Walk in the Woods

Nik Curfman 10/19/22 Nik Curfman 10/19/22

Vol III: #25 Baguettes and Childlike Wonder

When I was a child I assumed I would feel like an adult at some magical point in the future. Adults were wise and powerful. They had money and gum, drove cars, and went to work. More simply, to be an adult meant to have the antidote to all the frustrations of being a child. Right? Isn’t that what most of us believed?

Oh, young Nik. What a load of crap. Cue Cher’s hit: If I Could Back Time

Childlike. Childlikeness.

Jesus said “if you can’t be like one of these kids, you’re gonna have a bad time.”As ever, He’s right.

When I was a child I assumed I would feel like an adult at some magical point in the future. Adults were wise and powerful. They had money and gum, drove cars, and went to work. More simply, to be an adult meant to have the antidote to all the frustrations of being a child. Right? Isn’t that what most of us believed?

Oh, young Nik. What a load of crap. Cue Cher’s hit: If I Could Back Time

If I could turn back time, if I could find a way
I'd take back those stupid beliefs that've hurt you, you'd stay a child forever
If I could reach the stars, I'd give 'em all to you
Then you'd know the King of Patience is your friend,
If I could turn back time

Since my return from Europe I endeavored to make French baguettes. And, I’m humbled by the process. Five times I attempted to make a proper baguette. Five times I successfully produced something more like a brick than bread. And, my frustration grew with each failed attempt: I’m a damn good cook, but I can’t bake for shit. Trader Joe’s has a decent baguette for $1.99. It’s not as delicious as a proper French baguettes but it’s good enough. But then, in manner defying myself, I said decided to continue the education process. I chose to be childlike.

Children learn to walk and talk and wipe themselves, usually without self-shaming. No matter how many times they fall, a child will pull themselves up and keep going. How simple and profound an approach. And, isn’t this the attitude the Lord wants from us; to remain humble and eager? I think so. Screw being an adult. They are bitter and rigid and make excuses for their failures.

Part of being a child is maintaining a certain humility toward life and remaining teachable. And it’s a good approach toward a life of repentance. Because, the hardest part of repentance isn’t the recognition of what’s wrong or broken. The hardest part of repentance is learning the “right way” to live. I think this what Jesus meant by be as a child- to stay eager and curious, to leave the scorekeeping to the adults. It’s a frustrating process but worth the effort.

Nik Curfman 6/14/22 Nik Curfman 6/14/22

Abstract: School Days

A poem, about what shaped my approach to school.

I sat at my desk and picked at a flap of dead skin still connected to my thumb,

the boy beside me thumbed through a skater magazine,

and the girl beside him twirled gum on her finger while she stared at the ceiling.

All of the other students carried on small conversations except the front row.

They sat upright with clean notebooks, and uncapped pens at the ready.

Another first day of school.

Years later, I asked myself “why did you hate school?”

Yes, by the third grade, I had enough bad experiences to justify the stance.

But ,why did I hate it from the beginning?

Day One, August 1985, Ms. Dawkins’ morning kindergarten class at North Springs Elementary school: hated it.

All I can remember are the words of a few older kids in my young orbit: school sucks.

And so, before I ever set foot in a school, I thought it was suppose to suck.

The teachers were suppose to be angry and rude- some were and some were not.

The subjects were to be boring and difficult to master- some are and some ain’t.

And the other kids are suppose to want to fight and cuss and steal- some did, most did not.

Poor little Nik.

He was so pushed around by strong opinions and harsh words.

To him, what carried weight and thusly importance,

were words of bitterness or anger.

Oh, what I regret the most- and only the Lord can heal- is what I let into my soul as a child.

Fortunately, the beat goes on. And, school is never closed.

Everyday is a day to grow and learn and find wonder,

for we were born in a place we will never fully understand.

Nik Curfman 2/10/21 Nik Curfman 2/10/21

Abstract: My Audience Of One

Then He takes my scribbles and sticks,

Using one of the many magnets on the big ass fridge next to the Throne,

And places my childish creation where everyone will see.

He’s my audience of One.

(There’s a sad time,

Between being an innocent boy and a guilty man,

When a young soul is crushed from who it is,

Into the mold of what it should be.

When scribbles on paper are no longer a source of joy,

When the lines are critiqued,

And the shading is judged.

The room of joy, the art room, becomes a lab.

Imagination replaced by standard production.

Each product held against the rest.

Never of its own.)

The judges are never louder than when I’m alone.

Years churn,

Attempts are made.

New tubes of paint lay unused,

And rasps turn to rust.

A thousand inspirations forever unseen, forever vanished into eternity.

I feel too unworthy to try, and condemned in my waste of what could be.

Does a cave of abandonment exist,

Free of the court and galley,

The lab and the showroom floor?

Where it’s just me?

Yes.

It’s called the Throne Room.

It’s bright and lined with white columns.

At the far end is where He is.

And big ass refrigerator.

That big ass refrigerator next to the seat where He sits,

It’s covered with magnets.

And He’s waiting while I work.

He’s waiting to smile and pat me on the head.

He’s waiting to say “well done son, I know where this is going.”