Walk in the Woods

Nik Curfman 10/24/21 Nik Curfman 10/24/21

Vol II: #39 Back At It Again

I’m not going to hold myself to a set number of posts although I’d like to hit 100 blog posts and similar number of poems, but the number it’s the point. The desire to continue to document my life and hone my writing skills. I believe I can accomplish both without a dogmatic approach; therefore, I may post 2-3 blogs a week or perhaps several poems. The strongest desire in my heart is to keep writing and let it land where it lands.

My last post was two weeks ago, although it seems like less time has passed since then. It’s easily the longest time away from self-published writing in 16 months. And you know what? I don’t care. This blog is about my life and what I think, what I experience- right or wrong. Regardless, I’m happy to be punching the keys for you and me. I’ve got lot’s to write about.

My schedule is busy with work and school, and my roommate returned. So, I am putting some effort in connecting with him as much as possible each day. Then I have my Jesus time, which is essential. Still, this blog serves a purpose and I will that purpose.

I’m happy to be back at it, again.

Nik Curfman 8/6/21 Nik Curfman 8/6/21

Vol II: #12 Real Life Shit

My grieving roommate returns next week, and I’m filled with conflicting thoughts, emotions, and expectations. He left December 11th, exactly eight months from the day he will return. In that span, he buried his father, settled multiple estates, and oversaw repairs to his mother’s house. The poor guy also contracted Coronavirus and had to bury a beloved family dog. So, yeah. He’s had a shit time. I can’t deny or minimize the fire he walked through over the last year.

I need prayer y’all.

In my heart, I know I want to be kind and understanding to my friend. I want to be the person so many people were to me, over the last 15 months. My friends overwhelmed me with love and empathy, and no one told me to “get over it” or “man up.” They allowed me to grieve what I lost without pressure or judgment.

As I type, I see clearly what my issue is: I can’t fix him. I can’t remove the pain he feels from his father’s absence. It’s not up to me to heal his broken heart. Restoration is a work of the Holy Spirit, and my roommate has to be a present partner in the process. From what I can tell, in my conversations with him, my friend isn’t ready to walk through healing. He’s not ready to let go, or ready to look to his future with hope and expectation.

The uncertainty is what I don’t like. Selfishly, I want my roommate to put….

Well, shit.

During the composition of this blog post, my roommate texted me. The contractors he hired to repair his mother’s house are MIA, and the project is only 1/3 finished. The house is a wreck, which means he’s not coming back any time soon. Fuck. And, who am I to complain?

Lord, I am begging you for a breakthrough for my friend. Light a righteous fire under the ass of the appropriate managers and workers repairing the house. Shower him with love and peace.

Amen.

Nik Curfman 7/22/21 Nik Curfman 7/22/21

Abstract: Paddling

I bought fresh sketchbooks and new pencils,

dreamed of greatness, and plotted my course.

Some days I paddle as hard as I can,

and some days I dream of paddling as hard as I can.

I bought fresh sketchbooks and new pencils,

dreamed of greatness, and plotted my course.

Some days I paddle as hard as I can,

and some days I dream of paddling as hard as I can.

Even more, some days I dream of dreaming,

and at that point, I am not paddling.

My eyes are trained on the shore,

not far from me and my little boat.

The journey to the other side seems so far from here,

and the waves conspire to knock me off my route.

Even still, I will push on,

away from the comfort of dreaming,

toward the reality of doing.

Today is not the day I become a master,

rather one day closer.

Nik Curfman 6/27/21 Nik Curfman 6/27/21

Journal: #320 Grace In Failure Is Key

In truth, I am a beginner in several areas of my life. If I treat myself without grace or kindness, I will fail. But, if I approach the coming years with patience, I will succeed. It’s that simple. The Lord is constantly saying this to me. I won’t win my race if I am constantly tearing myself apart. Hope must be part of even the most frustrating days.

Over the weekend, I had an epiphany concerning where I am and how I’m going to get where I want to be. Much of my consternation of late is due to my consistent fight with insecurity. I’ve written about this. You know. What occurred to me Sunday was why I feel insecure. It is because I’m stepping out on my own in ways other people do not. I’m climbing a different mountain than most, so I can’t expect other people to be able to understand what I do or will do. You might be saying to yourself “yes, of course.” Duh— is another. I’ve written about that too.

What I’m talking about is— my epiphany— is a source of new grace for myself. I am learning how to learn, how to grow, and remain committed. Learning how to learn and grow is what’s new. Adults tend to want to learn and become proficient at the same time. (I think of my brother. Having never hung cabinets in his life, he berated himself because the new cabinets he self-installed were not perfectly square. Hilarious stuff.) When we fail at a new task, we start to believe we’re too old or lack the intelligence to understand it. That’s where I’ve been- failing and hating it.

Nik Curfman 6/23/21 Nik Curfman 6/23/21

Journal: #315 Grief is Grief

Grief is grief regardless of source. Love does not say one person’s hurt is more painful than another’s. How dare we belittle a child or a friend? What’s tough for one person is not for another. Death is a real bitch for some people. Break-ups…are hard for some people. We all have some act or condition that breaks us. Grace, being what it is, does not classify them. Neither should we.

I spoke to my friend Blake for almost two hours last night. From the start I knew he was down. Blake is a man who wants to do right to each and every person in his life. I empathize with him. I do too. The problem is “doing right” for one person can and does often conflict with what is right for another. The grief of his brother’s death is still fresh. The whole family is hurting, but he can’t make everyone happy. Newly married, my friend is navigating what it means to choose his wife above all others.

As I listened to him, my heart broke. I can’t imagine being in his shoes. His mother lives alone, and his dad expects him for holidays. From my perspective the answers are clear, obvious even. It’s ok to be imperfect. Your life is complicated. Set boundaries and be gracious with yourself. How easy we find the answers for others. Yet, they seem hidden when we need them.

What alarmed me today was my attitude toward another friend of mine, another soul suffering from grief. This particular man has been through the wash for a while. To make matters worse, he lacks the self-worth and emotional tools to handle it. Alcohol is his medication of choice. I don’t judge myself for self-medicating. Why would I? But, I’ve judged him because I do not empathize with his plight. The problems in his life seem ordinary. Better put, he’s not justified to me. What a terrible thing for me to admit. The hypocrisy is truly evident. Who am I to say one grief is more valid than another?

Lord, forgive me for judging my friend (and family for that matter.) I’m sorry I did that, and I don’t want to do it again. Thank your for showing me this dark place in my heart. I want there to be only light. Your light. - Amen

Nik Curfman 5/17/21 Nik Curfman 5/17/21

Journal: #282 The Return of Confession

The cycle is not new for me- offense turns to anger, which turns into dickishness. I recognize it from last year. It’s how I treated my old business partner. His inability to validate my self-worth drove me nuts, but it wasn’t his job. It’s my job to let shit go and validate me. If I feel like shit no amount of outside validation helps. And if I validate me, no amount of shit hurts. See how that works?

I did it again. I treated my mother poorly- not as well as I would like. And, I don’t want to admit why. There is no good reason to mistreat someone, especially my mother (or yours.) Thusly, I have no good reason to be a dick. But, a reason exists nonetheless. I decided I’m out of time for this post. Today is the reckoning.

From an outside perspective, I know I look like a dick. Internally, I justify my words because I need to stick up for myself. Boundaries are a new concept to the Curfman family, one we’ve all learned in the last decade. Naturally, some of us are more apt to use boundaries. Mainly me. My parents are often concerned with how I (or my siblings) will respond. It’s a valid concern, although it only serves to continue the status quo. I firmly believe one has no right to complain about what they are unwilling to change.

Back to me and my parents…

I’ve hidden behind “setting boundaries” as an outlet for my disappointment. Somewhere between December and March I lost my patience, and I’m embarrassed to admit it. Over the last few months, I lost my ability to “let it go.” Of the many examples, I give this one: whenever I see my dad eat sugar despite his health issues, it drives me nuts. What I should do is let him eat the sugar. What I do is stew in my indignation. What is he doing? Life without sugar is 10x healthier.

I love my heart for my dad to live a long healthy life. What is not my place is to henpeck his life choices, or even be offended by them. Same goes for my mom. She’s a good mom, wants what’s best for me, and always has my back. It’s not that they deserve better, but they do deserve grace. We all do. Everyday. My life will become mush less meaningful if I go around trying to correct every stupid offense. It’s not worth it. I’d rather enjoy my time with my parents.

This moment is in line with many from the last year. The Lord is good to repeat Himself and surround me with people who love me. Grace and more grace, the endless love of God. I’m sorry I waited this long to confession my anger and resentment. Waiting only gives the devil time. And, I’m about that free life.

Momma, I love you.

Nik Curfman 5/16/21 Nik Curfman 5/16/21

Journal: #281 The Perfect Enemy

The word I continue to hear in my thoughts is perfection. It’s a word I hate, like genuinely hate. It’s the excuse of the immature and afraid. The pursuit of it, of perfection, has robbed me of life and relationships. And lately, it’s made a bit of a comeback in my life. Last summer I didn’t give a rat’s ass about being perfect, but the last month, I have. I see it in my lack of social media posts or subject matter for this blog. And, it’s most obvious in my lack of artistic endeavors.

I don’t regret my career in the food business, but I do wish I ended it before last summer. Currently, I feel like an amateur in life as I try to learn new skills in marketing, making art, and investments. In the food world, I am in the top 5% of people world-wide when it comes to knowledge and experience. My areas of expertise* include food science, the anthropology of cuisine, and flavor theory. In the world of marketing I am entry-level (at best). Art? Same. Investments? I’m more aware of what I don’t know, and it’s tons.

In addition to my general feeling of inadequacy, this week also reminded me how young I am in the Lord. I was so totally engrossed in my short-comings and failures, I stopped living out of a place of gratitude and trust. And once my head is lowered, the enemy sent in the big guns: self-pity and judgement. I hate feeling sorry for myself. It’s immature and shameful. Fortunately, God is good, and prayer works. I’m thankful I established healthy habits- praying, hiking, writing- last year, because they are paying dividends this week.

Perfection is a prison, a self-imposed prison. It’s corrupts the creative gene, ruins relationships, and locks us into patterns of mediocre bullshit. It’s a sad irony, how most of us wait for a more perfect opportunity only to spend our lives waiting. This is the goal of perfection, to hold its victims in a state of anxious inertia. I can’t imagine a more satisfying outcome than to torture a victim without lifting a finger? Tis the life of perfectionist devil.

My truth is I’m glad I’m facing my issues. I’m not months or years down the road, trying to perfect myself in the corner. I know I’m learning and pushing my boundaries. There’s no need to run from my issues or failures, because they will be a part of my life as long as I’m alive. I will make bad trades and forget what the Lord taught me. Yes, I’m embarrassed when I feel like a whinny asshole. However, I’m not stuck there. I can and do move on. Again, this is what progress looks like. Thank God.

(*I called myself an expert, and I use this term in a comparative sense. I know more about food than most people, but not more than top chefs, academics, or dedicated cooks.)

Nik Curfman 5/11/21 Nik Curfman 5/11/21

Abstract: Who My God Is

A picture is painted in the mind of every young American Christian,

of a God, a white God with a long gray beard, seated on a gleaming throne.

He welds a gold scepter in His right hand,

and His flaming wrath in His left.

A picture is painted in the mind of every young American Christian,

of a God, a white God with a long gray beard, seated on a gleaming throne.

He welds a gold scepter in His right hand,

and His flaming wrath in His left.

This is not the God of Abraham, Isaac, or Jacob.

Nor, Ruth, Mary, or her beloved son Jesus.

This is a picture of the gods of Greece, the Vikings, and Incas.

Their gods are petty, ill-mannered, and mortal.

Unfortunately, the indoctrination into the pagan view of God does not end here,

Aside from the laughable comparison to Zeus,

We are taught to appease our angry God with sacrifices and good behavior,

and in this pack of lies are sown seeds of disappointment and resentment.

Our consumer culture molds us to believe grace is a feeling,

faith is measured in possessions (which is why we treat God like Santa Claus),

hope a marketing slogan,

and love is a form of ethereal magic.

In this construct, the anxious and depressed are cast out as inconvenient,

the poor are rebuked as lazy,

the optimistic are mocked as foolish,

and those who choose love over tribalism are lonely.

This is American Christianity:

God is angry, so you better act right.

If you act right He will give you what you want.

If you do not get what you want,

There is something wrong with you.

If there is something wrong with you,

God is angry.

It’s not true,

This is the Lord:

“Blessed and loved are the anxious and depressed, for God is with you in your darkness. Reach for Him and He will answer.

Blessed are those are mourn, the humble, the thirsty, the merciful, the peaceful, the lonely, and those daring to love as the Father loves.”

He’s the God who runs after lost sheep wherever they wander,

who gave Himself up for us,

who welcomes us back once we realize what a shit we’ve been,

and lives in us regardless of how we feel.

I thank God the picture I held as a boy,

the narrative I believed as a young man,

the lies strangling my heart,

are all false.

Grace is His favor,

without end or price,

steady and sure,

from the beginning to very end.

Faith is a trust,

whatever the outcome,

our heart and minds are His,

and He knows best.

Hope is the sign of endurance,

the mark of a Believer,

it holds onto the highest good

as He does in all things.

And love…the most glorious of His presents,

is everything good-

endurance, patience, kindness,

peace, joy, hope, faith, righteousness,

and more.

This is the God of Adam, David, and Elizabeth,

the Father of Jesus,

the one who gave His only Son,

and the God whose throne is cold, because His desire is to walk with us.

Nik Curfman 4/28/21 Nik Curfman 4/28/21

Journal: #269 Anger Doesn’t Defeat Anger

Anger is a sign of suffering, and I’m too tired to figure out why. Regardless of the reason, the cure is love. It’s always love. Tonight, as I type, I choose to be accept the love of the Lord, and love myself. It’s the kindness of the Lord…that leads to everything good. l accept it.

This is my third different entry for today. The my first draft is about what it means to take the next step of faith in my life. I’ll publish it tomorrow. Then I started to write about the loneliness of moving on. I experienced loneliness last year when I stood up for myself in a handful of broken friendships. Only a few survived. What I wrote about today is a new loneliness. It’s the kind of loneliness we experience when we start down the road less traveled by, which I intend to do. You will read about it Friday or Saturday. For today I want to discuss what a little shit I’ve been the last three days.

Yes, I’ve been a little shit. I’ve been angry and short-tempered. And, I know what you’re thinking. Didn’t he write about his yesterday? Yes, again. Sort of. I wrote about being triggered, but today was different. This afternoon, I hunted for people to fight, arguments to win. Lord, help. WTF is this?

On occasion, there’s no purpose in the “dig.” By dig, I mean the endless pursuit of trying to understand every flaw, motivation, and moment. On a day such as this, I find more solace in being gracious and kind. As I ambled down the side street a few houses away from my parents house, I decided to let go of trying to understand myself and the world around me. Then the Lord spoke, “You don’t fight rage with rage. You conquer rage with gratitude and hope.” I held up both fists in a mock fighting stance and laughed at the gesture.

Nik Curfman 3/24/21 Nik Curfman 3/24/21

Abstract: He Is Me

But, he’s forgotten,

I’ve know him my whole life,

and I know he’s scared.

He’s got a strong voice,

sounds an awful lot like mine,

and he lives in cracks of my mind.

On a day like today,

He’s hurling fear,

in anxious waves at my heart.

But, he’s forgotten,

I’ve know him my whole life,

and I know he’s scared.

He’s afraid of the future,

that he’s alone,

that all road to a blank desert.

I forgive his outburst, his shudders,

Because, I love him.

His tortured taunts are his cry for grace.

That guy,

He’s wrong.

I forgive his outburst, his shudders,

Because, I love him.

His tortured taunts are his cry for grace.

After a few deep breaths,

I whisper my kind response.

“You are loved and worthy of love Nik,

It’s the melody playing in the background of your life.

In that Eternal Love,

is a thousand new beginnings,

and a Shelter from every anxious moment.”

Nik Curfman 3/14/21 Nik Curfman 3/14/21

Journal: #228 Grace In Anxiety

Blake and his wife Hilary are facing their own set of major life struggles. The days ahead might grow darker still. Despite their problems, they made time for me. I needed the Lord in that moment, and human shoulder to hug. That’s the friend and the goodness of God.

It hit me on the drive back from Durham to Columbia today, between Salisbury and Charlotte. Without warning I felt anxiety and depression flood my mind. What am I doing? Will I ever make a difference? I knew this was an attack, so I began to pray. I began to sing. Then I texted Blake. I was weak, but not defeated.

I wasn’t sure if Blake would text back. In all honesty, I thought he’d be busy. Thankfully, I was wrong. He said he’d love to have me stop over. I could see the new house he bought with his wife. It felt like a life line. I knew I could be anxious and untethered in front him. I didn’t need to be polite or tone down my language.

The funny thing is I didn’t once think of stopping to see him prior to my trip to Durham. The idea never crossed my mind all weekend or when I left Durham. Only after I started to feel heavy and depressed did I think of visiting him. It was the Lord.

Tomorrow is coming. The sun will shine, and the myriad of birds drawn to the free bird seed in the yard will sing. I will rise. This moment will pass, and once I again I will trust the Jesus to lead my way.

Today, I’m thankful for old friends and their kindness.

Like this blog? Share it with people you love.

Nik Curfman 2/19/21 Nik Curfman 2/19/21

Journal: #210 Les Miserables Always Makes Me Cry

I’m never going to be a Christian in search of “the spot bride without wrinkle.” All too often we preach about sin. This is backwards. My job, anyone’s job, is to point people to Jesus. Whatever washing and cleansing the church must go through is a work of the Lord. Paul said that too. We got way too many Javert’s in the church, not enough Valjeans.

I was 14 the first time I watched Les Miserables. It was my first and remains my favorite musical. I took my nephew Tucker to see it when he was 14, and he loves it too.

Tonight, instead of watching Star Wars, I watched Les Mis with my dad. I could tell he was hooked in the first five minutes. (Unfortunately, my mother joined us a bit too late for any of the story to make sense. She’ll need to re-watch it to understand the true power of the story.) I always get a kick out of watching the tale of Jean Valjean with someone who’s never seen it before. The Spirit of Grace and Mercy is so thick, not even Hollywood can wash it away.

I also try to hide my emotions while I watch Les Mis. It’s powerful. I cry every time.

Jean Valjean is us. He’s a man punished for a petty crime and then doomed to a life of shame. He hates the world for who it says he is. Who can’t relate to that? Then in one glorious moment he experiences grace and love. One severe act of kindness changed his life.

(For all the sin and hell preaching in Evangelical America, it is the kindness of God that leads to repentance. Paul wrote that. It’s in the Bible.)

This evening I saw something different in the story I didn’t notice before. Jean Valjean is the epitome of grace and mercy. He is us and who we want to be. His pursuer Inspector Javert (because Valjean broke parole after prison) is a law man. Javert believes in “honest work and righteous living.”

The line that caught my attention is during a confrontation between Valjean and Javert. Javert says, “I was like you. I am from the gutter too.” In this respect, Valjean and Javert are two sides of the same coin. Valjean is love and redemption, while Javert puts his faith in following the law. He’s bound by it and finds his personal redemption in his moral code. One man was remade by God, and the other tried to remake himself.

I realize it’s not my job to stop the Javerts. They need grace and kindness too. They need the Lord of love too. As do I.