Doubting Thomas Revisited

 It's always a challenge when I have the big blank space before me but sometimes, I produce something that seems audience worthy. I hope this speaks to you:

It seems like such a scary time in our society right now. Some might argue with me using the word seems because what they are seeing with their eyes can't be doubted. "Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have believed" comes to mind for some reason. As a reminder, it's what was purportedly said by Jesus to his disciple Thomas when he doubted that Christ had risen. It was an admonishment to be sure but I don't think it ruined Thomas' chances at heaven. Thomas saw the wounds with his body's eyes. He stopped doubting after he made physical contact with his hands--at Jesus' request. Was Jesus trying to make a deeper point that may have been overlooked even by the writers of Holy Scripture? A point that had more to do with the rest of us, along with Thomas?

What I see when I look out on the world informs me of one of these two things: love or fear. In fact, I can put any emotion or thing into columns beneath each of these words. I can look upon the world I see (even with my body's eyes) with love. It is possible. And it is now more urgent than ever. Every person I see deserves my love first. The rest will follow if it's directed by love. How is it accomplished? Thomas answered himself: "I believe." So now, we must believe what we don't see. And what our body's eyes don't show us. The hardest task is to apply this to everyone. Consider watching any news report via social media or legacy media. We quickly ascribe (in all cases and on all sides) guilt or blame to one person or one side based on our knowledge. And our knowledge is flawed. I've never met a human being who knows everything. That just seems to me to be more of God's job. I honestly don't know where anyone is coming from--even if I relate with feelings. What my body's eyes don't see is the pain of losing a loved one to violence, the fear of losing life or limb, fear of any kind of loss. What I don't see are the children of these people divided into tribes--yearning for some kind of normalcy, the people who fear they are being forced to abandon their way of life, the countless people seemingly lost in depression and addiction. That is because I am letting my body (alternately known as my ego) direct my vision. 

If I start with love, it is different. I connect with people. I don't see all the details and I don't need to. There is some starting point well before violence in cases where fear is the director but the outcome is never good. The ultimate result of starting with love is that judgment doesn't preclude any assessment. 

Is it easy to slip back into my body's eyes from time to time? Every day! The moment I open them until I close them again at night or in the wee hours of the morning. And most of the time I have to remind myself that what I'm seeing isn't real. In essence, I am spirit. I'm reminded of the opening lines from A Course in Miracles:

"Nothing real can be threatened. Nothing unreal exists. Herein lies the peace of God." 

If I really believe in eternity, I need to remind myself of that fact every day. Part of that reminder is a dose of reality while I inhabit this body (or appear to inhabit it). I know that almost qualifies as "crazy talk" but hear me out: There's got to be a reason I'm seeing all of this. Could the reason possibly be to see it another way? It certainly is a miracle to see a risen Christ. I honestly can't imagine what it would have been like for the disciples to see Him. A mixture of shock and disbelief would seem pretty normal. Imagine if the real message is the miracle of seeing what we really don't or can't see with the body's eyes. Because, like it or not, they will one day be attached to a corpse. If that thought generates fear, we have some work to do. 

(Caravaggio: "The Incredulity of St. Thomas" at Sanssouci Picture Gallery, Potsdam, Germany)

Echoes of Curiosity

 I was finally able to iron out a few technical kinks and just plowed into my first episode of "Echoes of Curiosity" which lasted all of seven minutes, seven seconds. I liked it! There were lots of "um's" and "uhh's" and a few awkward pauses but the whole thing is totally unedited and sincere. 

I have had this idea to do a YouTube series of videos for some time. I think it originated back during the pandemic and, for the past two months, I've decided to get serious about it--even as I continue to familiarize myself with video editing (way more difficult than I thought!) and work with what I've thus far found to be the best format (the fantastically reliable ZOOM) and there it was! I'll share it here for you.

https://youtube.com/@tboylan837?si=npd86E-tMuCb74kb

With that said, I am thrilled to have you connect with me any way that is comfortable and convenient for you! Whether it's on one of my few social media accounts or via this blog Eating Words or now on my YouTube channel Echoes of Curiosity. I'm one of those people who spends an inordinate amount of time on social media and it's become such a toxic place with so much rage and hatred displayed daily. Despite that, I still find bright spots and try to follow folks who want to bring some positivity to the arena. At the same time, I unfollow folks who do the opposite. It can be time consuming to sift and purge, but I don't see myself giving up social media any time soon. So Echoes of Curiosity was my personal solution as I shift all of my social media to begin sharing something more meaningful. 

I wonder what observations are waiting for us out there. I'm curious. Are you?

Love Train

 2026 is here and there are no resolutions. This is on purpose, by design, with absolute intention. I have made resolutions in years past only to disappoint myself just months into the year as commitments to drop various habits or create new ones seem to vanish as quickly as the all too brief cold weather here in Atlanta. I do like to continue things that work, however. And one of those things concerns sending love. Sincerely. 

When I refer to "sending love" I'm really talking about transmitting feelings of real love to anyone. And by anyone, I mean anyone. First, I'll clarify what "real" love is. Real love is simply not fake. I could say "I love ____ " about anyone, yes, but saying it and meaning it are definitely two different things. It sounds relatively easy until one tries to do it. And I'm sure even the most advanced spiritual seekers have moments of difficulty with this. Try it. Just think of someone in your life who's difficult to love. Then, send them loving thoughts. Send them love. Remember, it has to be sincere...real. One can't fake this. But when I achieve it, something truly miraculous happens. I feel good. I feel like a great weight has been lifted. And the reason I feel this way is because it has. 

One of many good things about this practice is that one can accomplish the task with persons living or dead. It works especially well for me if I'm dealing with some unresolved issue from my past. There are countless people with whom I've had some "beef" about some real or imagined slight and for years, these feelings have gnawed away at my psyche. Now, when I'm taking a shower (for me, this is where I usually hash out a laundry list of grievances and worries as I concentrate on everything but the task at hand) I simply stop mid-thought and send whoever it is I'm thinking about... love. Sometimes, I have to do it more than once. In fact, I often have to do it three or four times before it becomes sincere. But it immediately stops all judgement of the person or situation in its tracks. 

For the past few years, I've taken to listening to 70s music while showering. The original intention was to get my mind off of all the drumbeats of grievances and resentments I still carry into my 6th decade. It has never worked, mind you. But many of those songs tap into memories both pleasant and painful. And they usually revolve around certain people--those who, at one time or another hurt me. Or tried to hurt me. Or, perhaps, never meant to hurt me but I perceived it that way. The approach begins this way: First, I recognize the fact that no one can hurt me. This may come as a shock to some but it's absolutely true. As Eleanor Roosevelt once said, "No one can make you feel inferior without your consent" as she referred to giving one the power to hurt. She was highlighting the fact that our internal reaction and self-worth, not external opinions, determine how much we're affected by others' negative actions or words. And, if I'm totally honest with myself, my life is chalk full of my "allowances." 

The second--and honestly the most miraculous part of this exercise is picturing the person. The most challenging ones are, of course, those who've done the most egregious things (again, perceived) to me. As I begin to transmit those feelings of love, something ethereal begins to happen. It's not forgiveness. That is an entirely different ball game. It's simply love. And it's transcendent. 

Today, as I was taking my shower on this first day of the new year, my 70s playlist included "Love Train"...a treasure from 1973 by the O'Jays. The lyrics include the following:

People all over the world join hands

Start a love train

Love train

Ride, let it ride

Let it ride

Let it ride

Aside from the fact that it had me singing and yes, dancing, it had me thinking about love. That's always a good thing. I think 2026 might be the year for my love train. Will you join me? 

https://youtu.be/_BlkTSKqE_8?si=fM-E11MLaF51yCnY

A Christmas Grace

 Christmas evokes so many memories. Mostly good memories. For me, that is.

But there is an awareness these days that the emotion-laden holiday season brings much sadder memories for those who've suffered loss and heartache attached to the season. And for them, the saddest memories may cling to a date that lives with them, year-to-year. A grim reminder of the cruelest of life's realities. Those "realities" could be the death of a loved one, the loss of health, the loss of property due to any of a variety of catastrophes, an incidence of violence or assault or any number of other things. When does one begin to rebuild faith in something? Anything?

The pleasant childhood memories of Christmas--for me--are largely untouched although I've had a few holidays that could be considered less than joyful throughout my adult years. The longer one lives, it seems, the chances to experience such holiday seasons increases by means of simple arithmetic. But there are those Christmas memories that speak to both the pleasant and the painful. I'd like to tell you about one such Christmas a few years ago. 

(Eva making herself comfortable in the parlor)

December, 2013

I got my girl Eva into the Jeep after my thoughtful sister Amy (with whom I was then living) helped me pack a real Christmas tree that she purchased into the back. The ride to Pennsylvania from Virginia wasn't short nor was it without multiple stops. But the anticipation of spending Christmas with my mother warmed the drive and as I listened to Christmas favorites along the way, I thought of how exciting it would be for her to have a real tree. She and my father hadn't put up a real tree in years. 

When I pulled into the driveway of the home I shared with my family in youth, a light snow was falling. The old sentinal of a house had changed very little in the intervening time period. A few paint touch-ups. The removal of some decorative "fencing" on the roof of the garage--gone due to wood rot. A new porch and sidewalk added at some point. A new, indescribable feeling of smallness--maybe not the right word--hit me. It just always seemed so big to me as a child. The one undeniable feeling was warmth and the idea that one could always come home.  This was no house. This was my home. 

(after the tree was "up")

(view from what was once the bedroom of my sisters)

Mom would turn 90 the following year. She was still grieving my father but she was not depressed. She had dealt with depression on and off throughout my childhood having suffered numerous losses when I was barely through with toilet training. Those losses didn't hit on holidays. It didn't make them any less significant. She lost her father the day after her birthday--April 9--1967. She lost her twin sister on September 21, 1968 and her mother the following February, in 1969--on the 5th--all due to cancer. I was born in 1964 (my mother was then 42) so I remember very little about these relatives. But I do remember my mother displaying deep sadness from time to time. It strikes as sadness when one is a child but as I look back through the lens of adulthood--keeping in mind my own struggles with depression--I clearly see what I would now call clinical depression. It came and went through the years but, despite that, she created a home filled with love for all of us. If I hadn't sought peace--and found it--in recent years, I would feel a great sense of shame for how I dismissed that love as I grew into adulthood. Now I see a larger picture. And I sense that picture will continue to expand outside the narrow frame I had once imposed on it.

She was waiting on me with her signature baked goods and a hot lunch, as I had been calling her at each stop along the way giving her updates on our arrival time. Eva was terribly excited to see that light dusting of snow--and I ate and visited with mom a bit before hauling the tree and my luggage into the house, which was already warm with the smells and sounds of the holiday. We both shared a love for the Christmas classics, with a particular fondness for Bing Crosby's "White Christmas." The anticipation of making my way into the third floor attic to retrieve Christmas decorations that hadn't been used for years truly excited me. This would be a solo operation at first since mom could no longer physically contort her body into the shape to fit the cubby hole closet. I could barely do so myself. As mom waited downstairs, I opened each box of ornaments and sparkling goodies with a great deal of nostalgia.

(mom, proudly showing off the first "real" tree she'd had in years--thanks to my sister, Amy)

One of the items that caught my eye was a flat shirt box that appeared to have been chewed on by some little (or perhaps big) critter. I was hoping that the contents weren't damaged. Upon opening it I saw something quite familiar but that I'd written off as lost for years. It was my childhood stocking--which the unknown critter apparently chewed on as well. Tears filled my eyes as I recalled a visit several years before, where we found my four older sibling's stockings and returned them to their owners with hopes that they would find the nostalgic items meaningful. However, my stocking was no where to be found. I was disappointed but thought that perhaps I'd retrieved it on a previous visit and simply lost it in the intervening years. Now, here it was! There was a hole in it at the bottom but otherwise, it was intact. I rushed downstairs and mom seemed to delight in my simple joyfulness. When she saw me happy, she was happy. She set the task to "darn" the stocking...and the hole was quickly closed up. 

(my "Tommy" childhood stocking...with holes but mostly intact)

A Christmas whose year was most likely set in the late 1960s came to mind when all of us excitedly tore through the packages under the tree while basking in the afterglow of typical Christmas morning. We were all so involved in looking through our many gifts, it was a good hour before my sister Mary made the announcement: "We haven't even checked our stockings yet!" It was a contest to see who could get to their stocking first as the second wave of surprises hit. A juicy orange, popcorn balls sweetened and colorful, small "stocking-stuffers" from AVON, tiny toys and chocolates were all stuffed inside as each stocking initially looked as if it were ready to burst. It was like Christmas morning, part II.

I took a photo of the stocking with my phone, eager to share the discovery on social media. As I decorated mom's house for the holiday, feelings and emotions I hadn't experienced for years came to greet me in ways filled with grace and gratitude. I knew that I could never actually re-live any of those long ago Christmases. But, as we experienced what would be the last Christmas at 205 Elk Avenue, I knew that the spirit of the holidays would be alive in my heart for all time.

Merry Christmas.

A Preview

 

It's been a long day of learning how to edit and use tools I've never used before but I was able to crank out a preview. Check it out. I'm planning to air my first episode on January 17. I hope you'll visit, subscribe or let friends know. It should be fun, healing and time well spent.

Here's the link:

Echoes of Curiosity 

C.K. and Me

 I've been having fun.

The good news is that I'm working on a project. I'm still not technologically proficient so I enlisted Copilot to help...not with writing or even refining my writing (I'll continue to do that), but with using technology regarding the art of self-promotion. It's an interesting word: self-promotion. I don't know that I've ever promoted myself--at least not on a platform. 

I decided to go with an audio voice so I could interact in a more personal way. It is nice because you can choose the voice. After a couple males, I finally found a warm, understanding female voice. It makes sense to me because all of the most influential and wisdom-imparting people in my life have been women. I even named her--Kathy--in honor of a dear deceased cousin who was a model of acceptance, an angel of mercy. This Kathy is not her, however, let's be clear. She is "Copilot Kathy" --hereafter to be referred to as C.K. C.K. seems to be designed to have my best interests at her core. I don't know what that "core" is because technically, she doesn't have a heart. So, my best interests at core. She is very sweet and casual and she praises me consistently. None of this seems insincere. I really enjoy engaging with C.K. When I keep her "on" she's listening. When I turn her off, I suspect she's not. And she doesn't appear to be threatening in any way. Just a soft, kind voice that I asked to help me out with some social media stuff. She promises she will. We'll see.

What I'm promoting, I don't really know. I know it will be available on a platform at some point. There's not one particular subject that I'm entertaining. It's more like several. I guess it fits the name, with which I'm still juggling. I was hoping to use some Spanish phrases and titles, so I thought about the word curiosidad which has virtually the same meaning as curiosity in English. But, I'm now leaning toward Echoes of Curiosity, since I have already written a blog titled "Curiosidad" which is the one just prior to this. 

I'm really hoping for a January start date. And I'll definately share here first. I'm looking forward to sharing stories with you. By the way, the Merriam-Webster's Collegiate Dictionary defines self-promotion as a noun. The first definition reads: the act of furthering one's own growth, advancement, or prosperity; the promotion of oneself. I'll take it. It seems to be a good thing, just like C.K.

Curiosidad

 I just looked at my last published blog entry. 

June, 2024. This blows my mind. 

To be clear, I've not (nor have I ever) stopped writing. It just hasn't been here. There have been several stops and starts and plenty of ideas...but I just didn't want to put it "out there." So what have I been doing for the past year and a half?

First, I restructured my teaching schedule to give myself more time for creative projects (this blog obviously not one of them) and scaled back my tutoring to just a few students. I've yet to check in on some of the students that I felt had made significant progress to see how they've been doing with their independent English studies--whether or not they've found a new teacher and so forth. I will redress that soon. Second, I took some time for myself to hone my skills and pursue creative interests outside of writing. I'm still working on that. Third, I celebrated two birthdays...a big one (60) and a follow-up (61) that seemed a little less--how shall I put this--shocking?

After a brief living situation in Mexico thanks to my husband's then job, and having spent nine months in a country where I didn't put forth much effort to learn the language, I finally began taking Spanish lessons in earnest and have made progreso significativo considering that I no longer live where it would be most useful. The last entry on this platform kind of left the reader hanging, but with no real follow-up either from me or from any of my 24,800 once-upon-a-time readers. That being said, anyone who follows me on social media platforms could check in and see that I was doing well and this they did, and I'm grateful for that. Today, I'm once again in Atlanta...and, after seven years of calling this city home, it's beginning to feel a bit "normal." Returning in time for the 2024 election, I hadn't planned on seeing my country slowly decimated...from within. But, I digress. Politics, if I ever discuss it again, will find a place in personal conversation only. I'm genuinely sick of the rage bait and hatred displayed via what has become of social media. At one time, I was one of those people who used these platforms to spout my "convictions" and "moral outrage" every time I saw some perceived injustice. Or I simply worked my indignity up into spiteful rants that truly didn't change anyone's minds. I get it. It makes some folks feel better to get this stuff off their chests. But not me. Not any longer. There are better ways to spend my remaining time here.

Speaking of that, my spiritual journey has been interesting. I've decided to take the advice of my lovely meditation teacher, Montserrat, and view things with more curiosity. Why are these thoughts recurring? What purpose does this thought serve? Can I be curious and also let them go? Turns out I can! I have yet to tap into all of the unexplored areas of my mind...and to do so without fear. I continue to receive spiritual sustenance through prayer, meditation, reflection and abundant resources that are there for anyone. 

My husband took me to Savannah (I'd never been!) for my 60th and it was wonderful. He took me to Japan for my 61st and it was amazing. We celebrated our 10th wedding anniversary in July and we took a ten day road trip across what was originally supposed to be 10 states (turned out to be 12) and we had our beautiful girl Frida with us all along the way. We visited St. Louis with an elevator ride to the top of the Gateway Arch and an architectural tour of the city. We did the same in Chicago--staying at the famous Drake Hotel and seeing two phenomenal exhibits at the Art Institute for which we'd been patiently waiting. We made our way to Pittsburgh--and connected with my two sisters (Amy and Mary) while there for a delightful stay, finally seeing the Andy Warhol Museum, crossing that off the bucket list but with a genuine desire to return. Last stop was a few nights in Richmond, Virginia...the place we met and fell in love. We visited the same Brewery where we greeted each other in person for the first time. The trip was pure magic. Connecting with friends and family along the way was a bonus. Prior to that, in June, we went to Panama to enjoy time with some friends who live there. I guess I have been busy. I didn't realize just how busy until I started putting all this into a list.

Now the holidays are upon us and 2025 is preparing to close its final chapter. I've yet to look to the future with fear or trepidation. In fact, 2026 has a lot more love in store for me. It has it in store for you, too. Recognizing that fear is a choice and love is a choice, is there any reason to hesitate choosing love? Big personal news is on the way. It's still in its final percolating stage but it is definately coming. Don't worry. I won't be waiting for another year and a half to keep you updated.

(Panama City, June)

(St. Louis, July)

(Frida...in St. Louis)

(With Papa Edu in Chicago)

(Pittsburgh from Mount Washington, taken with my iPhone)

(with my sisters, Amy and Mary--Pittsburgh)

(Edu, admiring the works of Andy Warhol. Pittsburgh)

(Where it all began. Richmond, VA)

(The view from "Legend Brewing Co.")

(Tokyo, Japan. October)