Making Sense of Our Senses

I explore how fallible and trickable our senses are. Knowing this can be a game-changer for those with anxiety or OCD. This excerpt is from lecture 17 of The Calmness in Mind Process by John Glanvill.

Anxiety and OCD thrive on doubt, the demand for control, and fear of the body’s natural chemical responses. Yet most of what we experience as “reality” is already an interpretation. Understanding that fact is one of the more useful shifts available to anyone trying to change their relationship with fear.

We do not look out of our eyes. Light enters, is converted to electrical signals, and is reconstructed in the occipital lobe at the back of the brain. Gaps are filled in. Blind spots are guessed. Colour is added by the visual system; the object itself has none. What we “see” is a three-dimensional model generated inside a dark skull. It feels external, but it is not.

The same process applies to hearing. Sound waves are pattern-matched against a database of known sounds. Loud or unexpected noises can trigger the amygdala. Certain accents, tones or phrases can do the same if they were linked to past criticism or threat. Medication that dampens sensory input can further distort the matching process, sometimes producing voices or misinterpretations that then feed new fear loops.

Beliefs and conditioning decide which details are amplified and which are ignored. An anxious brain walking into a kitchen may register the full bin, the dirty plates and the grubby cloth. Another person in the same room notices the light through the blind and the packet of biscuits. Both are looking at the same physical space. The virtual reality each constructs is different.

This is why intrusive thoughts feel so convincing. They appear inside the same system that generates the visual and auditory world. The person with OCD who has thoughts of harming others is not a potential psychopath; the presence of concern is evidence of the opposite. The thoughts are simply material the brain is generating, the same way a horror writer generates material and then turns it into fiction. The difference is in the interpretation and the response.

The practical implication is straightforward. Because the senses deliver an edited, belief-filtered version of the world, we can influence the filter. Positive, clear internal language begins to change what the system prioritises. Repeated exposure moves trigger images and sounds from the “unsafe” amygdala database to the “safe” one. The body still produces adrenaline when appropriate; the difference is that the sensation is no longer treated as proof of catastrophe.

There is also an energetic dimension worth considering. Thoughts and spoken words carry frequency. Negative, critical, fearful internal dialogue tends toward lower, more chaotic resonance. Soft, accepting, affirmative language tends toward higher, more coherent resonance. Trapped trauma densifies the system and lowers its natural frequency. Releasing that density through deliberate exposure and observation raises it again. The sand on a vibrating plate forms ordered patterns at certain frequencies; at others it remains disordered. The body is not exempt from the same principle.

None of this requires you to pretend the external world is perfect. It requires recognising that the internal model is malleable and that the Observer can choose which version of the model to reinforce. You can notice the racing heart without adopting the story that accompanies it. You can hear the critical internal voice and talk over it with a kinder one, even if the kinder one does not yet feel true. You can look in the mirror and refuse the conditioned commentary that usually appears.

The question is not “How do I make anxiety disappear while staying the same?” It is “What kind of person would anxiety find it hard to live inside?” That person has a different relationship with the senses, a different internal dialogue, and a greater willingness to let the body feel what it feels without turning every sensation into a crisis.

Start with the simplest practice. When the old commentary appears, consciously replace it with language you would use toward a child you cared about. When a situation triggers the familiar physical response, place attention on the sensation itself rather than the story. When you catch yourself scanning for what is wrong, deliberately notice what is neutral or pleasant in the same field of vision. Repetition updates the filter. The virtual reality begins to change.

The senses will never deliver pure, unfiltered truth. They deliver a usable working model. Once that is accepted, the model can be improved.