Abstract: I Promise to be Average

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Hey Lady,

Yeah, Hi. My name is Nik.

I am imperfect and will do my average best to show you who I am.

Average? Yes, average.

Why average? Because.

I’m tired of trying “my best.” It never works out.

I’ve given woman after woman my best, and each turned me aside.

My best wasn’t good enough.

To my credit, I backed off the last one.

I said, “I don’t know,” when I didn’t have an answer,

and I was willing to look weak and be vulnerable.

I even cried in front of her— without regret.

As for you, you will get my average,

which I am sure sounds terrible.

Who wants average? The very word is offensive.

Don’t we all want the best? Obviously, we do.

Allow me to continue,

I don’t mean I am average.

Far from it.

I promise I won’t put effort into all your interests.

Meaning, I will not try to be Superman,

or look over my mental shoulder to see if you approve of what I like.

Sure, I’ll support you—100%.

But I’m just not going to care about every little thing you believe to be important, cute, or interesting.

That’s not real or sustainable.

You can be boring too.

Oh, I will be boring some days,

And anxious, nervous, distracted,

or moody.

And despite my great love for Jesus,

on occasion, my actions will contradict my Heart.

Trust me. I’ll know it.

You will not need to remind me.

I promise to try,

and sometimes fail.

I promise to misunderstand and take offense.

And I expect the same from you.

But I will try.

I will listen.

And, I will seek you out when a wedge dares form between us.

I promise to walk by your side— without end.

The butterflies are great,

who doesn’t love waves of oxytocin,

flooding through their brain?

I know I do.

However…

When the feelings die,

and we are left with who we are,

It will be my average you can depend on,

to see us through the valleys and dry places.

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Vol II: #9 Battling Depression

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Alone time can be a space to rest and relax or a space where our thoughts attack us. When the thoughts or emotions are dark, we tend to run into the waiting arms of distraction. It’s why we choose to fill our time with meaningless jobs, hobbies, or relationships. It’s why people scroll for hours on their phones, searching for small hits of dopamine. Whatever awaits inside us is too great a dragon to slay.

I seek out people to distract myself, because it’s easy to ignore my festering wounds when I focus on my friends or family. Hell, most of us consider it noble to serve the needs of others. Right? The greatest among you is thy servant…said Jesus, our Lord and Savior. But like anything, serving people can and is often corrupted. The enemy would love for me to serve others as I die inside. I know this because that’s the story of my life.

Lately, I’ve let myself be distracted- by TV, social media, and anything promising to hold my attention. The alone time I treasure became a place of conflict and rejection. By Monday morning, I was fully depressed, and I briefly considered alternative paths for my future. Why do I really need to go to BSSM? Why not just travel and work? These are the thoughts of a man trying to escape pain instead of a hopeful man living one day at a time. My mind literally hurts when I feel this way.

The truth is I am uncertain of what BSSM will be, and I’m impatient. Despite these insecurities and moments of doubt, I am winning the war against anxiety and depression. The life giving routines I developed since 2019 are paying dividends, and I’m not trying to think my way out. My grace and relief is found on my walks and in prayer, mainly because I gave up trying to understand every detail and nuance of my life. There will always be parts of me I will never comprehend. Maybe I have a chemical imbalance, or some aspects of life will always be a challenge. ’Tis…what it is.

Today, I choose to love me, which includes being kind and gracious toward myself. It’s an opportunity to reflect the goodness of the Lord inside me, on myself. It’s odd right? To think this way? But, it’s no less true. Nothing in the Gospel commands us to love ourselves less. Service is about bonding our fate to the fate of others, not self-debasement. When Jesus wandered into the mountains as He did, it was for love and to seek the Father. He went away to face whatever crap was on His mind and the issues in His heart. And if Jesus took time to challenge and defeat personal attacks of the enemy, so will I.

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Abstract: Armed, No Longer Helpless

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I awoke early this morning,

in a daze of depression and self-doubt.

Everything is wrong,

and all my answers seem void.

Why do I cycle through these phases,

from stability into emotional darkness?

My head is below the surface,

and the waves toss me where they will.

But I, through Love and Grace,

planted the seeds of salvation for this moment.

I can’t control my emotions,

but I decide if they control me.

This is not rock bottom.

I’ve been there before.

This fragment of life is a snapshot,

a sliver of unhappiness in a sea of gratitude.

I will write, hike, and pray,

work, cry and find laughs.

Whatever depression is/how it works,

Is not for me to understand.

I’m here to battle it,

through the intention of thought, through discipline, and love.

These are the moments the Spirit armed me to address,

and I will not back down from the fight.

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Vol II: #8 Going Fishing

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Despite twenty years of romantic frustration, I endure to hope. Even when my mind creates scenes of failure— to temper the dream- my heart refuses to quit. I know relationships are hard, but my chances improve the more hands I play. I know whatever frustration I feel today will melt away when the time comes. One day soon will be the last day I describe myself as single. And, today I am as ready as I’ll ever be. My vision moving forward is no longer obsessed with self-perfection, but fishing.

I, for most of my life, was afraid to set my sails with the wind. I battled insecurity and doubt, unwilling to raise my flag in a declaration of who I was. In a manner of speaking, I wanted to fish but never went fishing. After all, fishing isn’t unique or special. Do you know what else isn’t special? Insecure, people-pleasing, bitch-ass men too scared to blaze the trail set just for them. If I want to be loved for who I am, I best be who I am. All my years of trying to be someone produced nothing, so I have nothing to lose. Literally.

My Old Man recently told me I would “catch fish while I’m catching fish.” We both laughed because the phrase needed no explanation. Good, strong women, want and recognize good, strong men. Conversely, weak men and women find each other like ants on sugar. The stronger I grow, the fewer excuses I make for people. (Grace and kindness are not dependent on worthiness.) If a woman doesn’t text back for five days, I am not required to overcome her communication issues. I’m not an asshole for having healthy expectations. (I have no idea if Ms. Rachel was interested in me, but I know she respects me.)

In a way, I feel like everything in my life is imploring me to walk down the road so clearly under my feet. Yet, these steps have been a bit harder to take. I have stood at this intersection for months now. I say I want to make art and investing a priority, but they remain hobbies. They remain hobbies because I feel like an imposter in both fields. In all fairness to myself, I am an amateur in both fields. But…that’s not the point. This blog and my job in marketing taught me what I can do if I dedicate myself to a task.

Today is the day I dedicate myself to the task of investments and art, and I created a set of ambitious goals for each. Over the next year, until July 26th, 2021, I will draw 330 sketches. This does not include instruction time from my drawing instructor. Second, I will finish my options trading classes by August 6th, and begin to trade options contracts by August 9th. Then from August 9th, 2020 to August 9th, 2021, my goal will be to double my investment fund. These are small steps and I know they’ll lead to big changes. This is me going fishing. God, I hope I catch a fish.

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Abstract: Man vs Deer

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On the porch of the old blue house,

up the hill from the McDowell farm,

sat Mr. Lean.

He rocked a bit, as he looked across the lane to the corn field,

and the tree line beyond it.

His eyes focused thin,

to a clump of firs on the far end.

As though on cue, or perhaps sensing the moment,

a triumphant buck thrust himself into the open,

to the right of the firs,

then worked his way down to a row of uneaten corn silk.

He stopped to sniff the air,

but detected nothing.

Back to the buffet,

Up one row, then doubling back to get the other side.

Mr. Lean, now out of his seat,

moved swiftly into his old blue house,

a beat passed,

and he reappeared.

He charged back through the door,

with a Browning .306 in the left hand,

and a few shinny rounds in his right.

From the top step, he paused to shove both rounds in to the rifle.

An eerie calm over took the house,

as Mr. Lean raised his gun,

toward the proud buck still chomping on corn stalks,

unaware of the judgment to come.

Just then, and without reason,

that deer dropped to the ground,

out of site, and what for?

The wind hadn’t shifted.

Mr. Lean scanned the tree line,

that bastard is still there,

he thought,

so he held his aim, patiently.

After waiting longer than needed— to know the truth,

whatever happen, how ever it happened,

the proud sonofabitch got away.

He’ll be back,

opined Mr. Lean.

There’s a whole field of corn,

and deer will listen to his belly.

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Vol II: #7 DFL is my Friend

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On Sunday, I will drive down to Oakland for a pre-wedding party with my friend Daniel and his fiance, Rachel. (It might be a shower, but I don’t think gifts are expected.) Daniel and Rachel live on the left side of the political divide. The last time I visited the couple in May of 2020, they sat all the way across a large courtyard outside their apartment. Needless to say, they took quarantine as seriously as you would expect people who watch MSNBC. It will not shock you to know their wedding will be a Zoom wedding. It’s also the reason I was shocked to see an invite to the impromptu party. I thought they were too scared to plan such an event.

Despite the fear, I love Daniel. We share a love of food, culture, and art. He’s the one who introduced me to the best parts of San Francisco and has been a good friend to me since I met him seven years ago. He’s loyal and honest, and I trust him. Something I really love about Daniel is he loves Jesus with all his heart, and…he’s as liberal as one can be.

Where I grew up, one was not allowed to love Jesus and vote Democrat. I’ve literally heard preachers say as much from the stage. It’s wild to think as I grow older— preachers intentionally made politics a stumbling block for people. I get it. How can someone love Jesus and be pro-choice? I don’t have an answer, but I know they exist because of Daniel. (The answer is we are all imperfect. No one has perfect theology or doctrine. Heaven is stocked with people who loved to the best of their ability, not perfect theologians.) Besides, each of us believes something fake or untrue.

I love my friend, and I could care less about his politics. Relationships matter more than self-righteousness. Daniel doesn’t demand I agree with views, and I make such no request of him. Our bond goes beyond our thoughts on government. At the base of each of us is a heart for humanity and to live justly. Daniel adds a different perspective to my life, and I am richer for it.

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Abstract: Paddling

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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.

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Vol II: #6 The Cliche But Real, Dog Days of Summer

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Historically, this time of year, late July through August, is my least favorite part of the year. The weather is hot and dusty, and friends are off on vacation. Additionally, this part of summer lacks a holiday or noteworthy event. I feel like I’m sitting in a warm airplane, sweat on my back, circling the runway. And, it’ll be another six weeks before we land. It’s a perfect test of the mental and emotional health I have developed since last summer. What will I do to pass the time? It’s a gift, after all. What if I meet my wife in the next few months? I’ll look back at this time as the last true alone time of my life. I want it to count for something.

I see a trap in my thinking and have the wisdom to sidestep it. What I do not want to do is set some hardcore goals as a means to judge the coming weeks. I do have a few targets in my mind, but they mostly involve showing up to the tasks, not the quality of the work. (Quality comes after we decide to do a thing. I’m still in the “I need to do this every day” phase in some areas.)

My blog remains a constant encouragement and source of inspiration. I’m thrilled I completed my first goal, as well as to the changes I made to my writing schedule for year two. I can see the progress when I read back through older posts. I know I need to take the same approach to my artistic endeavors. Today isn’t about being a master artist, but I can take one step closer. Same for tomorrow.

I write about this process to remind myself of what I need to do. It’s still a mental battle to put my pencil to the sketch paper. Once I do, I’m ready to proceed. But, on some days, it’s hard to get there. I am happy to see where I am as a writer, and I whisper to myself, “where will you be in a year if you draw every day for a year?” My lips form a smile and betray the answer of my heart, “I’ll be 10x the artist I am today, on my way to where I want to be.”

What’s left of the Dog Days of Summer is my opportunity to establish my artistic practice. I don’t have the distraction of a heavy social calendar or career demands. Art is important to me, to my life. When I start dating that woman it’s something I want her to know and experience. To date, I have not done a proper job communicating or showing as much. Now is my chance to set the tone for the rest of my life.

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Abstract: Galatians 2:20, If I Wrote It

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I was murdered with Jesus,

when He was nailed to a cross,

hung between convicts,

naked and broken.

All of my cruel character flaws,

fears and shame died with him.

Now and always,

My life is about trust, not control,

Love, not fear,

And kindness, rather than approval.

In the Lord, I am everything good and complete,

because that is His heart from me.

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Vol II: #5 The Setup…Bonus Content

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I didn’t anticipate another chapter to the story of The Setup(Part 1), but here we are. You may read Part 2 via this LINK.

Saturday evening, I hauled ten pounds of grilled tri-tip over to a friend’s house for dinner. My friend Gabe, a bald, middle-aged man with a bushy red beard, is set to move to Nashville in August. While I wish he would stay in Redding, it’s what’s best for his family. Gabe and his wife Sara have six children, and California is expensive. They made green beans and mushroom side dishes to accompany the tri-tip, a proper California meal. We stuffed ourselves and talked about what their hopes are for the future.

A few hours later, I said my goodbyes and walked out the front door. On my way to my car, I glanced down at my phone only to discover a text from Rachel*. Yes, Rachel. That Rachel, the one who ghosted me earlier in the week. I was instantly annoyed. “Why did she bother to text me now?” I wondered. I waited until I was safely home to read her text. It was kind yet unapologetic. Rachel acknowledged her communications gaffe and offered to meet me for coffee the next day. A small part of me admired her boldness- to reply days after my last text and to ask me out. A small part of me…

The devil on my shoulder wanted to blast Rachel with my thoughts and feelings regarding her communication style. The Jesus in me knew better. It was not the time to remind a fellow human— and child of God— of her imperfections. My task was to be kind, honest, and gentle. I decided to let her down as easily as possible while being firm and direct.

I told Rachel I appreciated her reply, but the window of interest was closed. Then, I thanked her for the coffee invite and wished her luck. She thanked me for my answer and wished me luck too. All-in-all, I was who I was, and so was Rachel. We weren’t on the same page, and that’s ok. “Onward and upward,” my good friend Blake says.

The next day, Sunday, I thought about my response to Rachel’s invite. Was I too harsh? Should I have been more gracious? Or forgiving? The answer to all three questions is no. Four days between texts is too long. Period. As for grace and forgiveness, I have forgiven her and I was gracious. That doesn’t mean I have to pursue her romantically. Healthy communication is important to me, vital even. I do not want to begin a relationship with a woman who can’t seem to communicate simple needs. (I respect the fact Rachel ‘isn’t a texter.’ If she would’ve sent me the same text Tuesday or Wednesday, or even Thursday, we would’ve had coffee on Sunday morning.) I don’t know if I did the right thing. I made the best decision for myself with the information I had on hand.

Late on Sunday, I received a text from Carrie, the woman who tried to pair Rachel and me. She apologized for Rachel’s actions, and I told her not to apologize. Adults are not to blame for the actions of other adults. I was thankful for the opportunity and consideration. It’s high praise when a woman offers to connect a man with one of her friends. So, I thanked Carrie for her efforts.

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When I look at the last week concerning Rachel, I find strength in our actions. Whatever Rachel is facing, it was a ballsy move to text a guy four days after his last text. I applaud the courage needed for such a move. And, I like how I handled the situation. I didn’t let my emotions control my responses, and I was kind to everyone involved without backing away from the moment's strain. Is this what healthy conflict looks like? I believe so.

Onward and upward.

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Abstract: Off The Porch

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I left my soul on the back porch,

beneath the old wooden swing,

the kind held by chains to a pole.

I let him rest in the shade,

to enjoy the evening,

and the glory on the clouds at sunset.

He needed a break,

a moment to ache without burden,

or expectation.

Upon my return, I found him gently rocking on the swing,

puffing a pipe, and smiling at me,

through the grey smoke.

“You ready?” He yelled, with a wink.

“The path isn’t easy,” I replied.

“The mountain is still there.”

“I know,” breathed my soul,

as he stared beyond the tree line toward the shadow of the range,

his pipe now empty.

For a beat,

we waited,

and listened to crickets at play.

Finally, my soul took to his feet,

stretched his legs,

and renewed his smile once more.

With the cold resolve of a champion he whispered, “Let’s fucking go.”

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Vol II: #4 TF Is Wrong With People?

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This is not a scheduled post, but it’s my blog. And, I’m angry.

What the fuck is wrong with people? Seriously? When did we just start to ignore the results/fruit of things?

Today, a well-respected minister made a passive-aggressive (per his usual) anti-vaccine post. His followers were all too happy to support and defend his misguided position, and the few people who dared to oppose his view were rebuked on the spot. A few other ministers chimed in too. It was a discouraging display of ignorance and arrogance. (Discouraged is not a strong enough word to describe how I felt as I watched it unfold.)

Not to be outdone by conservative stupidity are the young communists now singing the praises of Marxism. MARX-ISM! Y’all remember that bullshit? 100-150 million people were slaughter or starved in communist countries during the last century. That’s impressive. Capitalism can’t hold a candle to that type of murderous rage.

How is either of these groups ignoring historical facts? True facts? Vaccines work. They are pro-life. Communism is a terrible curse on our planet. It does not work. And, don’t come at me with “the COVID vaccine was rushed, isn’t safe, etc” crap of the bull. Then-President Trump started to roll out the vaccine in December of 2020. Soon after, we witnessed a steady and consistent decline in cases and deaths. Why? BECAUSE VACCINES WORK. As much I have celebrated the departure of Trump, he pushed the vaccine through and saved thousands of lives. (Only after saying COVID would “disappear.”)

Want the stone-cold truth as to why all this is happening, you ready? Here it is:

The enemy’s number one job is to kill, steal, and destroy. By any means necessary. People who are anti-vaccine are partnering with the spirit of deception and death. It’s that simple. Same with our young Marxists. The folks who believe in communism are unwittingly siding with self-righteous arrogance, death, and bondage.

But, the Lord God Almighty is greater. He’s greater than petty social or political battles, and I know He’ll win the day. That’s my truth— where my heart is. So, to all you crazy anti-vaccine and silly wannabe communists, I love you. Despite the fact you are wrong, I am for you. Your imperfection does not disqualify you from love and grace. The Lord’s eternal word over your life is “I Love You.”

Lord, bless me with the ability to see beyond the bondage and chains of my time. Fill me with hope and faith for the plans you have for us. Amen.

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