Joy Beyond Intellect

I want more joy in my life, the kind of joy beyond rational thinking or education. I think it’s called silliness. My good friend Blake texted me some silliness yesterday.

Shiggi Babba defies anything cool or worldly appealing. It’s so dumb it’s glorious. I can’t listen to this without feeling pure joy, and who wouldn’t want more of it? I intend to let go of my need to understand everything. I want more delights, more wonder. Less controlled, less aloof. I don’t want to get in my way of receiving it. Of giving it. 

Fuck being a cynic. 

Around the First Turn

I’m not sure what happened or how, but yesterday I turned a small but significant corner in my heart. And that corner is called “Sense of Purpose.” 

Last January, I thought I knew what the next 5-10 years of life would be, mostly cooking BBQ and hopefully her. In less than five months it was all gone, and necessarily gone. The Lord has something better for me, for my heart and mind.

Since May, I’ve wondered what direction my life is headed. The first week in June, I started to get anxious on the question of my career, whatever those are. Once I put it before the Lord, a path into digital marketing opened up, and I took it. It’s going well so far, but it is not my resting place.

Another question put to me by a few folks is “are you going to stay in Redding?” It’s a valid question, and the short answer is still yes. Why would I leave? Community is important to be, vital even. Big cities are unappealing, and every place has its flaws. I want to be around people I can love and be loved by on a daily basis. 

(The long answer to where I’ll settle has to do with a future wife. I want to make room for a life with someone, and for me it includes being open to living in another city. To be clear, I do not want to leave, but I may.)

Yesterday, while I worked on an oil pastel drawing, I felt nothing. The good nothing. The present nothing. The peaceful nothingness that comes from focus and enthusiasm. No feeling or thoughts, just doing. I loved it and crave more. 

In that wonderful moment, my creativity opened up, and I could see with more clarity the path my art creation is headed. My motivation shot way, way up. As proof, I haven’t done a thing today, and I don’t want to work on marketing projects. I want to create. It’s not about being famous or wealthy, it’s about letting out whatever is inside. Because whatever is inside me is good. 

A river is pouring out of my chest, a previously damned river. And I aim to let it run. 

Today, August 13th, I could care less about where I’ll live or how to make money. I give those to God the way Jesus said when I promised “seek first the Kingdom of God, and all these things will be added to you.” 

I can’t wait to get home and create. 

Roommates SUCK(sometimes)

Today, part of my morning self talk included the phrases “I’m not a dick, I’m not being attacked, and I’m amazing.” I feel like a dick, like I’m being attacked, and not amazing. I know it’s not true, hence the positive confessions. I’m amazing. I love my roommate and friends. They love me. But most of all, I’m love myself and I’m awesome. 

My roommate and I are in tension because that’s what happens when you live with another human for any amount of time. It’s natural to have friction over silly things like dirty dishes, and are largely unavoidable. The thing is, I’m ok with the friction. It’s the way we deal with the friction that is bothering me. I hate it. I hate the passive aggressive avoidance of direct conflict, of which I am slightly more guilty than he is. 

We grew apart this year due to, what I consider to be, natural causes. I dated her early in the year, so my face time with him dwindled to near zero. Then, in the wake of embracing my heart, I decided to move away from activities like watching sports or depressing videos and movies. I’d rather watch clouds dance in the sky, go for a hike to a waterfall, or create. I invited the roommate to some of these activities and received a polite “no thanks.” He seems to prefer to spend his free time in a dark room with a glass of wine and Netflix. Fair enough. 

The other issue at play in our relationship is my increasing self-esteem. I don’t need his approval or affirmation…mostly. I wouldn’t be writing this blog entry if I was totally dead to the need for his approval. 

What I’m battling today is what I believe my negative feelings say about who I am. My feelings of anger, sadness, and disappointment are telling me I’m fucked up. I’m a dick. If I were a more competent man, I wouldn’t be in this situation. I’d communicate clearly and be a loving dove, sowing peace and harmony everywhere I wonder. But it’s not true. 

My roommate, for all his strengths, is human too. He suffers from some of the same shames I did only a few months ago. He desperately wants the approval of his friends, because he doesn’t value himself (a fact he confirmed, not my pop psychology.) He’s not powerful in his life, and constantly seems like a victim. My heart aches for him for I know what he battles, and I know I can’t fix it.  I also know he is trying to control his environment, aka manipulate his environment. If I won’t allow myself to use manipulation, I can’t allow anyone else to do it to me. 

I am not a dick for enforcing boundaries or voicing my thoughts on dirty dishes. Period. My areas of concern are 1) being vulnerable in the moment rather than letting things escalate to a stupid emotional state, and 2) being gracious with myself. These are the areas I can address in my life. 

I am not an asshole, or a jerk. I’m imperfect, and still learning to navigate conflict and emotional swings. I believe this is all part of the larger process of digging out the roots of fear and insecurity, which is what I want to do. 

Today is a good day. Amen. 

Distancing Myself From Success

I’ve been here before, suspended in peace and relative calm. I have no immediate fires to flood, or ogres to slay. I can feel my confidence rising, a future unfolding, and a tranquil sense of order. 

This is circumstance too. All of it could be gone tomorrow in a the span of one phone call. And then what, am I to drown in sorrow? Throw my hands to God and question everything? Nope. Not gonna happen. 

I’ll say thank you for days like today, and thank you for any day I get to experience life. Success will come and go, Jesus is forever. 

I don’t mean to sound dour. I will enjoy the mountain’s top more than ever, but I refuse to take my worth from them. I am loved and worthy of love regardless of circumstance. The only difference is I see it now. 

The Stark Difference Between Discipline and Control

Discipline grunts,”I will” in the stormy down pour. Control whimpers,”They must” at the slightest sign of a dark cloud. 

Discipline believes in itself without of chorus of praise and adoration. Control cannot get enough of it. 

Discipline isn’t distracted by outside noise of the latest fad or disaster. She is focused on the moment, be it for joy, or for profit, or shouldering the burden of brother with cancer. 

Control wonders from moment to moment, never present. He seeks the next fix, unable to experience true joy or support the sick. Like a junkie, he uses his charm and pleasing nature in trade for a bump of affirmation. 

Discipline loves wisdom and hates lies. She loves to build only what will last to eternity. Control can’t see over the next hill, and is thrown by slick presentations. 

Discipline is love- long suffering, patient, kind, enduring. She knows truth is eternal, and she lacks nothing. 

Control relies on others for its direction, affirmation, and value. But like a cup with a hole in the bottom, it’s never full. And it will never be full.

Even before my eyes opened today, I could feel the bullshit setting in around me. The same bullshit I battled this weekend- the pissy insecure self-pity bullshit. I just rolled over and said “not today, not any more.” And then I began to speak love of myself, my day, and my life. I leaned hard in the Holy Spirit, and the bullshit is gone. 

Over recent weeks, I got away from positive personal affirmation and confession. Not by intent, but by neglect. I’ve felt better about myself and my life. I like what I’m doing and the aim of my life. And…this weekend was a good test to remind me of what practices are important to my life. 

I’ve got to believe in me and trust the Lord. I’ve got to do the things I know bring me life. No matter what. Life is up and down. I accept that. What I do not accept is judging myself and feeling like a shit about the downs. I’m amazing. PERIOD. 

(So are you;) 

Unexpected Delight, and Fight

Last night I attended a birthday part for a new friend. As I wrote yesterday, she was there too. In all honesty, the whole event went about as well as I could’ve hoped, limit awkwardness and sense of forward movement- for me. 

I allowed myself to sit and be present. Usually in social situations I’ve tried to prove myself by showcasing my intelligence or wisdom or ‘manliness’. But last night I was content to be one of the group. I have nothing to prove. 

Several moments delighted me last night, but what blew me down was her. She actually joined the group conversation, spoke openly, and expressed her views. It was awesome, and of course made her more attractive than ever. This is the person I knew she is! 

It’s a bit of a funny reversal. My previous experience with her is watching her slink into a shell, afraid to say anything or be known. And I, as mentioned above, was usually a significant part of the conversation. But last night…I was content to be mostly silent and enjoy the moment, while she easy joined the chat and brought something good to it. Amazing. I didn’t expect it. 

As I drifted off to sleep I felt an overwhelming peace at this thought: if she and I ever date again, it will be truly awesome and good. We’ve both moved toward the best version of ourselves. 

This morning I went for my usual stroll with Jesus in the park, and gone was the peace from the night before. It was replaced by insecurity and doubt. After a bit of wallowing in my despair I decided to fight the fears. 

The first fear stems from my heart’s desire to love people and pastor them (kinda hate to use the word pastor, but there it is) through the low moments of their walk with Jesus. I love to encourage others, but there’s a built-in trap. The trap is taking my self worth and value from how people receive what I say. As I prayed about this the Lord asked,”do you have truth?” Of course, I do. “And is it life giving?” Yes, it is. “Then your task is to put it out there, don’t judge the results. That’s on me.”

It was as simple reminder. I’ve got gold. It will be good for other people to have some. That’s it. 

The second fear is similar to the first. If I continue to hangout with her, I assume at some point I’ll pony up the courage to ask her out again- if she doesn’t first. The thought inspires feelings of inadequacy. Am I good enough for her? Fuck yes, I am. I’m amazing….even if I’m not good enough for her.  Again, my self worth is not tied to the approval of others or one particular woman. 

I am amazing because I exist. I am loved because I exist. And soon, I will fully function from a place of continual self confidence. Until that day, I will fight the fears and be thankful for the delights. No going back. 

My Frustrated Growth

Last night, I turned into my parking spot and noticed a gaping hole in my apartment where the front door usually hangs. It’s not like my roommate to leave the front door open as he detests temperatures above 70 degrees. I shut the car off and waited in silence. My mind formed a rationale which my nose confirmed, the bastard burned his food…AGAIN. 

He wouldn’t call it burned, he’d call it roasted. Whatever the semantics, the result is a smokey apartment, my nose inflamed, and my eyes stinging. It’s a common enough occurrence at our apartment that I’ve spoken to him about it before. Several times. And still he persists, as if filling the whole house with burnt chicken fat smoke is the only way to cook chicken. 

This morning I woke up at the usual 5:30 am, but decided to sleep in to 8 am. Felt good to let myself do that. As a prize, I drove to Mount Lassen National Park for an easy hike around the lake. The drive up was pleasant; however, I spent ¾ of the hike in tears and frustration. 

I’m frustrated with how I responded to Ben’s smokey culinary technique, and I am sad today is the last day I might get to see her- which is probably false. (It’s a small town, and I’m not intentionally avoiding her.) After continuing to pray, I sat on a large lichen covered rock under the shade of a red fir. 

In tears I tried to fight off the judgment now surrounding me. I did not respond to Ben’s hazy endeavor with serene kindness and gentle tones. And today when I noticed his pile of dishes next to the dishwasher rather than in the dishwasher I was less than cordial about it. 

And the girl? I spent most of the morning in imaginary arguments, trying to defend myself. Trying to prove my worth to her. Such fun. 

I hate being this guy. The pensive, self-doubting, defensive asshole. I hate getting angry at my roommate. In truth, Ben is a good roommate and a sweet man. And she is awesome. (We had to break up, something I think was for the best for both of us.)

As stated above, my real problem is me, not them. (Well…the food burning has to stop.) But I’m upset at my responses, and I’ve judged myself. That’s got to stop too. The answer to feeling attacked isn’t to respond to the attack, it’s too love myself. Good thing growth isn’t a straight line toward the utopian horizon. It dips and climbs each day. 

The last ¼ of my hike I spent affirming myself. I’m amazing. I’m a great man. I love people and look for the good in everyone. Then I came home to the dishes, and a semi-emotional meltdown. Did I say growth dipped and climbed everyday? How about every few hours? LOLOLOLOL

Now, I’m typing my feelings into the internet. 

Grace is a funny bird. Western Christians generally understand Grace to be something unearned, a relentless love and mercy. But it’s also something we can bestow upon ourselves. Grace to you Nik. 

Lord, thank you for teaching me to love myself. Thank you for setting the example. 

Amen. 

Feeling Tired, and I don’t Want to Finish

I’m physically tired. What I really want to do is put on a series of movies until it’s time to sleep. I don’t want to go on my afternoon walk. I don’t not want to do an oil pastel drawing, and I don’t want to go to the prayer chapel.

FFFFFFFFFFFFFFFF….

But, yes I do. I do want to finish the week. Mainly because I’m scared of what it means if I don’t finish. It’s this lingering dread in the dark corner of my mind. The dread whispers fear laced condemnations- “if I skip my recent ‘normal routine’ I’ll slip. I’ll slip back down the slope into the abyss of nothingdom.”  

So I sit on this couch typing, half exhausted, half willing myself to get the fuck up and go do something, wondering if today is the day I cut myself some slack, and in doing so begin to fall back into what I hate. 

But what if that’s not true? What if the routine isn’t you either? What if you can allow yourself the grace of not living between two extremes. 

I have five hours left of this day. I would like to get my ten thousand steps, and go sit on the grass for time with Jesus. I think I’ll cut out the oil pastel for today and do two tomorrow.  And I can still veg out in front of my laptop. Watch Walter Mitty, my new favorite movie. (Love the sound track.) 

Lord, thank you. Thank you for giving me tools to get out of mental/emotional extremes, to be able to give myself grace and find the road onward. 

Amen. 

My Prophetic Reality

I am one of those brave (or stupid) souls who claim to be able to hear God speak. Even more so, I admit I believe He can and does speak to everyone. I hold onto this belief despite the broken promises and a stack of WTF moments.

I wish I had better story to write for this post. I wish I could point to a litany of prophetic happenings and glory, but my prophetic reality doesn’t seem to sing that song. And I prefer not to do spiritual and mental jujitsu when it comes to the pain. (Prophetic people love to justify why something didn’t happen.) Therefore, the belief I’ve maintained, since my mid 20′s, is the prophetic is a place of pain. But what if it isn’t? 

It helps to recognize a simple fact: Just because God said it, doesn’t make it automatic. Adam and Eve in the Garden? Remember that one? God supposedly said they’d die if they ate from the Tree of Good and Evil…took nine hundred years. Jonah? He was angry with God. Why? Because God told him to go to Nineveh and proclaim “in 40 days you will be overthrown.” Jonah knew God is a “gracious and compassionate God, slow to anger and abounding in love, a God who relents from sending calamity.” The city was not destroyed. Jonah did not like playing a fool.

Jonah knew God wasn’t going to destroy the city.

These days, most of us don’t live in the turn-or-burn prophetic reality. We tend to exist an ear-tickling environment full of “suddenlies” and “break through” and “blessing.” And I just might puke if I have to endure another “God sees you as a flower” prophetic word. 

My experience with the prophetic seemed uneven at best (although I do have list of truly fantastic prophetic moments I will eventually share.) Like I said earlier, as time passed I began to loathe the prophetic. I couldn’t hear God, or what I heard wasn’t what was said, or my interpretation always seemed to be off. Which naturally lead to atheistic thoughts. 

However, I see now I am entering a new era in my life. 2020 is my year of moving onward toward my great destiny with Jesus. And for the first time, it’s unconnected to circumstance. I think most if not all of my previous personal prophetic interpretations were linked to circumstance. I can definitively say circumstance is not what Jesus was after, and it’s not a place to define life. 

Some of the happiest and loving people on the planet have nothing. And suicide rates are roughly the same across social economic status- meaning wealth is not a mental/emotional insulator. 

I think if God were to manage me based on circumstance, I’d be a petulant child. My interpretation of His love and care for me would come down to my bank account and “adoring fans.” That’s not His way. Our Father wants a real relationship, not something based on transactions of praise or religious dedication. 

Perhaps I’m about to discover what the prophetic really is. I’m ready to move beyond the immature suffering- the my hurt-based judgement. God is good and speaks to those who listen. 

Lord, let my ears hear with an open mind and unfiltered heart. 

My Friend Gratitude

I’m not sure why self-pity or anger seem like the easier roads to walk. Perhaps they aren’t. It is entirely possible it’s easy for me because I’ve practiced running to their open arms most of my life. 

I have an embarrassing memory from my childhood to demonstrate my point. I was eight maybe nine years-old, and I can’t recall the particular offense. What I can recall, with vivid detail, is being so upset I wrote a letter to my parents, and let my tears fall onto the paper to punctuate my frustration and pain. (LOLOLOL What a scam.) Even then, at a young age, I felt sorry for myself. 

I’m kinda glad my parents didn’t feed my self-pity in those moments. Emotional intelligence wasn’t a thing in the 80′s, but neither was indulging every childish outburst. 

Five-ish years ago, I started my current engagement with Gratitude. I’m stoked to say what began as a method to combat anxiety and depression evolved into something exceeding my expectations. I now know Gratitude is about more than comparison or thankful excess. 

Gratitude is finding joy in a past relationship despite its end.

It’s celebrating the pure and good of every imperfect moment. 

It’s being present, stopping to notice the perfect of each moment. 

It’s also part knowing…it could always be worse. 

Ultimately, Gratitude is knowing life is gift, a wonderful gift. And our time in it is meant for the good and the pure, not hung up in failure and misery. Failure and misery are part of the deal, but they do not have to be “the deal.” Our hearts, minds, and bodies were meant to live and be alive- to drink every last ounce of joy from this Earth as possible. 

Without Gratitude, none of this is possible. 

“Look for the best in each other, and always do your best to bring it out. Be cheerful no matter what; pray all the time; thank God no matter what happens. This is the way God wants you who belong to Christ Jesus to live.”

1 Thessalonians 5:15-18

Frustrated and Defensive, sucks

I can feel the waves of defiance cascading through my thoughts. I’m arguing with no one. She’s not here. But, no matter. I can fight an empty room just the same. 

Today, I am letting myself feel the pain of rejection- real or imagined. It fucking sucks. I hate it. I hate the way I feel small and unworthy, as though nothing about me is acceptable. And I loathe how I turn into a dick, if only to myself. 

Despite these very negative admissions…I’m letting this happen. My heart is full of hurts I left unsaid, and I’ve learned to let it out. Ignoring a thing makes the thing stronger. It’s like a child with annoying toy. Once they know you hate it, they never stop playing with it. I’ve got to recognize this suffering. 

My heart HURTS. Lord…speak. Please. 

“Nik, you know she didn’t intend to cause you pain or discomfort. You experienced a fraction of what she went through. She gave you everything she had, and ran out of herself. 

I’m with her now. 

And I’ve got you. I love you, and I’m proud of you.” 

Lord,

I offer my wounds and my insecurities. I don’t need to defend or compare myself to anyone. I trust in you Lord, to give me purpose, hope, and joy. I believe in my great future, and see no lack in any area of my life. Thank you for sticking with me.

Amen. 

At 40, I’m Ready to Live

“With You[Jesus], there is no beginning or end, just being. And I aim to be me the rest of what I’ve got to live. My bag is full of wisdom to be applied, not dusty useless memories. I’m hauling valuable nuggets of truth and grace- treasures to share to the thirsty, and those ready to move onward.”

The above is part of a prayer I wrote last night. The beginning of this same prayer centered on the scattered state of my thoughts. The last month my brain has been on overload- creative thoughts, mixed with processes, big emotions, random opinions, long desires, and hope. And some fears. 

This morning on my walk, I shed a few tears while talking to the Holy Spirit. My brain likes to do its own thing, and I am exhausted by all the cranial activity. I’m going to have to learn how to focus on a few things rather than considering the whole. And I believe I will. 

The thing is, at almost 40 years old, I can see my life as load of treasure. Which seems somewhat odd. On the surface it’s doesn’t seem like much- lots of cooking, masturbating, some Jesus, some friends, a trip here and there, lots of debt, self-doubt, failed relationships, obesity, weed, and personal growth. Seems fairly basic to me. 

But it isn’t. I couldn’t see it for a while, but I’ve been moving up the mountain- not mired in the valley. I know how to overcome fear and beat obesity. I know the answer to porn addiction and fantasy jerk-offs isn’t as simple “stop doing that.” I’ve found answers to self-pity, anxiety, and hopelessness, been suicidal multiple times. I know how fucked that place is. Given the state of the world…don’t we need that? Don’t we need people preaching/teaching/sharing practical hope and joy? Don’t we need people who’ve been in the shitter, lost in a desperation, but found a path to Life?

So yeah. 30 something years of shit is suddenly pure gold. Wouldn’t change a thing. I’m ready to shine a light on the path to Life, and it’s a path everyone can walk.

Bring on 40.