ArcaNuova · Thought theme
Who is behind the glass?
A swallowtail butterfly at the window. A childhood aquarium. A dentist who did not look only at teeth. And the question: do we observe the world, or does the world observe us?
School usually begins with answers.
Life often begins with observations.
Long before biology lessons began at secondary school, there was already an aquarium in my home. Not as decoration, but as a small research project.
Life cannot be commanded. It appears, grows and reproduces only where the conditions are right. Water quality, light, temperature and balance decided whether the animals felt well or not. Some species reproduced, others did not. Life itself seemed to show when the conditions were fulfilled.
At that time I did not yet know the technical terms. I merely observed.
Later biology became my favourite subject. Many connections met me there for the second time. The only difference was: now they had names.
Perhaps understanding begins exactly like this. Not with answers. But with observations.
Whoever learns only terms knows the words. Whoever observes recognises the connections.
Learning by observing
This way of observing later accompanied me in my profession as well.
I never understood dentistry merely as the repair of individual teeth. The mouth was not an isolated room for me, but part of the whole person.
When one treats whole families over many years, connections become visible that cannot be seen in a single tooth. Habits, nutrition, inheritance, care, explanation and therapy work together.
I began to suspect that unhealthy gums can be more than a local problem. That inflammation in the mouth can affect the whole organism. Much that seems obvious today was then still a matter of observation and experience.
Health cannot be commanded. It arises where the conditions are right.
Later terrariums and aviaries came into conversation. My son kept reptiles for a time and had the idea of building a large aviary for birds on our land.
Today I no longer need an aquarium, terrarium or aviary. The sea is only two kilometres away. The diving cylinder is in the garage. Buzzards circle above the valley. Lizards sun themselves on the walls.
The swallowtail in front of the glass
And one day a swallowtail butterfly landed in front of the large glass front of the house.
We watched it for quite a while. It flew differently from most butterflies. At times it almost glided like a bird of prey. It seemed to stand in the air, turned away, came back and sometimes looked as if it were flying backwards.
This observation eventually gave rise to this thought.
Once I accidentally left an electric mosquito trap switched on all night. It was meant only to keep mosquitoes away from the dining table.
The next morning I did not find a handful of insects in it, but a small exhibition of biodiversity. Thirty or forty different species had been caught in it.
That made me aware how much life normally remains hidden from us.
When I sit today behind the great glass front of my house and look over the landscape, I sometimes think of the aquarium of my youth.
Back then I sat in front of a pane of glass and observed a small world. Today I sit behind a pane of glass and look into a large one.
And sometimes I suspect that nature is looking back.
Then an entirely different question arises: who is actually observing whom?
And deeper still: what do I really see when I look?
The single fish? The single tooth? Or the whole system?
