As in all my essays, what will be discussed is an expression of my personal views. As a psychologist, my personal experiences include years of study and contact with and observations of other people. If an objective set of truths exists, my guess would be that only God could know it. As far as I can tell, I can only know my own experiences. Consequently, anything I have to say arises out of the totality of what is within my being and should not be taken as absolute truth, for I have no idea what that is.

     I define facts as our direct experiences. Facts are always subjective, idiosyncratic, and confined to an instant in time. Consequently, John may experience X totally differently from Mary, and both John's and Mary's experience of X may change from one moment to the next.

• The thought that a ghost is haunting one
• The opinion or belief that one will always be successful no matter what one does
• Einstein's dream/idea that E=mc²
• The hearing of a song or viewing of a painting
• The experience of an emotion, such as joy upon seeing one's child laughing
• An intuition or hunch that a teetering object is about to fall off its perch
• Hearing the voice of an inner or outer Critic berating the inner Child, "Naughty, naughty! You shouldn't have done that."

     Facts are the basic data of our existence. If you are familiar with Carl Jung's theory of Psychological Types, you probably realize that he would categorize those data as thoughts, feelings, sensations, and intuitions, his four psychological "functions."

     I define "fiction," in this context, as what is done with facts and what is "made" of them. It is the outcome of processing facts. (Think of processed foods and how they are created from raw material, for example. Sometimes the result resembles the raw material, and sometimes it is totally different.) Generally speaking, a fiction is the content or substance of an intuition, thought, belief, opinion, or conviction. Distinguishing fact from fiction challenges our ability to discriminate because the process by which fiction is created usually occurs in the unconscious. By the time fiction reaches consciousness, it can appear deceptively to be a "fact" itself. I find it extremely interesting that we humans often assume that our thoughts, ideas, and opinions - themselves derived from perceptions -- are believed to be as factual as the perceptions themselves. To do so appears to be a gross self-deception.

     To illustrate, we shall examine each of the above examples in order.

     If a person has the thought that a ghost is haunting her/him, that thought itself is indeed a fact. Whether or not a ghost IS haunting one may or may not be a fact. Verification of this thought would require additional observations and information. Would you agree that a man is haunted if he told you the evidence lies in his having repeatedly lost a bundle of money playing poker? What experiences or under what specific conditions would YOU agree that a ghost actually IS haunting you or another person? (This leads to a far more interesting philosophical question as to whether knowledge can be considered a fact at all. That raises the philosophical issue of epistemology, a pertinent topic that I plan to explore from a psychological point of view in another essay.)

     Something in our minds or a person we know tells us that we will always be successful no matter what we do. That comment undoubtedly is a fact of sensation because we "hear" it. But how can a prediction of a future event be a fact? It may be a fact that some people - perhaps all of us -- have ESP (extra-sensory perception) and can perceive a future event in the present. But what kind of perception would be needed to predict a whole series of events stretching out through the lifetime of an individual? Always is a long word. If a parent told his/her child that s/he would always be successful, imagine how devastating it would be if the child perceived something s/he did to be a failure. It not only would dash whatever hopes had been created but also would instill doubt and suspicion regarding anything the parent might say after that.

     Einstein actually dreamed the equation E=mc², just as the chemist Kekule dreamed the structure of the benzene ring. The dream was a fact, but is it true that E=mc²? Einstein set about performing studies and experiments to determine its veracity. He believed that he demonstrated that indeed E=mc², i.e., energy equals mass times the square of the speed of light, c. Recently, the precise accuracy of the equation has come into question. A fact cannot come into question for the person who experiences the fact. Although E=mc² has been shown by many to be demonstrable, it still is a "fiction" or processing of the dream-fact because there is no way one can experience the equation directly.

     When we hear a song or view a painting, what we sense is a fact. A pattern forms somewhere in our brains, and we hear or see an overall gestalt. That gestalt also is a fact of our perception. The "fiction" arises as a result of what we do with how we respond. The enjoyment of a piece of music is an emotional fact, but the description or belief, "It is a beautiful composition," cannot be fact because it is a transitory or variable judgment. One's response that the observed is beautiful does not make the music or art a "fact" of beauty. Beauty or ugliness cannot be a "fact" because it is "in the eye of the beholder" and not a direct experience. However, the occurrence of a judgment IS a fact.

     One sees one's child laughing and feels joy. Emotions (affects) unquestionably are direct experiences and, therefore, facts. Perceiving one's child laugh also is a fact. In this context, we frequently hear statements using the word "make," such as, "Seeing my child laugh MAKES me feel joyful." If something "makes" one feel an affect, the emotional response derives from an interpretation ("fiction") of the perception leading to the emotion. In this case, seeing one's child laugh may lead to the encouraging thought, "My child must be happy." The thought itself is "fact," but the interpretation that the child IS happy may not be; therefore, it is, by the definition in this essay, a "fiction." For example, the child's laughter may be an instinctual or nervous response to some hidden stimulus.

     An intuition (or hunch) is a direct experience of a conclusion drawn from a set of observations, some or all of which may not be conscious. The data contributing to the intuition and the intuition itself are facts, but what about the content of the intuition? If we intuit that a teetering object is about to fall, that hunch is but a thought and any discussion would sound the same as that above regarding thoughts or ideas. The primary factor that distinguishes an intuition from a thought, idea, opinion, or conviction is that one experiences an intuition as referring to a probabilistic - not an absolute - event. To intuit that the teetering object will fall is to also accept that it might not. If one's intuition has turned out to be accurate in the past, one might wager high odds that the expected will occur. Generally speaking, when one has a thought, idea, opinion, or conviction, one "knows for certain" that it will happen; a wager might be considered ludicrous, because the outcome is already "known." In either case, the content of the intuition, thought, etc. is "fiction." The only time the teetering object's falling becomes a fact is when we observe it during or after its fall.

     There is no doubt that when an inner critical part of ourselves says, "You shouldn't have done that," the comment is what one "hears" and therefore is a fact. But how can we determine the truth of whether or not we should or shouldn't "have done that?" If we are identified with the inner Child and assume the comment to be God's truth, the fiction is found in our gullibility and unquestioning belief, which subsequently is likely to lead to the feeling of guilt. The guilty feeling is a fact arising out of the fictional assumption that "you [actually] shouldn't have done that." Note, therefore, that facts lead to fictions, but the processed fictions also lead to consequent facts of experience. Once the "shouldn't" statement is taken as true and guilt becomes established, anything that follows it, such as any dire predictions or sense of dread - although, as thoughts and feelings, they too are experiential facts -- are fictional, processed interpretations of the original comment. In other words, the fact of feeling guilty can give rise to the fiction that there is something to dread.

     Consequently, it seems that facts and fictions may be concatenated events (like a chain in which links of "fact" alternate with "fiction" links). My fantasies tell me the chain of events could be of indefinite length, lasting all or much of one's lifetime. Perhaps it sometimes does! But the concatenated pattern can produce insidious results. For example, you hear a noise in the house (fact). An inner voice says, 'It's a burglar" (fiction). You feel fear (fact). An inner voice says, "There's nothing you can do, except call the police, if the burglar hasn't cut the phone line ... but if you call the police, the burglar will kill you" (fiction). Your fear turns to terror and you act as if you're asleep, waiting for the "burglar" to leave; after some time, you get out of bed and inspect the house. No one is there and nothing appears to be missing (fact). Still, you "know" someone was in the house (fiction). Each night thereafter, you find it difficult to fall asleep (fact). You attribute sleeplessness to your certainty (a belief manufactured by a convincing inner complex) that the burglar will return (fiction).

     To distinguish fact from fiction can be difficult, if not impossible, when one assumes that whatever comes into consciousness must be true. A thought that pops into one's head is no different from an intruder who breaks into one's home. If a stranger broke into your home unannounced and uninvited, it is highly unlikely that you would automatically assume that the interloper belongs in your house and also insist that he/she receive your full support and care. Yet, when a thought, idea, or opinion appears in consciousness, it is often automatically accepted as if it belongs there and vigorously defended as a truth.

     If we pay close attention, we can tell the difference between what are facts and what aren't. To expand consciousness, we are challenged by the task of differentiating facts from the processed fiction derived from those facts. Here are a few questions that we can ask ourselves to aid in becoming more aware of what we do with facts:

• What precisely is my direct experience (fact)? More specifically, what are my feelings and sensations? What thoughts, ideas, or insistences do I "hear" from inside my mind or from others?
• What opinions and/or beliefs are formed?
• What assumptions are made?
• What conclusions are drawn?
• What meaning is assigned to the facts?
• How much would I wager and what odds would I give that the assigned meaning is valid and the conclusions are accurate? (If not 100% certain, what are the doubts?)
• By what mental process are a set or series of facts connected?
• To what behaviors do these operations lead?

     Distinguishing "fact" from "fiction" may be an essential factor not only in achieving a sense of inner balance but also for developing and maintaining successful, trusting, harmonious, and fruitful relationships with others. When we believe that a random or derived thought ("fiction") is true, communication can become distorted and we may lose credibility in the eyes of others, as well as making a serious dent in our own self-confidence.

     For me, differentiating "fact" from "fiction" supports the achievement of my primary life's motivation, namely, consciousness leading to inner peace, a sense of wholeness, and the best possible quality of life.