I could write multiple essays about what content creation means to me as a practice.

Firstly, the term itself—content creation. Simple, neutral, undeniably objectively true. That’s something I’ve always appreciated about how language is treated within Western knowledge systems, within science and engineering. In this era of so much misunderstanding and miscommunication, how grateful are we to have this simplicity, this clarity, this undeniable objectivity that exists seemingly inherently in English as applied to science and engineering?

Anyone who expresses creates content.

To you, it may feel like art. To your beloved, it may read like poetry. To your hater, it may read like misinformation. But it is undeniably true that it is content.

Within the word itself is the sense that it contains something—perhaps a nugget of wisdom, a humorous anecdote, a manifesto for a revolution, a procedure for making shortbread cookies. Something contained in the medium you’ve chosen for your content.

It brings front and center your choice in creating that content. Why did you create that particular piece of content? Did you already have the audience in mind as you created it? Did the presence of the audience in your mind change how you showed up in the space of content creation? Did the presence of the camera move something in you that then responded to the camera?

What is this deep yearning to be witnessed that I carry? That perhaps we all carry?

As the content travels the virtual grid of the Internet and garners witnessing eyeballs, are these Internet strangers and their attentive energy already reaching you, already impacting how you show up? How do we show up authentically in the presence of these unknown witnesses? How do we invite Grace in their responses through the presence we embody and how we show up?

It’s a huge world of inner exploration, powered by truly remarkable technology.

Today, my sleep broke at 5 a.m. After soothing some queasiness by gently hugging myself, I got out of bed. I stepped outside to see the dawn sky. My heart softened when I saw Cumin sleeping on a t-shirt of mine that was lying around.

I woke up with a lot of hunger. I acknowledged the really strong physical routine I have maintained and sensed that I needed to up my carb intake. Slow-releasing carbohydrates.

My desire for carbs can bring up a lot for me—past wounding around massive weight fluctuation and binge eating.

How convenient that ChatGPT already has a sense of my routine, enough that I could ask for recommendations on what to eat.

To be honest, though, my body had already signaled the answer to me. Oats.

I wanted nice warm oats, cooked simply in water with a dash of cinnamon and some raisins sprinkled in.

Raisins. Raisins bring a slight contraction. Forgotten memories of being mean to an ex-partner because of how much she loved raisins. Because I wasn’t feeling attraction toward her, and I didn’t know how to express that, didn’t know how to connect with her in her joy. Didn’t know how to fully own my desire to end the relationship.

So unnecessary, that meanness.

Memories locked away in how I relate to these wrinkly dried grapes that fluff up just the right amount when you add them to a pot of thick rolled oats, halfway through their simmering journey.

Today, I felt drawn to playing Agni Parthene, a Greek Orthodox Christian chant.

Oh, so lovely, the sounds!

To have these wonderful sounds fill up my home and my body—containers of my soul—as I witness the most glorious sunrise while feeling satiated.

As I witness the most glorious sunrise while feeling satiated by the bowl of oats.

Contemplating whether my sense of gratitude for how glorious it all feels should be channeled to the sunrise, the singing birds, the magical technology, and the chant.

Or could I send it all to one place?

Is there one direction that all Gratitude and Glory flow freely toward?

Or shall I let it diffuse over everything?

Glory to the Creation or Glory to the Creator?

I don’t know.

Is that choice even accessible to me?

I don’t know.