When Hitting "Upload" Becomes Connection

I never expected that launching a YouTube channel would feel this rewarding this quickly. "Echoes of Curiosity" began as a quiet idea — a gentle urging to share stories, reflections, and the spiritual threads that have shaped my life. But in those first days of posting, something unexpected happened: I felt a genuine connection forming.

Each time I see that another person has viewed an episode, it feels like a small light turning on somewhere in the world. Someone clicked. Someone listened. Someone stayed. I’m grateful for every single one. What has surprised me most is how meaningful it feels to engage with viewers. Today I received a thoughtful, heartfelt comment from a new subscriber, and responding to her felt like the beginning of a conversation rather than a transaction. It reminded me that behind every view is a person with their own story, their own curiosity, their own longing for connection.

I want to build a channel where people feel seen. Where comments aren’t just acknowledged, but welcomed. Where the conversation continues long after the video ends. Because I do crave conversation as I'm sure many of my readers and viewers do. That's what I thought long ago when I reached out with this blog. Since starting it in 2009, I've had 27,102 visitors to "Eating Words" but overall, not much in regards to engagement in the form of comments. And I get it. With both Blogger and YouTube, people may not wish to comment publicly as these are both platforms in which the engagement can be public, as they are accounts that are accessible by anyone. But get this. Creating content has awakened a part of me that had been quietly waiting for years — the storyteller, the teacher, the spiritual wanderer. Filming, editing, shaping each episode… it’s work, yes, but it’s also play. It’s discovery. It’s a new way of expressing the same curiosity that has guided me through so many chapters of my life. And the best part is that I’m learning as I go. Every episode teaches me something new about the process, the platform, and myself.

I'm not quite sure where this journey will lead, and I don’t need to consider that. This is about the moment. Right now, I’m simply grateful — for the views, for the comments, for the courage to begin, and for the quiet joy that comes from sharing something authentic.

Echoes of Curiosity is still in its infancy, but already it feels alive. The connection is real.

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)