First, we need to consider some issues of philosophy. After all, philosophy is the parent of psychology — and from that perspective, the child still has a lot of growing up to do.

Imagine a piece of paper with ten circles on it. Each circle represents a different world religion or subgroup of a major religion.

Can anyone sincerely announce to the world that religion number three is the only correct religion and that everybody else is wrong?

Most people with an engaged brain would conclude, “No, they can’t.” Yet, in reality, people do exactly that. They knock on your door and say, “We’re Jehovah’s Witnesses and we’re right,” or “We’re Mormons and we’re right,” or “We’re Catholics and we’re right,” and so on.

It is easy to understand this in terms of religion, but what many people fail to appreciate is that the same principle applies in almost every other area of life — including science and medicine.

People often think science exists to determine what’s true, fact or fiction. But that is not really what science does.

Let’s say scientists are studying something under a microscope — we’ll call it Virus B. If you think back to school, or to anything you’ve read over the years, you’ll usually find several scientists offering different explanations from different theoretical viewpoints.

Philosophy tells us that no scientist can honestly say, “My theory is absolutely correct and everybody else is wrong,” or “My explanation will remain correct forever.”

People love making those claims, but they cannot be accepted as gospel. At best, theories are explanations that appear useful and valid at a particular point in time.

Fifty, one hundred, or two hundred years from now, there is every chance people will laugh at many of our current theories about cancer, viruses, epilepsy, depression, and countless other conditions.

What matters here is how this applies to human psychology — to the way people interpret reality, including their own experiences, insecurities, fears, heart palpitations, anger, cravings, memories, and emotions.

Philosophers argue there is no single reality experienced identically by everybody. They argue that we create reality through perception and meaning.

Cancer, for example, will mean very different things to different people. A naturopath, an Aboriginal elder, a scientist, a religious fanatic, a smoker, and an elderly person may all view cancer through completely different personal filters.

Rain might depress you or me, while a farmer celebrates it with joy.

We create reality — and that is critically important.

Imagine your partner says, “Gee, you were a bit selfish last night.”

You could respond positively:

“Yes sweetheart, I probably was a bit selfish. I enjoyed myself, so tonight’s your turn and I hope you enjoy yourself as much as I did.”

That response may lead to closeness, humour, and connection.

Or you could react negatively:

“Leave me alone. Who do you think you are? What about what you did five days ago?”

That reaction will almost certainly create tension, distance, or conflict.

The way we react is directly related to how we perceive a situation. Perception shapes reality — and perception itself is shaped by belief systems.

Whether something comes from the outside world — something somebody says or does — or from inside us, such as anger, jealousy, a six-month-old memory, shakiness, craving, or self-doubt, nothing on this planet has meaning until we give it meaning.

Something can only be understood through the meaning we attach to it — and no two people will attach exactly the same meaning to the same experience.

Those meanings can help us move forward in healthy ways, or they can damage us.

This concept is already well known within psychology. In fact, it forms the basis of many cognitive therapies and approaches to emotional change.

What many of these models fail to fully appreciate, however, is the role of the ancient survival structures within the brain — regions that are remarkably good, and often trigger-happy, at assigning danger, catastrophe, fear, and negative meaning to experiences. In many cases, these systems work against us and can seriously destabilise us.

Anxiety sits underneath, or acts as the active ingredient in, many psychological problems. So I’ll use anxiety as the main example here, although the principle applies across much of the so-called mental illness spectrum.

Imagine you have recently had a full medical check-up and been told you are perfectly healthy.

Now imagine that one day, without warning, you suddenly feel strange. Your heart races. You feel shaky. Your vision feels odd. You become light-headed.

Please understand: there is no medical or psychological law that says you must immediately clutch your chest and think:

“Oh my God, what’s wrong with me? Am I having a nervous breakdown? Is it stress? Am I losing my mind?”

Those reactions are not facts. They are meanings you have attached to physical sensations.

Any honest and knowledgeable doctor should be able to admit — even if it is not in their financial interest to do so — that for many people the real problem is not the initial symptom itself, but the way the person interprets and reacts to it.

That first fearful interpretation can become the beginning of a destructive chain reaction.

It is similar to the first cigarette, the first chocolate biscuit, the first self-doubting thought, or the first fearful reaction. Once triggered, the process can begin feeding on itself like a train rolling downhill without brakes.

We create reality — and that is where many of life’s psychological problems begin.

Fortunately, the potential solution lies in the same place: inside the human mind.

Medication can certainly help some forms of anxiety and depression, and for some people it can be extremely important. But medication alone is rarely a complete cure.

So here is a challenge.

Try to find one thing on this planet that has exactly the same meaning for every human being.

Take a glass of water.

For one person, water is precious and scarce. For someone lost in a desert, that glass of water may be worth more than every possession they own. Offer it to a child, and they may respond, “No thanks, I want a Coke.”

Nothing has meaning until we assign meaning to it.

If teenagers were taught earlier about the tricks, distortions, and survival mechanisms of the brain — before drugs, addictions, panic reactions, and destructive thinking patterns took hold — some people may never descend into serious psychological crises.

Consider this example: you and I could theoretically hallucinate a ghost in my office.

You might panic and say, “Oh no, now I’m seeing ghosts. What’s wrong with me?”

I might look at the same hallucination and say, “Hi, come on in — but I’m going to have to charge you for the session as well.”

Same experience. Different meaning.

And that difference in meaning can change everything.

Nothing has a meaning until we give it one. And nothing in this world carries exactly the same meaning for every one of us.

If you disagree completely, then perhaps the challenge is simple:

Find me one genuine exception to the rule.

When I gave up smoking, like most people I experienced unpleasant withdrawal symptoms. My body craved nicotine.

Applying the principle above, I learned to stand my ground and reinterpret those same sensations as recovery symptoms rather than signs that something was wrong. I actually welcomed them because they represented healing, not deprivation.

In many ways, I probably gave up smoking within two or three hours.

Nothing has a meaning until we give it a meaning — and that principle is incredibly important.

The clients who undertake my program learn just how powerful this concept can be. It helps them take greater charge of their future by learning how to take greater charge of the brain.

The same principles apply to many forms of so-called mental illness. In many cases, a person becomes trapped by the brain’s tendency to convince them that their thoughts, fears, sensations, or interpretations represent objective truth, rather than understanding that they may simply be products of brain chemistry, conditioning, survival mechanisms, and learned patterns.

At this stage, some people may already be thinking, “Well, I already sort of know this.”

And that is fair enough.

There are countless modern philosophies, self-help movements, and psychologies promoting the general idea that “reality is what we make it” — sometimes to the point of the absurd.

However, recognising that the brain helps create reality is only half the equation.

The other half involves understanding the actual structural and evolutionary design of the brain itself — particularly the primitive survival systems that are capable of distorting perception, exaggerating danger, and trapping people in unhealthy cycles of fear and interpretation.

Now consider the implications of teaching children these simple foundational principles at an early age:

  • Nothing has a universal meaning until we give it a meaning.
  • Human beings possess primitive survival mechanisms within the brain that can push us toward exaggerated, fearful, unhealthy, or destructive interpretations of reality.

Children can learn how psychological symptoms are created, reinforced, and maintained. Through ongoing practice, awareness, and the right education, they can also learn how to weaken the influence of the primitive brain rather than becoming seduced by its tricks.

The earlier people understand the difference between experience and interpretation, the greater the possibility that they will navigate life with resilience rather than fear.