Some of my first lessons about reality came while living across the country. It was during my late twenties, a time when I believed I knew everything there was to know about life. I was living in California, where I was exposed to an entirely different world beyond Mississippi. My perception of reality changed daily simply by meeting people from all walks of life. There’s just something edifying about living beyond the 30-mile radius in which you were raised. I encourage everyone to do it at least once, if they can.

I’ve learned a lot about people throughout this country, and I’ve found one common theme: people are utterly confusing. I’ve often been guilty of categorizing others just to make sense of them, but if only it were that simple. Although we are simple creatures, we’ve become complex beings. It’s hard to find common traits when our traits have become so uncommon.

We all know the parable of the glass of water: it’s either half full or half empty, depending on your perspective. Seeing is believing, but believing is a choice. In the same vein, seeing is a sensory experience. Once your eyes capture an image, your brain interprets it.
From there, facts often become opinions. Consider this: 1 and 1 make 2, but 1 and 1 also make 11. Everything is a frame of reference.

But what does it all mean? What are the facts, if any, in this thing we call reality? Let’s start with love. Not the surface-level love of having a sweet spot for Mike and Ike candies (don’t judge me, I know it’s a problem). I mean the kind of love that knows no boundaries. For me, that comes in the form of a 130-pound Newfypoo named Ollie.

Ollie doesn’t have a stance. He doesn’t hold opinions about everyday life. He tries to love everyone, and his measure of worth is simple: are you decent or are you not?

It’s easy to appear decent, but it’s telling how a dog can sniff out when it’s disingenuous. The world offers many forms of decency as armor: good deeds, church attendance, volunteer work, public prayer. How good we look when our benevolence is on display!
Sometimes it’s like watching a bad play: you know it’s a performance. So what’s behind the curtain? What are we saying or doing that doesn’t match our character? What’s reality?

Regardless of what law or religious text says, some things are simply wrong. Hate, racism, bigotry, partisanship, and all the “-isms” that divide us lack one inherent trait that even a dog can perceive: human decency.

We’ve allowed our rose-colored glasses to become tinted red or blue. Apathy has replaced empathy in the name of being right. Of course our reality is diluted – why wouldn’t it be? Look no further than those who lead: congressmen, presidents, pastors, heads of schools, coaches, teachers. Their words are deemed pure only by those who believe them. Somewhere along the way, the litmus test became multiple choice.

We don’t get to choose how others see things or perceive them. Facts don’t always matter, and even if they did, they quickly become opinions. All the world’s a stage – or better yet, a reality show. The question we must ask ourselves is this: do I often forget my lines, or does my character need no script?

You can’t fake decency. Just ask Ollie. It’s very real. It’s actually what most of us are remembered by, and that’s a point we should never forget. When it’s all said and done, no one will remember if you were red, blue, black, or white – or which hill you chose to die upon. Hate is pedestrian; it requires a script. Decency is full of improv, and it elevates us all.

We should all forget our lines and never postpone our decency, because the future is certainly real, but the past is all made up.

Clay Bowen is a Columbus native who cooked professionally as a chef in fine dining for 12 years and appeared on the third season of Top Chef. He is also a licensed landscape horticulturist. Email him at [email protected].

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