What's reality, anyway?

Thoughts on perception, observation and who knows what's real

Perception is reality, they say. Perception is absolutely not reality, shout the others. Ultimately, it all depends on your perception, as to which mindset you choose to inhabit. We all know to some degree what is actual reality. The physical, fleshy, tangible substance of what is irrefutably here. It’s the coffee table that’s pressed into by aesthetically weighty books. It’s the air-fryer that’s crept its way into the consciousness of many a kitchen. Objects that exist. That’s an example of reality, right? Buildings that we walk into, the people that surround us, seats on trains that carry us. Reality, surely? Then we have events that happen, wildfires, shootings, elections, parades. All reality. Or, are they?

If reality is something that we experience through our senses to prove its existence, then that kind of makes sense, as we are sensorial beings. But, do we only believe something to be based in reality if we can see, touch, taste, smell or hear it? Let’s take an air-fryer, sat on a countertop in your kitchen. If someone asked me if it were real, I would look at it and maybe touch it and say yes, yes it is real. It’s an object based in reality. What if a person stood next to me who had visual impairment or blindness were to be asked that question? They might feel the air-fryer, and those who’ve felt or used them before would be able to name them as such, and might then label it as real.

Others, might rely on someone describing and telling them that the air-fryer was sat there. If they didn’t know or trust the person describing it, they might say no, the air-fryer is not real. Some might be uncertain. Not all of us have even used or seen an air-fryer to know its shape without sight or touch. Despite what the incessant advertising of them might suggest. There are billions of people on this planet who will have no idea what an air-fryer is nor will they be able to afford one. Is it reality, then? There’s so many factors at play than we might think.

What if I simply left the kitchen? When I saw the air-fryer and touched it, I said it was real. When I leave the room and I can no longer see or feel it, is it still real? My memory of it says yes, but then I go about my day, talking to squirrels, squealing in excitement about gooey cookies, engrossed in conversations with friends. I’m not thinking about an air-fryer during any of that time. It’s not really real to me then, until I come home, see it again and remember it’s real. Oooh, I can feel the brain tingles you’re having right now, in thoughts of this, and no, I’m not high, I just like thinking about things. Of course, throughout the day I know there are air-fryers in the world which makes them a definitive part of reality, but this particular one in the kitchen, is it only real if I am observing it? Quite cool to comprehend isn’t it?

It makes me think if observation is essential to our understanding of reality. In whichever ways that we individually observe things. That’s when the perception piece gets tricky, especially in our ever-increasing digitised and divisive Western way of living. Someone can see an Instagram post of the wildfires in New York and say that’s not real. The people who had to evacuate their homes because of said wildfires, would know without a molecule of doubt that it’s real.

What’s the difference? Some people observed and experienced it directly, and were heavily impacted by it. The other did not witness it first-hand and saw it via the internet. But, it’s not only the lack of observation that causes them to say it’s not real. Perception is also tied up in it. Why do they think it’s not real? Maybe they think climate change is a hoax. Maybe they think the images they saw were created by AI. Maybe they don’t trust social media for news reports, because on that same day, the internet said a very much alive celebrity had died and they saw cats being digitally altered and turned into bats (a very popular pic in my group chat, I’ll have you know).

Let’s take another example. Everyone I know, speak to, as well as follow online, would agree that what’s happening in Palestine is extremely real. Overwhelmingly, we want the mass killings, displacement and unbelievable cruelty to end immediately. Sure there’s some differing opinions on how this might or should end, and the individual roles we can all play in taking action, but everyone in my reality, is pretty much on the same page. Similarly, the majority of people I interact with are concerned about the safety and return of the hostages who remain unaccounted for. Yet, I would say that many of the conversations I’m privy to are centred on Palestinian lives and the impact in Gaza. In polarised spaces that are built around narratives of “picking a side”, it is possible and also human, to be able to hold two things at once, which is simply the desire for the care and preservation of life, irrespective of where any group of people may be from.

For context, I live in east London and my local borough is Tower Hamlets. It’s a liberal, Labour stronghold, and according to the last Census, 39.9% of the population described themselves as Muslim. It’s common for me to see Palestinian flags in the street and in house windows in place of curtains. I also spend most weekends in Golders Green, about 45 mins away, and Barnet has the largest Jewish population of any London borough, according to the 2021 Census. Many of the streets have posters of the hostages, and streets lined with yellow ribbons to symbolise the Bring Them Home campaign. Of course, there’s never one factor for anything, and religion isn’t the only factor here, but more a point to be made about how our realities are always shifting and expanding, simply by what we are consuming and being surrounded by. If my weekends weren’t spent in Golders Green, how would it impact the way I’d describe the reality of this situation? How has it added to my perspective?

I think it’s hugely important to not exist within an echo chamber, I try to listen to a multitude of voices, and I don’t believe that any group of people are monolithic, just because they’re the same race, gender, or religion. All (insert any group of people here) don’t feel the same about any given topic and it’s lazy to think so. We don’t assume that in our thinking about whiteness, so why would we assume it about any other group that’s been systemically othered. It’s easy to live within siloed thought that lacks nuance, often based on what we perceive to be reality. Depending on media bias, the people you speak with, your upbringing, values, heritage, religion, and even which streets in the same city you walk through; your perception will be different. We can name something as real, but the eyes in which we see it through can be remarkably different.

It can be argued then, that reality is also based on what we know. If someone asked you today if what’s happening in the Marshall Islands is real, what would you say? No research time allowed, you win the next Omaze prize draw based on your answer, type of deal. If you asked me five years ago, I wouldn’t be able to honestly or confidently answer as I don’t think I even knew where the Marshall Islands were and I definitely didn’t know what was happening there. My darling Becky listened to a podcast about the displacement caused by rising sea levels and nuclear testing, and told me all about it. She was so moved by the stories of the people living there, that she immersed herself in research, which she then shared with me. Our lack of knowledge on any given topic sways our ability to accurately say what is real or not. So, again I ask of us, what constitutes reality?

At the weekend, I watched a report on Cecot, one of the world’s most notorious prisons in El Salvador. Where the lights are kept on 24/7, and around 80 men share a cell with no mattresses, a communal trough of shared water to bathe in, and one open and public toilet for them all to use. A place where solitary confinement is a pitch-black cell. I cried. A lot of these men were gang members and incredibly violent I’m sure. Nonetheless, I cried. I cried because my perception of that reality, is one where I question if places like these are a violation of human rights. I cried because I care about humans, full stop, which means I’m an advocate for survivors but I’m also an advocate for prison reform. Many people watching that report would say it’s adequate punishment, that they deserve it, the streets are safer and so on. We might watch the same report, see the same reality and what we see becomes either something to praise or something that moves us to tears.

Before it even reaches early-darkness at 5pm, I’ve probably seen at least one social media post proclaiming that something isn’t real. Naming something as propaganda or AI. Reddit threads hyping each other up with online protests about how much we’re all being manipulated. Be it the US elections, climate crisis, or deep fakes of large breasts eerily planted on a celebrity. In today’s post-truth culture that’s swimming in both misinformation and disinformation, if you don’t like, understand or believe in something, you can just say it’s not real. Equally, you can claim truth in the very absence of it. What makes it real or not, again might come back to our perception of it. You can say whatever you want, and it’s up to the receiver of your words to decide whether they think it’s real. I mean, Trump the patron saint of disinformation, said in a presidential debate, "in Springfield, they are eating the dogs. The people that came in, they are eating the cats. They’re eating – they are eating the pets of the people that live there." Need I say more on that, nope.

Our beliefs, past experiences, personality, people we surround ourselves with, local environment, education, identity, roles in society, wider culture, and the media we consume all have an impact on our perception of self, others and the world at large. It has an impact on what we believe to be reality, whether we like or agree with it or not. Another example from US politics, because it’s truly the best case study for all of this right now. And selfishly, it’s quite pleasantly quiet on the British front right now. Robert F. Kennedy Jr, the nominee to lead the Department of Health and Human Services, has made claims and agrees with the theory that vaccines cause autism. He’s also an advocate of fluoride being removed from public water because he believes it’s linked to different health conditions. That is his reality. Based on his perception. Some people would call him a maverick health saviour, others would call him a conspiracy theorist and science-denier. His reality ain’t mine, but it does open up questions for all of us about the role of science. He’s simultaneously refuting some science, but also using other science to “prove” his claims. I’ve always said that there’s a research trial to benefit a myriad of different hypotheses. If you think red wine will kill ya, there’s probably a trial on that, if you think red wine can improve your health, you bet there’s one on that too. So, which do we give more weight to, and most importantly, despite the “do your research” warriors shouting at us, are the general public research-literate enough to be able to critically review scientific studies and determine what is or isn’t reality?

Kennedy is an example of how someone’s perception of reality can easily become all of our reality, based on how much power and control someone has. While he proclaims to not be anti-vaccinations, whether it’s him or someone else, there’s a world in which vaccines could be eradicated because a handful of people in power have a negative perception of them. What is actually real wouldn’t really matter then, as democracy is increasingly proving to us.

Amongst the doom and gloom of it all, spiritually speaking, well my version of spirituality that I speak about in my book Take It In and have since expanded on, is a perception based approach to living. I truly think that our perception holds an incredible amount of possibility and potential, because yes, it changes your reality and that’s pretty damn magical. I’m always interested in perspective shifts over endless practices. I will always be a lifelong student of human consciousness and how we can use our ability to perceive has me headlocked in awe.

I’ve spoken about it in other letters, but ask any of my family and friends and they’ll tell you just how much I adore a supermarket. It’s my Disneyland. My spiritual home. If there’s a heaven I know it looks like an M&S. It’s not for the consumption of it all, they are just spectacular places to play out my internal life thesis; which is to reimagine the mundane. In reality, I’m going to the same supermarket as everyone else. I don’t always buy, I just like to browse. To be a part of it all. The difference is simply my perception of it. I see supermarkets as playgrounds of delights, things to examine, explore, touch and the potential to taste. I usually have a shopping list, but I’m not looking at it as a basic need or chore. This is museum-esque for me. Ooooh peaches in cognac, how fancy. Wow, look at this granola with mango chunks. No way, look at these katsu curry peanuts. What’s in this person’s basket? I’ve never seen those bao buns in the freezer before, let me ask them how they are.

I have the time of my life in there, I get giddy because my perception is one where my inner child reigns and she’s always bloody excited to be alive. If someone mentions there’s a trip to a supermarket on the cards, my day is made. Yet, I’ve seen people eye-roll at the very same thing, and dash in and out grabbing what they need. I asked my friend Helen, if she’d like to come with me to M&S the other night. She had an incredible time and kept remarking about how I had turned something she’d ordinarily see as mundane, into the sublime. A perspective shift. Reality shifts.

Beyond the supermarket, our perception holds so much. It makes a metamorphosis out of what we see around us. It’s also my perception of how I view this precious miracle that we know as life. Each day I wake up and pretend that it’s my first time here on Earth. I savour my time here. I see myself not only as a citizen of this world, but a tourist of this world. Exploring and sightseeing the stars and the sky. Living in devotion to awe, wonder, and possibility, without the tired eyes of what is habitual or familiar. I’m not a reality-avoider, and it annoys me when those who carry hope and possibility in our hearts, are swatted with the “ugh all that love and light, toxic positivity shit” response. Sure, some people are like that. Most aren’t. For the most part, I’m positive, hopeful, incredibly silly, and flitting little butterfly of a person. I live in the truth of joy. I’m also extremely critical. Shit annoys me all the time. I’ve experienced depression and anxiety. Hope and criticism can live alongside each other very happily, like a panda with its bamboo, without cynicism cockblocking. I can see the realities of reality and also use my perception to feel into both the bliss and pain of reality.

Whatever is real to us is our reality. We live in the extremes of our perception having the potential to do a whole lot of bad, but also a crater worth of good. I don’t know what reality is, readers. It’s one of those existential questions that need not an answer but just the time and space to linger in perpetual intrigue. It’s like staring in the mirror and wondering why a nose ended up in the middle of our face. What I want to spend more time engaging in, is if perception just determines how we respond to reality. There are wildfires and air-fryers, whether we observe them or not, whether we can see, feel or experience them. We can’t always see the moon in the sky depending on which phase she’s in, light pollution or if you live in a tower block or not. Nonetheless, she persisted, and all that. The moon is there. The moon is real. Regardless if seen in the night sky or if any of us rocketed over to have been a visit.

In our vast interconnectedness, what happens to one of us, happens on some level to all of us. If only one bird witnessed the wildfire, if only one person witnessed a never seen before bolt of lightening in Lancashire, then it’s real, it occurred, it’s a part of us, right? A part of our collective experience. Our perception will then decide how we respond to it. We choose if we believe it or not, get inspired by it or not, do something with it. I don’t know about reality, but I know that our perception matters. Individually, it shapes how much joy, love, and hope we allow ourselves to experience outside of the conditions and circumstances, that are not in our control.