When you look at something, how do you tell whether you are also looking through something else simultaneously? What if you are looking through so spotless and subtle a substance that you almost cannot tell that it is even there?
Answer: You look for a reflection of yourself in the space between yourself and the object of your focus.
With perfectly polished windows, the only thing that gives them away is the glimmer of reflected shadows and light sources on its surface — an inevitable and perhaps unintentional representation of the environment around and behind you that alters your perception of what you meant to observe on the other side of the glass in front of you.
It reminds me of how easily we assume we understand life and situations and people as they are. That is rarely the case, you know — it may never be the case. How often do we look at someone or entertain a thought or belief, and immediately think of how we should relate to them, how we should understand it, or whether something is worth believing — before we have even grasped the essence itself in its purity, in its entirety?
Glimpses of our own reflection in the lenses through which we view the world sometimes play games with our perceptions.
Maybe removing the glass between us and the world is impossible within our lifetime in this reality, or maybe it is possible.
Either way, it might be a good idea to remind yourself every now and then to check for those reflections in the window — especially those that blend in so well with what you see beyond them — and see if you could shift your position a little to minimize their effect on your vision.