from the theories and biases imposed upon us and rediscover what it means to truly behold. Such observations will lead us into deeper and lovelier thinking. The kind of thinking that makes us sing.