Pareidolia: why it’s never safe to go upstairs

I have a bad feeling about my stairs.

But it’s not that I’m afraid of tripping on that worn-out carpet.

It’s pareidolia – the ability to detect faces (and various other significant shapes) in random arrangements of inanimate objects.

We all have this ability.

Research with young babies has shown that they’re more interested in face-like arrangements – shapes with two ‘eyes’ and a ‘mouth’ – than other random patterns.

In our evolutionary past, this ability was an advantage. Seeing something and judging in a split second that it ‘looked like a face’ could enable our ancestors to take action in time to avoid a predator.

And if it turned out not to be a predator, well, hey, it didn’t matter. There was no evolutionary disadvantage, apart from a few sniggering stegosauruses thinking you’re a complete wally.

But compared with being the coolest dude which ever got eaten for lunch, leaping away in terror from anything like a face actually seems a pretty smart move.

What use is pareidolia now?

Unless detecting a happy face on a potato or finding a cardboard box kinda cute suddenly become useful life skills for the 21st century, pareidolia may seem irrelevant now.

But it can be more than an irrelevance – this ability can actually be a bad thing.

Where we see faces, we start to imagine significance. Believing that the stains on the wallpaper hold hidden dangers may not do us much harm, although it can limit our experiences and affect our happiness unnecessarily. But if we start to delude ourselves into thinking the tomato sauce on our pizza has a religious message for the world, it’s time to face reality right now.

So, what about my creepy stair carpet?

I’m aware this atavistic fear is irrational. It’s just that part of me isn’t completely convinced it’s safe to go upstairs.

And it’s not just because of the stairs, to be honest.

I don’t even wanna think about the evil world lurking inside my old wardrobe!

Whatever’s in there, it definitely ain’t Narnia.

I’m not saying I’m a pathetic wimp who’s scared of a random arrangement of coloration in the wood.

Me?

No, no, no.

I’m just saying, when we move house, there probably won’t be enough room to fit it in the van.

Not with all my hang-ups to take along!