As long as humanity delves into life’s depths—researching, discovering, recognizing, and understanding—valuable truths almost always reveal themselves in cores, traces, and microscopic revelations. The little things point to greatness and enable us to understand great things. This is a fact across all fields of science and especially true in the most significant field: the exploration of ourselves and our relationships with one another. People look, check, and feel when they first meet each other. And even after years as a couple or lifelong friends, research continues—the observation and judgment never cease. In this infinitely diverse interpersonal realm, it’s rarely grand gestures but rather small things that confirm love and friendship. Minimal parts of the day that shoot straight into the heart and affirm a “yes” to the other person. As a friend, as a partner, or as a colleague. The last piece of cake on a plate in the fridge with a post-it note: “Yours! Big kiss!” Like when a partner sometimes subtly moves their lips while reading. Two minutes before a necessary appointment, the WhatsApp message: “Good luck now!” A thousand things, all small yet enormous, they are. When I have this perspective, I hold the key to happiness. Then, during a delayed, stressful train journey, I can look out the window and see a little boy energetically scolding his huge dog to sit by the roadside, an elderly couple holding hands, and a flock of seagulls in the sunlight. At that moment, I become a collector of the little things and their messages for great happiness.
Jule and Ben met three weeks ago. It was an attraction at first sight. It was desire, longing, laughter, familiarity, and passion in the past several days. But it turned into a love for him when he knew she was the woman of his life when he played one of his absolute favorite songs pretty loudly on his mega hi-fi system. And she suddenly stepped up to the system and turned the volume knob up a bit louder. That blew him away. That was the enzyme that filled his heart like a tiny fragment in the magnifying glass of an archaeologist, giving certainty to an entire Roman settlement. And from these mini-clues, which are parts of a more significant phenomenon, there are many more from the other person. Like how he arranges the vegetables on his plate in groups when eating. Like how she briefly licks her lips again after a kiss or after a good meal. Like how a friend sends a text before a big trip: Remember your passport.

The view of such things and their yield is infinite. And it extends to everything in our lives. Especially during monumental experiences, small observations and your unique perceptions are all the fun. When at a stadium concert of a mega-band, I observe a roadie on stage meticulously adjusting the lead singer’s microphone with love. For example, the moment a friend brings back a cola from the stalls and, surprisingly, a band scarf from the merchandise. Like when a blackbird sits unflinchingly on a metal pole amidst 50,000 and ear-splitting sounds of the superstars, watching. And after the mega-concert, it continues. The following day at the bakery. I could stand in line and be annoyed as the woman ahead orders things like “Braunschweiger with poppy seeds,” “Paderborn donuts,” or “sesame rolls without sesame.” But I could also see the young couple, looking entirely like they just got out of bed after a night of good sex and fun, hungrily staring at the sandwiches. Or the small dog in the Louis Vuitton bag of the lady in front of me in line, seemingly smiling at me. Life offers us something everywhere, in every situation, at every moment. It holds a moment that says, “Look, Life is great!”

And I can seize this moment or not. I can see it or walk past it. I can become richer or not add anything to my happiness account. It all depends on me. And that’s often the point: Many wish for a glimpse of these blissful particles but don’t get it. Stress and rush, unfortunately, always win. Or you are being trapped in thoughts, planning, and things around the partner, family, or job. You’re almost at Hamburg – Berlin on the train and haven’t even looked out the window. Just at your stupid laptop, your newspaper, your book. You didn’t see the deer in the morning dew, the pig that chased a dog, or the glimmer of sunlight in a stream. Can you train yourself to look at these pearls? The answer is straightforward: Yes! You can do it with so-called microcosm exercises. When lying on the beach, don’t look at the big picture, not at sea, the bathers, or the beautiful people, but at a maximum 20 by 20 centimeters piece of sand next to your towel. After a while, you see wonders: the countless different colors of the grains, the beetle crawling up a dune, the waves of sand, the constant collapse of the hills, and the formation of new ones and waves. There’s a small planet, only 40 centimeters to the right of my sunscreen. And this training can be done anywhere. If you’re in a café, look at the opposite shop entrance. What happens there? In just 10 minutes. Entire stories happen there. Successful filmmakers, screenwriters, and directors have an eye for life’s little things. It’s these little moments that make us who we are. They make their films authentic, lovable, and unforgettable with them. It starts with the classics: Is the chariot race the most significant scene in “Ben Hur”? Yes, perhaps. But the scene that genuinely moves us is when the soldier who tries to deny Ben Hur water on the galley march is stopped by a sidelong glance, that of Jesus. Meryl Streep, in “The Bridges of Madison County,” while on the phone, briefly runs her hand through Clint Eastwood’s hair. When Ryan Gosling in “La La Land” looks up from his piano and fixes Emma Stone through the jazz club.

The little things. You see, you appreciate them. Grant them the power they possess because We, especially we, are made up of small things, too. We are made up of cells. Microscopic cells. Trillions. And each of them is a small planet. Round. Full of genetic information. Full of vital functions. Ingenious tiny beings that enable our lives in the first place. They prescribe the formula that the whole consists of small wonders. And life means seeing these little things. Whoever sees them sees themselves. And deep into life.