Walk in the Woods

Nik Curfman 8/22/23 Nik Curfman 8/22/23

Abstract: The Can And The Beach

A poem, about the contrast of what men make and value versus creation.

The frustrated man kicked his can down the street,

fuming as he went,

Why had he wasted his years obeying his fears,

and denied the power stored within.

Onward he kicked the now scratched and crinkled can,

up the alley toward the melody and glaring lights from the corner.

As alley gave way to avenue, the drifter paused to observe the action:

Diners slurping noodles and beer, chatting about culture and news of the day.

He could’ve joined them.

Yes, he thought of grabbing the stool next to the bar,

Of ordering dim sum from the waiter dressed in denim and sporting a cropped beard.

But, he doesn’t like beer or pride or being measured.

So, he crossed the street, can at his feet,

into the shadow.

He ambled west over the ridge toward the beach,

past giggling wino’s, concerned parents, and coked-up partiers,

until his feet felt fine sand beneath them.

The rhythm and thunder of the waves pushed all the world aside,

and he stood in awe as each of his five senses awakened.

Ordinary by definition but no less powerful or captivating.

He closed his eyes in reverence to the Creator, pulling the salty aroma into his nose,

and listening to the waves smack the rocks and spray foam on the shore.

And for a moment he turned back to the city and thought of its temptations and allure.

A sea breeze blowing at his back.

Then he looked down at the can, dented and scraped.

Nik Curfman 9/29/22 Nik Curfman 9/29/22

Vol III: #20 Head Up Not Head Down

There are choices we make when we are young and unaware of the consequences of our choices. Though the choices greet us everyday, we are pushed to one side or the other by parents and teachers and the culture surrounding us. We fidget and think simple thoughts and follow. Before we know it, we walk and talk like those around us. And, we live a life of self-defeat and frustration.

I heard an old man talk about his children, how he worried for his teenage daughters alone at home. His mind raced and created the worst outcomes. How could he be so foolish? He was their father and protector. How would they survive without his presence? When he’d finally pulled into the drive way, his fears fell away. No signs of a break-in. No blood. His girls were safe as normal.

After decades of these moments, of expecting the worst and planning for grief, the old man dared asked does it have to be this way? Through an old friend his question was answered, no. You do not need to live in fear of life. And so, the gray-haired man put his feet on the other path, the one he missed as a child.

The truth is life will try to steal, kill, and destroy every good thing. But, we need not trudge our way through life, head down and depressed. Whatever happens in our lives, what we choose is how we live. We can dance and laugh and look for the sun every morning regardless of the onslaught to come. Or we can shelter in the back room waiting for every evil thing to rip us apart.

And this is the secret, to choose life and joy, to look foolish in the storms and peace among our enemies. The grief will come, so what? God is still good. Joy is always real and peace is meant for the lowest moments.

Lord, I laugh at my mistakes and anxieties.

I am daily your delight,

You delight in me and who I am.

And, I will grab onto You every morning.

Whatever comes, I will show my face to Yours,

and receive Your love and word.

Nik Curfman 5/5/22 Nik Curfman 5/5/22

Abstract: Intention

A poem, about the power of intention and our choices.

What is it to choose?

Our clothes for the day’s work,

Our food at breakfast- yes to eggs, but no a banana,

or the people we will text and to what end.

Regardless of our rationale or excuses,

our choices, our intention, reveals something about us.

It is not the whole picture, mainly because the multitude of humanity chooses what they must do,

rather than choose to be who they are and what they are.

I consider myself blessed,

By God and His hand,

though poor by most standards and unwed by every measure,

I decide who I am, without the normal excuses afforded to my piers in middle age.

I can feel their laden eyes burn through the back of my soul,

“Just you wait,” they scoff.

“Wait for marriage and kids and bills.”

I can only smile back.

They are correct, if I choose to live my life they way they do,

I will come to the same dead-end of living a life of “what I should do.”
I will look tired and cast my frustration on the “system” or some anonymous collective of bastards “out to get me.”

Or…I will decided to live and be a man of purpose and destiny,

an example to my children, of a man not pissed at what I must do,

but grateful and determined to follow the Lord’s lead,

with great joy and waves of laughter.

Nik Curfman 11/27/20 Nik Curfman 11/27/20

Journal: #130 Keep Showing Up

So today, as with most days in 2020, I will sit before the Lord. I will confess my doubts and disappointments out of faith. The mountain will move and the road will be made straight. When the time comes tomorrow, I’ll do it again. I will use the power of my words to tell Jesus how I feel and then partner with Him to move beyond it.

Yesterday I posted my How He Loves story. In an effort to do my best, I must’ve read it a hundred time looking for errors, odd wording, and flow. Each time, I usually found myself in tears. I was caught in the story, of how one moment affects another, and what the Lord can do when He let Him be God.

It’s at moments like this I feel caught up in something far greater than my normal day-to-day pettiness or self-interest. My normal day is spent trying to avoid pain and unpleasant thoughts. While I think about the future, I’m obsessed with my current discomfort. At my worst, I lock up and sink into self-pity. On days like yesterday I know there is something greater than my normal routine. And…I’m starting to tap into it.

New Life

2020 is a remarkable year for me despite the pandemic and a heap of personal failures. It’s the year I decided to pursue the Kingdom as an everyday practice rather than occasional adventure. It’s a small change, but it felt like crossing the Rubicon. I don’t measure my life in the same terms I once did, and I finally found the space to be myself.

In a way, I often feel as though I’m in school. I’m eager to learn and grow. Some subjects are easier to grasp than others, and some lessons are only learned via hands-on training. I’ll use the power of words as an example.

Jesus clearly believed His words held weight. He also believed our words held weight- to give live or deliver death. The comically absurd example He used to demonstrate His point was a the movement of a mountain:

..If anyone says to this mountain, 'Go, throw yourself into the sea,' and does not doubt in their heart but believes that what they say will happen, it will be done for them.
Therefore I tell you, whatever you ask for in prayer, believe that you have received it, and it will be yours.

This concept is not new, the power of the spoken word. The Old Testament bluntly says power of life and death is in the tongue. Jesus, however, added the space for us to partner with the Father. In it, He create a space for God to be God. He made the power of words into an act of faith rather than another measuring stick of our righteousness. It also creates room for potential disappointment or unmet expectations.

Physician, Heal Thyself

I believe the best prayers are the most honest prayers, a fact I often forget. I find myself holding onto self-judgment and shame. Then I try to fix “it.” The answer is more simple and easy (dare I use that word) than I make it. One area I still struggle with is feeling like I have to clean myself before I approach the Lord or other people. My healing is on the other side of confession: Lord, I feel like shit and a failure. Oh, I’m not shit or a failure? You love me and say I’m worthy of love. Ok. I trust that. Thanks.

Not always, but very often it is that simple.

Old Wisdom

For most of my life I thought success and meaning were the gifts of fate or random chance*. I also believed I was a victim of my circumstances. Today, I do not. More than ever, I see life as a series of little choices and daily decisions. We tend to overburden big moments while we devalue the ordinary. But, who I am and my calling are a matter of the little things- my daily walks with the Lord, healthy routines, and loving boundaries. It’s the wisdom of the ant, and the Ancient.

*Some people are born into “better” situations, or inherit wealth, but what are we really talking about? No one can fake running after God, and who your parents are doesn’t matter when it’s just you and Him.