Walk in the Woods

Nik Curfman 8/22/21 Nik Curfman 8/22/21

Abstract: Death, A Sweet Friend #2

I’ve watched a lotta people scream at Death,

watched them blabber into the night ‘bout justice and God’s plan.

I’ve seen people walk away from Jesus because their childhood sweetheart suffered cancer,

to the final bitter end.

And, I’ve watched mothers wail as they lay their babies in the ground.

I’ve watched a lotta people scream at Death,

watched them blabber into the night ‘bout justice and God’s plan.

I’ve seen people walk away from Jesus because their childhood sweetheart suffered cancer,

to the final bitter end.

And, I’ve watched mothers wail as they lay their babies in the ground.

Every death affects someone,

for even a prison falls silent when an inmate is set free.

The constant reality of death, by the view of a few,

seems to negate the Power of tongues,

and Him.

But, this need’nt be so.

If every prayer to restrain the Visitor were answered,

and every life prolonged,

there’d be ten billion people on the planet,

and slavery, and women as property, and kings,

who rule over you and me.

Somethings only die when we do,

yes, it’s part of His plan too.

For when I die,

I take all my hurt and lies with me,

but the best of me will live on.

This is the way it is,

cliche as it is.

Nik Curfman 10/20/20 Nik Curfman 10/20/20

Abstraction: It’s Not Fair

Dirty, ugly, uncertain, weak, impulsive, indecisive, spoiled, flakey, arrogant, demanding, spineless, cruel, angry, boring, dickish… whatever label we accept and stick our souls are not from Him.

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It’s not fair to invite someone into our chaos,

It’s not a sin, but it is asking a lot.

When we don’t know who we are, where we are going,

We demand a lot of faith related to things worth knowing.

But…

Who among us is without sin,

Who of us has life wrapped up, nothing to be forgiven?

Absolutely, life is not fair- how we treat others, the reflection of the unfairness we aim at ourselves.

Dirty, ugly, uncertain, weak, impulsive, indecisive, spoiled, flakey, arrogant, demanding, spineless, cruel, angry, boring, dickish… whatever label we accept and stick our souls are not from Him.

His words are of love, yes and amen.

He doesn’t demand fairness or count the cost.

He said we are worth it, and paid with with His life lost.

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Nik Curfman 10/17/20 Nik Curfman 10/17/20

Abstraction: The Rebel Returns

My soul wants to live, to be foolish, to challenge the impossible.

And I can’t do that on my own. That’s why I’m headed home.

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He isn’t an extravagant sinner. He is me.

For I too am a prodigal son, walking the dusty road back home.

I took my talents and my energy, and I spent them on the dreams I thought I needed.

I struggled to be a million things I could never be.

I’ve got my Father’s genes, my Father’s heart.

I could never be happy running numbers and counting coins.

My soul wants to live, to be foolish, to challenge the impossible.

And I can’t do that on my own. That’s why I’m headed home.

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Nik Curfman 10/7/20 Nik Curfman 10/7/20

A: Is the Sun Silent

I closed my eyes to push the tears down my face.

No. He doesn’t care about quality or pedigree. And, I am not alone.

He hugs my heart, speaks wisdom to my mind, and purpose to my soul.

This is light and life.

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I sat on the dewy grass to stare at the sun as it set beyond the mountains.

Another day nearly done.

I wondered if the sun makes sound.

After all, it is a firey ball of exploding gases.

Or perhaps is works in silence as it showers us with light and life?

My thoughts faded as it dipped below the mountain tops.

And as the last glimpses of the day held on, my mind turned to God.

For a few cold moments, I felt abandoned.

Why?

To know God, to have faith, and still to doubt.

This is human.

Lord, where are you? I asked in a whisper.

Finally, I heard His voice.

I am here, He whispered back.

I feel empty. Like a failure. Again.

His answer surprised me.

I asked you to stay with Me, and you did.

You continue to show up. And, I’m proud of you.

I do not measure you with a ruler and checked boxes.

I do not judge you by your failures or careless words.

I relish your open heart and you honor Me with your dedication.

This is your success.

Now, finish whatever you start.

Do not fear the middle of the trip.

And do not look to the next step, rather focus your heart and mind to task at hand.

I closed my eyes to push the tears down my face.

No. He doesn’t care about my quality or pedigree. And, I am not alone.

He hugs my heart, cleanses my mind, and gifts my soul with purpose.

This is the sound of eternal Light and Life.

He is no silent Son.

Nik Curfman 10/3/20 Nik Curfman 10/3/20

A: Come With Me

Nah. I can’t go back. I won’t. I left my fears on the porch, and they will rust there.

I know what I look like, wandering around out here in the fog.

I look silly.

Yes! You can come with me.

Please! Join me out here in the fog of the Great Unknown.

Yes, I understand. The house is comfortable. Very comfortable indeed.

But…it is also a place of idealism, judgment, and perpetual lack. Right?

Are you happy with that?

Nah. I can’t go back. I won’t. I left my fears on the porch, and they will rust there.

Yep. I know what I look like, wandering around out here in the gray fog.

I look silly.

But He is here too.

He uses a wonky walk to get me to laugh, and guides my steps

He’s given me faith, divine purpose, and grace.

So yeah, the Fog is now my home and my Shelter- my source of life and love.

And I?

I am the me I could never be, back at that old house.

Nik Curfman 9/28/20 Nik Curfman 9/28/20

A: My Morning Walks Are Not Routine

I walk early each morning because I expect in faith to be met by Jesus. His arrival is no less spectacular, even though it is expected.

No one encountering God can call it boring. And is never routine.

Routine, a fixed action, is nothing special. It is the slow drone of the flat but necessary functions of life.

To the outside judge, my predawn rise probably looks routine.

I shut off my alarm, make my bed, and dress for the weather. Not yet fully awake, I grab my water bottle and lace my dusty yellow sneakers.

Six or seven minutes later, I walk down a well worn path to a trail lined with oaks and the occasional Foothill Pine.

I require no headphones and desire no human companion on these morning walks, although I do enjoy the kindness of those I encounter.

Seems rather ordinary I suppose, to the outsider. Boring even. It is the downfall of the judge, never living, never knowing the fullness of life is in the doing.

What looks dull and unremarkable is anything but.

While I desire no human interaction, I am not alone. He is with me. And we talk. A lot.

In this space I find gratitude, peace, and the ability to move into the stillness of the unknown.

Further down the path, my mind becomes quiet. I listen to the robins tweet and squirrels shout warnings to one another as I pass.

I practice being present, and in it I am able to enjoy the subtle yet constant change of the natural world around me:

The death and resurrection of wild flowers.

The constant preparation of the squirrels for winter.

And the daily change of the time and path of the sun.

No. There is nothing routine in this dedication. Wonder is present in the daily progression of the seasons, and each season offers a new joy.

My body also bares the fruit of my labor, my legs slimmer, my waist thinner, and my mind clearer. Most especially, my heart is full of His glory.

I walk early each morning because I expect in faith to be met by Jesus. His arrival is no less spectacular, even though it is expected.

No one encountering God can call it boring. And is never routine.

Nik Curfman 9/24/20 Nik Curfman 9/24/20

A: Two Good Feet

That ain’t nearly the most bizarre thing, these people hopin’ on one leg with a perfectly good one flappin’ loose.

Some people ain’t even doin’ that! Some people got two perfectly good feet, but they’d ratha’ crawl on their bellies.

I seen a lotta people tryna jump ‘round on one foot.

Up and down the sidewalk and out in the middle of the street, people hopin’.

Some people got a right leg they use, an’ others use the left.

They cranky tho’. Don’t they know they got two feet?

That ain’t nearly the most bizarre thang, these people hopin’ on one leg with a perfectly good one flappin’ loose.

Some people ain’t even doin’ that! Some people got two perfectly good feet, but they’d ratha’ crawl on their bellies.

They in the street, yellin’ and holler’in. Screamin’ at damn near everybody hopin’ pass.

Makes no sense. Why?

Don’t they kno’ they two good legs ‘ttached to two good feet?

“Use ya’ damn feet man!” I wanna scream. Poor wretches.

Makes me say grateful things to the Doctor. Cause then I sure’member. Me on my belly, then one the foot. It’s good I don’t fo’get.

Now I uses both my feet, and I walk with a stride. I’m faster than I ever was befoe.

When I was on my belly, I didn’t have love for an’one. Nope. Not a soul. On I crawled, mad at the worl’. I hated me.

After I met the Doctor, I got religion. An’ I tried to love people. But that hurts, all these people crawlin’ and hopin’ all over.

Sometimes I’d go see the Doctor. An’ He said if I kept showin’ up, I’d learn howda walk. But I had to hop first.

So I hopped. An’ hopped. An’ hopped. An’ I fell a bunch. The Doctor was good fo’ me when I saw Him, when I made time.

The more I tried to love people on dis’ one foot, more I fell.

Then one day I had e’nuff hopin’. I said Lord, what am I doin’ wrong? I’m so afraid, an’ ever’thang I try, I can’t do.

Bein’ a good Doctor, He swept me up in His big ‘ol arms. An’ He pointed at my other foot. “Time to learn to walk.”

“You have got to love you. No once else can do for you what I made for you alone to do for you.”

Just like that I put down that foot I never used befo’. ‘Twas shaky at first. Felt like tha’ groun’ was moving.

Now I walk mighty fine. I got that bal’ance- right, lef’, right, lef’.

Love Him, Love Me, Love Him, Love Me. An’now I can Love others.

No mo’ hopin’ and crawling, fallin’ and getting stuck‘n the mud.

Nik Curfman 9/12/20 Nik Curfman 9/12/20

Abstraction: Cut by the Glass

This one picture held everything I thought I wanted, I loved. And old sorrows rose as I fixed my eyes on the screen. They got everything they wanted. Used me up. Left me to bleed. I wanted to argue, and spit, and scream.

A flick of my thumb, like a roll of this dice, I never know what will come.

The scroll stopped on a black and white photo of a restaurant. A woman worked behind the counter. My former future taunting me as I stared.

This one picture held everything I thought I wanted, I loved. And old sorrows rose as I fixed my eyes on the screen.

They got everything they wanted. Used me up. Left me to bleed. I wanted to argue, and spit, and scream.

A moment later, anger gave way to dejection as I put the glass down. Surges of sadness flooded my heart.

I closed my eyes and wept. I loved her. I loved her, I loved her, I loved her. I still love her. I can’t stop loving her. I can’t stop hoping the best for her, hoping she’s happy.

After a few deep breaths, I let silence fill the room.

I waited for the Voice above all voices, and He did not disappoint.

“I am here…Would you go back?”

No.

“Do you trust me?”

Yes.

“Good.”

Simple as that, I laid my broken heart in His hands. A practice now routine between us, I gave the Lord all my suffering, desires, and judgments.

And like He’s done a hundred times before, He washed away all that would drag me back to what I was. Back to the me before I divorced my fear.

The sadness of an unwelcome end is not to be ignored. The wounds of suffering either fester or heal, but they never fade anyway. And I will not bandage myself in the false wisdom of self-protection.

I will allow myself to bleed and weep before Him, creating room for Him to work miracles.

My heart healed, pumping to the rhythm of joy, I think back to the glass. The resentment and heartache now vanished, replaced by peace and love.

I hope they continue on toward their great destinies. I head toward mine.

Nik Curfman 9/10/20 Nik Curfman 9/10/20

A: Love Reveals Purpose

Day after day, I slogged my way back to the table. Night after night, I meditated on whether I should return. Having traveled enough roads, and sat at many tables, I knew I didn’t have the heart to win this game.

I once wondered blind, straining to hear kind voices.

My hands cut off and eyes removed, my only option was to follow the direction of the voices down one empty road and up another. I dragged my heart behind me, refusing to touch it. It was ugly. Dust and muck and crusty memories clung to me. On I marched, in search of rest from my filthy condition.

My hopes stood on the shoulders of the voices. Oh what sweet voices they were. Warm, encouraging, well-intentioned voices. And they belonged to warm, encouraging, well- intentioned men and women. Giving people. Compassionate people. Yet every map they gave and every encouragement made led to the another dead end.

I hold not a sin against them for their efforts. I asked and they answered as well as their wisdom allowed.

Eventually my search took me beyond secure into risk. The wisdom in this venture was not in the doing but in the being. As I sat at this table, crippled as always, I found no solace or purpose, my heart tucked up under my chair. The longer I sat at the table the more I battled to remain. In my mind I played a game. Should I win this game, then, and only then, might I have the chance to rest. To heal. To be me. No. I had to stay glued to my seat. I had to win this game.

Late one evening, I found myself looking into a mirror, drawn by the One who is the mirror. Obvious for the first time to me then, as it may be to you, is I indeed have eyes. And hands. And my heart is where it need be, in my chest. The layers of grime and shame gone. What was this? A trick? All of my life was, until that moment, a series of failed journeys and disappointment.

Then the Mirror began to speak. Having nothing left and no where to go, I listened.

“I love you. I am in love with you. And I command you to love you as I love you. Look at yourself through my eyes- not broken or used up. You are beautiful and strong. Brave and creative. Relax. Let your feet follow me, and I will give you the Peace and Joy you want.”

All the voices faded into silence as I carefully considered the Lord’s offer. I studied the choices in my head. The streets I traveled, I knew. I knew their promises and the danger in believing in such promises, and the tables they led to. What the God of Love and Grace offered me was a chance to be me, to cut my own path.

So here I sit, powered by love, chopping my way through another day. I no longer walk the paved roads of another’s calling. I no longer listen to the kind voices of my friends. Through love and devotion, I found my way. My beautiful heart is finally at peace.

Nik Curfman 9/8/20 Nik Curfman 9/8/20

A: Not Every Day is a Winner

The title of this poem is a lie. I’m not conceding shit to my enemy. More importantly, I am choosing to allow Jesus to be the Prince of Peace, the author of my Life, and holder of my soul. I am not my own. I am His. And I am worth the victory.

I sat down to write about how today, this Tuesday in early September, isn’t going my way.

My brain is obsessed with situations I can’t affect, a customer is nervous about her campaign results, a friend has cancer. In truth, this is an ordinary day. I am strong, healthy, loved, appreciated, and lavished with opportunity. What possess me to look and greive today?

And people say evil doesn’t exist. But it does. It does when a man has every blessing yet can’t find peace. Yes. Evil is real. Its only goal to separate us from Him.

JESUS, thank you for my life. Thank you for loving me, even when I'm stuck being a twat. Even when I focused on me, you never fail. In fact I suppose you laugh, as I chase my tail. My troubles not trivial but momentary.

I lay down every desire and hope, every dream and fantasy, every source of security and joy. For You are all of those things, and inside my striving is nothing but more struggle and death. And I am no boy.

The title of this poem is a lie. I’m not conceding shit to my enemy. More importantly, I am choosing to allow Jesus to be the Prince of Peace, the author of my Life, and holder of my soul. I am not my own. I am His. And I am worth the victory.

Nik Curfman 8/24/20 Nik Curfman 8/24/20

A: Beginning

He stared at the blank canvas while the cursor blinked. Patiently it awaited orders. The captain drew a cool breath through his teeth and studied what lie ahead.

“It is easy to begin a trek, when my pride isn’t on the line,” he conceded to the cold empty room.

“It is easier to follow, to hide in the shadow of another, a bold one, willing to smash through the wind when it blows. What if I fail? What if my words are dull, my sentences boring, and my story too colorless for anyone to notice it? Yes. It easier to fail at the tasks handed to me by another. But to fail at this?”

The terror exposed, the captain readied his troops. Carefully he placed each finger into formation on the keys. “This is not a small battle. It’s not a sprint. There will be no flash of brilliance,” he declared. Today marks the first of many. Whatever joy produced will be from the commitment and the doing.

Faithfully he typed, A: Beginning.