The Invisible Obvious

Why we can't find our glasses

Attention & Awareness

THE THOUGHT

It happened again this morning—where did I leave my glasses?

Hands rustling through drawers, gliding across furniture, brushing aside books and papers with frantic purpose. The minutes stretched, my thoughts pacing as if they, too, were searching. And just as the frustration began to swell, there they were, unbothered, waiting on my bathroom counter.

I’m sure you’ve experienced this too—missing keys, socks, remote controls, or countless other everyday objects, vanishing in plain sight. The harder we look, the more elusive they become. It’s almost as if the act of searching blinds us, narrowing our focus into distraction. What is this curious tendency that shapes how we direct our attention? Let’s take a closer look.

The real voyage of discovery consists not in seeking new landscapes, but in having new eyes.

Marcel Proust
THE DIVE

Blinded by Focus

Inattentional blindness describes our brain’s tendency to miss what’s visible but outside our focus. It’s linked to the brain’s selective attention system, which filters sensory input to avoid overwhelming us. The groundbreaking 1999 study by Simons and Chabris brilliantly illustrates this phenomenon.

This selective filtering evolved for survival, helping humans manage sensory overload by focusing on immediate threats or goals, like spotting a predator in dense foliage. In modern contexts, this efficiency is a double-edged sword. It lets us focus on a virtual meeting but might cause us to miss a colleague’s subtle distress. Similarly, while driving, we track traffic signals but might overlook a pedestrian stepping into the road.

Psychologically, inattentional blindness challenges the idea that “seeing is believing.” Vision is not passive; it’s an active process shaped by how the brain prioritizes information. Neuroimaging studies show that attention controls activity in the visual cortex, meaning what we “see” is influenced by what our brain deems relevant.

Philosophically, it underscores how focus shapes reality. What truths are sidelined in favor of what feels immediate? By narrowing attention, do we limit our understanding?

Socially, this phenomenon has profound implications for relationships and equity. What we fail to notice defines whose voices remain unheard. Marginalized groups or quiet individuals often fall outside societal focus—not from active dismissal but as a byproduct of collective attention.

Perhaps the most disquieting revelation is that inattentional blindness is hardwired into us. But, it invites reflection. If seeing is a choice, so is what we neglect. What might change if we expanded our focus? The overlooked is never truly absent; it waits at the edge, asking us to notice.

THE TOOLKIT
THE PRACTICE

Experimenting with Attention

Why not take a moment to experience inattentional blindness firsthand? Here are two simple experiments you can try to see how selective attention works in your daily life and notice what your brain filters out. Whether you miss a small detail or catch something surprising, each discovery will reveal how your attention shapes reality.

Notice the unexpected.


The next time you watch a movie or show, track how often a character appears or an object is used. While counting, pause and notice the background. Who else was in the scene? Was there an unexpected detail, like a costume change? Observe how focusing on one task makes other details fade.

Reflect during a daily conversation.


During your next chat with a friend or colleague, focus intently on what they’re saying while simultaneously tuning into specific details, like the tone of their voice. Afterward, ask yourself if you noticed anything unusual about the environment around you. Did you miss background noises or setting details?

Our gaze often skips over the familiar—a humbling realization. Perhaps, at times, what we truly need isn’t to search harder, but to simply notice what’s already there. Whether it’s a missing pair of glasses or the bigger picture of our lives, I can’t help but wonder: do we already hold most of what we’re searching for, simply waiting for us to pause and see?