Walk in the Woods

Nik Curfman 2/24/21 Nik Curfman 2/24/21

Journal: #214 I Have A Wonderful Life

I strolled through the last seven years of my life yesterday. It took me nearly an hour to go through all the pictures and videos. (Thank God for pictures. Thank God for video and high capacity digital storage.) Like anyone, I forget the blessings and grace on my life. It’s too easy to focus on what isn’t instead of what is, what has been.

In the last seven years I:

Moved from the southeast to California, site unseen. I did that on faith the Lord would catch me. Nothing more.
I met and continue to meet the very best kind of people. (Too many people to name or picture.)
I’ve traveled across America including: around California, Texas, Nashville, Oregon, Virginia, and the Carolinas.
I’ve eaten some of the best food in the history of mankind. If I could export real Chinese food to my fellow Americans I would. Everyone needs to savor Peking Duck at least once.
I climbed the peak of Mt Lassen…by myself.
I started a pop-up restaurant and was a partner in another restaurant startup.
I’ve seen the resurrection of marriages and birth of babies.
I’ve watched my nephews and niece grow.
My relationship with my parents is better than ever.
I got to be the officiant at one of my best friend’s wedding.
Just before that wedding, I watched Bill Murray kiss the bride to be at the rehearsal dinner.
I discovered and developed my love of nature and hiking.
I’ve taken risk and failed. More often than not, the Lord caught me and set me right again.
I dated quality women.
I’ve supported my friends and family through death.
I found loving community when I was sick.
I learned what faith is and how to trust the Lord.
I learned how to pray and listen.
I rediscovered grit and learned to tune out the judges in my head.

This is barely a list of everything awesome and amazing about the last seven years. It would be a long list.

The most enduring and meaningful constant throughout my life is the Lord. Between the smiles and delicious meals were serious bouts of depression, self-hatred, and loneliness. He steadied my feet and met me in the back allies of my life. I was never truly alone.

And now, at this very moment, I stand on the edge of myself. Most of the last seven years I did not dare be me. I tried to be someone else. Last summer I was set free in the midst of sorrow and rejection. It was the Lord’s greatest gift. He used my tragedies to show me who I was and the direction I should go.

I have no room for regret or resentment. All things work together for good. I’m excited about my life and where it’s headed. Thank you Lord. For everything. I have a wonderful life.

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

Journal: #211 Pride for Royal Pines

At one point I began to feel a burden for them. I told the Lord, I felt like I should be doing something. Instantly He asked,”Isn’t life more than an outward appearance?” Yes. It is. The chain link fences and barking dogs are a sign they value something. Yes, they may be afraid of being robbed, but the presence of fear belies the presence of hope or self-worth. And, for the first time in my life, I felt a tinge of pride for Royal Pines.

I grew up in a working class neighborhood in northeast Columbia, South Carolina. It’s official name is Royal Pines Estates, which is a bit comical. My parents bought their house back in the mid-80’s, and have lived there ever since. They’ve seen many people move in and out. The character has remained the same. It’s a place full of immigrants, close to retirement baby boomers, and single parents families.

In an ocean of new housing, Royal Pines is a cheap option which lends itself to the current makeup. Most of the immigrants work in trades, and rents are affordable for the unskilled single parents and aging baby boomers. It’s beginning to change, but the neighborhood is mostly mobile homes built on sandy lots.

When I found out my dad had cancer I instantly thought about flying back to Columbia to be with my parents, to sleep in my room, and once again walk the side streets on my daily walks. It’s definitely not Redding, California. The sheer volume of trash littered from yard to yard is depressing, and each homes seems to guarded by a large all-too-willing-to-bark watch dog.

Over the last twelve days I’ve had plenty of time to observe my old neighborhood. I forgot how ashamed I was to live here; even though, I lived in one of the nicer brick houses. To be honest, I realized I was still ashamed to call this jumble of humanity my home. Why do the neighbors leave their broken TVs near the street? Why is there an empty cans of Chef Boyardee under the mailbox? Have these people no pride?

At one point I began to feel a burden for them. I told the Lord, I felt like I should be doing something. Instantly He asked,”Isn’t life more than an outward appearance?” Yes. It is. The chain link fences and barking dogs are a sign they value something. Yes, they may be afraid of being robbed, but the presence of fear belies the presence of hope or self-worth. And, for the first time in my life, I felt a tinge of pride for Royal Pines.

The world teaches us to focus on the negatives and flaws. It is a tactic of hell to judge by the outward appearance, but not the Lord. He doesn’t look at residents of Royal Pines the same way a cop or real estate agent might. He sees His kids, and He loves them.

Lord, bless the people of Royal Pines Estates. I pray for a covering over their lives to walk in the fullness of everything You create for them to be. May hopes be realized and dreams lived.

Amen.

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Nik Curfman 11/8/20 Nik Curfman 11/8/20

Abstraction: 40 Years A Gift

Like I said, I love me. And I wouldn’t be me without all that.

I paid a steep price to stand, and reflect, and love the person I see in front of me.

Indeed, without question or hesitation…I’d absolutely pay that price again.

I’m worth it.

I’m standing on my side of the mirror, to see the me I am at 40.

I’ve traded my respectable high fade for shoulder length locks.

My cheeks, once plump, seem to disappear behind my uncut beard.

I am thinner now than ever before, a symbol of something greater than a few lost pounds.

I stare into my eyes, my wonderful blue eyes, and brush the steaks of tears from my face.

I love who I am.

Standing in front of myself, I think about my life. Neither the good or the bad, I wouldn’t trade a single moment for another.

Even more, I’d do it all over again.

Every failure, every heart break, every single second of anguish and suicidal loneliness?

Yes.

I’d do it again.

Each trial and every battle is now a stone on which I rise.

I wouldn’t know what I know, have the faith I carry, or overflow with love without them.

I’d drink till I pass out, pretend to be someone I’m not, and steal food from work.

I’d drift from job to job, and date the drug addict.

I’d spend hours screaming in the dark for answers and wondering why I don’t fit in.

I’d trust the Spirit, and reject Pride.

I’d choose Love over Shame.

I’d stick to my promise to follow Him.

Like I said, I love me. And I wouldn’t be me without all that.

I paid a steep price to stand, and reflect, and love the person I see in front of me.

Indeed, without question or hesitation…I’d absolutely pay that price again.

I’m worth it.

(One of the greatest gifts of my life is to see my life as a gift. Even the messy bits polite people would rather forget.)

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Nik Curfman 8/31/20 Nik Curfman 8/31/20

DJ: #48 Old Friends

Here is the straight truth: I cared about my social status. I cared about my job, my relationship status, my waistline, and social standing. So I projected my insecurity onto them. Conversely, I couldn’t receive what they gave because I didn’t trust it.

Yesterday was the day after my birthday. Forty years of life, plus one day. In the evening, I went to Freedom Park in Charlotte to meet up with some old friends: a sound engineer, a singer/song writer, a screen writer/director, and a producer. We sat on the grass across from the amphitheater and talked like old friends do as the daylight dwindled. It was as if no time or distance separated us from one another. We spent hours going over our thoughts on the coming election, COVID-19, and our families. My heart was full and grateful being in the moment.

Upon reflection, one thing was missing, one old friend: my insecurity. Usually, in any similar setting, I am consumed by the overwhelming need to prove myself, to prove I’ve got my shit together. Last night I was content to listen, content to be between career paths, and content to speak confidently when asked a question.

This morning, I felt loved. Like truly loved. And it is a healthy feeling. I say healthy because I’m not chasing an emotional high. In fact, I never really felt an emotional high. All the same, today I realized those guys, men I’ve known for 20 years, never gave a shit about what I did for work or my social status.

Here is the straight truth: I cared about my social status. I cared about my job, my relationship status, my waistline, and social standing. So I projected my insecurity onto them. Conversely, I couldn’t receive what they gave because I didn’t trust it. How can anyone value me? I’m a piece of shit. I believed they were either fooled or trying to con me. If you knew the real me, you wouldn’t be this way, or what are you trying to get from me?

God is good folks. He cares about the way we see ourselves. He patiently walked with me for the last twenty years to get me to this point, the point where I’m not an insecure emotional wreck. It feels good to fully let go of judgement and comparison, to focus on being Nik- a man with nothing to prove.

Lord, thanks for my friends. My true friends. Thank you for their love and kindness through the years. Bless them and their wives, and families. Pour out your love and grace on their hearts. Draw them closer to your center.

Amen.