“For all these songs speak of love. But they all sound the same.

One for hate.

One for loss.

One for passion.

And the names go on. Then will we tire of words?
Or better yet, our emotions?”

I like songs that have good choruses. But if it doesn’t…or has a pointless succession of words with no intent, I’ll probably forget it.

I’m not sure how the radio charts (meh) are doing right now. But I’m sure  it’ll be doing the same thing like the past ten years.

Thankfully, my life has been all pretty depressing, bright, random, joyous, and crazy.

But the chorus? Has been the same. Maybe essentially.

Never just one genre though.

(even though “shoe gazing” goes on quite a bit)

The underlying sounds, the friction of tones and my invention of phrases and lyrics, all to the desires of my life.

As repetitious as they can be, there’s a reason for them being laid down. On the track.

As I keep understanding things to the best of my ability, I keep truly holding on to the fact that this song will end.

Sadly, as much practice goes on, this will not be perfect.

Nor will the years show me otherwise.

One thing, one need, and ultimately one intention, is simply to end true and satisfied with each line of this under produced lo-fi creation.

And as each line bears its mark of total difference from the last, I can’t help but scream out the chorus.
Closing my eyes tight, tapping out this rhythm of seasons.

With some glorious claps, and yells as well.

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Showing that our time should be within the consuming desire to have, to cling to things that makes us more human.

When everyone knows that all we have is this minute. But that’s a terrible idea. We couldn’t possibly be withholding from ourselves… could we? Spreading the idea that we’re here for a reason, or that our existence is all just accident.

No matter what I believe, no matter the meaning of my days or priorities, I want to live.

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To know that life is more than what I make it to be. I make it for what it is.

To feel pain. To awaken my spirit with adventure. To be honest with myself. To be passionate in anything and everything.

But the world still swirls and tumbles along.

Making me try to believe that I’m more human, than man.

That I should run to another land and live inside a cave for the rest of my days.

“That would be terrific.”

I think to myself today.

I am more than I am now. More than any one person’s words could define. And that’s the way it should be.

I should be meant for discovery, always.

So I’m going to let the world do what it always has. The best I can do is keep from going insane as I see time scraping away. And as the world sways its arms and staggers around, as a drunkard looks for another drink, I’ll keep to the fact that all this mess is for something bigger.

More than any one human mind can make.

And no matter the excuses we create.

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As he glances heavily at “hippies” and soft hearted people, he doesn’t want to know them. Much rather, he wants to be left alone.

With his paper and etched on scowl, he drinks deep of his endless coffee cup, peering over its brown stained lid, wishing they’d all just go away.

Maybe to some sort of hippie tent camp and get away from his beloved town.

Cursing under his breath as young adults pass by, thinking that these two just read his mind.

Old, crotchety, weather beaten, and tired of the same old crusty drapes his house has.

Maybe I should just go over to him, introduce myself as a hippie, sit myself down next to him and drink our coffees together.

He would love that.

All the glares and stares backed with his unexpected scowls, maybe he’s just questioning.

Even longing to tell his story to some young ears, if they even care to hear.

He’s always been good with keeping distance, seemingly there, but just inches away from arms distance. Let them have their long hair, head bands, and vintage trappings.

This man is missing out on more than just conversations.

“As long as I have my coffee and my chair out of the way, I’ll be safe from these crazies.”

I notice I’m doing just the same.

Observing, enraptured, and content with my solitude of distance.

As his gaze catches to me, I’m not ashamed to look his way. After all, no matter what he keeps making himself believe, or muttering under his breath secretly, I’m well aware that he is loved.

Raising my over used paper cup slightly to the sky, all he can do is purse his lips, and look back down at his paper.

And I, to mine.

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The progress of faith shows beyond physical limit.

What terrifies me is that my love will stop. Not for others or even what I believe in, but for it’s direction. As I’m sure many have tasted the extent of their love, and even what has happened when a misdirected love finishes it’s course.

Where it will take me, and where it might not. I’ve loved many people and adventures that have taken me to better myself as a trusting ragamuffin, for the breathtaking measure of faith and love.

The journey for me will never end.

With all these stories around me and from me, I can only wait for the resounding sound of my ending run.

I would never choose a different life or even a different path though.

The toil is known.

The discomfort of choices the willingness to be who I need to be for an image of unabashed love from someone meaningful.

If my life, my heart, and the home I dwell at, shows the measure of beauty for a faithful loved filled life, I’ll take the pains, the lost love, the doubt of myself, and the discomfort…ten fold.

No matter my moment of weakness or the actions that make me fall to the lower levels of this home, I will daily rise.

Make this home for the distraught and ill loved lives.

The ones that are worn or tired from a lifestyle of darkly laid plans.

I’ll fall asleep every night with the idea of eternal life, flashing through my eyes at the rate of flashes in times of dark strife.

My heart is big enough, my home is meant for it.

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That being said, I’m pretty good at serving myself different forms of “humble pie”. Yep, time and time again, I find myself being a beaten man by my own loathing remarks of self doubt. And I always wonder how others hold up with their own thoughts of themselves?

I’ve been doing it longer than I care to admit.

Another thing? Lemon meringue, peach, and apple are too scrumptious to not mention, who could resist a piece of brilliance with a fine oven baked crust surrounding it? Anyways, back to the subject at hand.

In all actuality, I’m grateful for this somewhat harsh and pitiful take on myself and life.

I’d hate to see a guy who’s quite the opposite of discontentment in character traits, because I’m sure I would be as a more prideful, selfish, and desiring a more glamorous life “kind of man”, then I am now.

That’s not to say I’m an awesome guy or anything like that. I’m just glad God put this spirit of “self gratification” awareness in me…and know a jerk when I see one.

Because I’m very much sure that some other spirit (that does just the opposite of that) would find it’s way to weasel into my heart.

Then comes the the compounding layers of an identity that is wrought with the desire to be the misleading character of my own heart.

I can do without the untruthfulness of that disgusting belief.

The more I push away from the knowledge that my weak and fragile human heart is paying already for the sins of my father and my own life, I grow to the understanding that Jesus has much more for me to do.

And I’m sure in the end of things, when I get to see the scarred hands of the Son of God, I can be sure to honestly say;

“I did all that I could, with all these days not promised with my life, with You by my side.”

And you know what He will do…?

Reach out to me and grasp a hold of my face, with the words clearly etched upon his eyes of love and mercy.

And that beautiful Creator, who I believe knows every little shameful and stupid thing I’ve done, yet still believes in me, He’ll say;

“You’ve done all that I believed you could, you have spent my love on ways that have won. And for that I have brought you here to be with me, to not be filled with doubt of your existence, and to see who I truly am. For I know the sin and the hardships of you..and I love you…Now let’s go party.”

((Something pretty close to that.))

That piece of everlasting and merciful justice, will ring in my ears, until I can no longer stand.

Then he’ll catch me, and wrap those carpenter arms around me…till my existence is reached beyond any recognition.

For that slice of truth and beauty, I’ll commit anything to my heart.

For we all know pie is much better than cake.

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I have moments where I’m aware of just how crazy odd I am.

Usually, those times have something to do with myself in the context of how weird I get when I’m talking about my writing to someone. I get a bit uncomfortable, start shifting my weight from side to side, and start furtively glancing around at things while I try not to get too eccentric and odd with the discussion at hand.

Jokes are made, (usually at the expense of my awkwardness) and then the moment passes. But I’m still aware of the impending questions that weren’t really answered. Especially when I know I could have answered them as sure as I could have taken another breath.

But I’m too uncomfortable with talking. I’m a great person on the phone, maybe if its catching up with someone or even just randomly calling someone to see how they’re doing. I’m never comfortable with it fully though.

I’m glad for where I am now. I’ve learned, loved, and don’t regret. Not when I see where I’ve come from.

No matter the awkward pauses, or even the mild stuttering attacks when too many thoughts bombard the mind. I’m in constant wanting of the permissive attitude that I’m just a little crazy.

That sort of thing humbles even the most wildly prideful, arrogant, self seeking, etc, blah blah blah.

Or it just tells me “You are a little off the handle, Joraie. Maybe even too inwardly eccentric and emotionally private, but who said that makes you even less of a man? Or a person? So what if you’re worried about how others judge you, stick your mindset on spiritual cravings and watch those eyes fall.”

And when it comes down to it, I’d much rather be left alone in times of “social living”.

That’s mainly because, well, I’m just not too good at small talk, and the silence is more comfortable than the screaming mouths of others indifference and disbelief.

Maybe you already know this, maybe you don’t, or maybe you frankly don’t give a flying finger about it and anything related to me.

Some people find me awkward, or bashful or shy. But truth be told I was just never a fan, not to be a jerk or anything, but I just figured if I’m going to talk, it might as well be about something that actually mattered.

As uncomfortable as I am with writing at times, in different ways, I wouldn’t want it any other way.

Because with all this discomfort and removing myself from the safety zone of mediocrity, I get to see the truth in interesting ways. Truths about myself, others, and as well as the measure and level of love God has for me in times of desperate situations.

I realize in my desires to lead an adventurous life, with all things (be it traveling, and meeting all these beautiful people, roaming about like so), I’m realizing that life is meant to be enjoyed for the essence of its opportunity.

I think I get that from my mother, to be quite honest.

Wanting to have adventures and experiences that makes you feel alive, or even making you feel that liberating freedom that’s aptly called a “reckless journey”.

The fears and worries are all still there, and I’m sure they’ll always be there ten years from now, but I know that no matter what I’ll always be held onto.

And I’ll always be a little bashful and uncomfortable with certain topics.

But I’m never one for mincing words or dulling down things.

So through all this, for the conclusory object of a wildly odd and off topic subject, I’m not changing anytime soon.

And if I do in the next couple months? Well, I’m sure I won’t be the only one who notices it.

Because I’m really just another crazy man in the wilderness.

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]]> http://aclearunderstanding.wordpress.com/2010/06/06/maybe-thats-why-old-man-river-never-made-it-up-that-mountain/feed/ 3 joraiehaynes http://aclearunderstanding.wordpress.com/2010/04/28/im-quite-the-disaster/ http://aclearunderstanding.wordpress.com/2010/04/28/im-quite-the-disaster/#comments Wed, 28 Apr 2010 16:39:17 +0000 Joraie Haynes http://aclearunderstanding.wordpress.com/?p=140 ]]> I’ve always known myself to be a force of bottled up desire.

Or even pent up emotions hidden away even from my family. When I deal with my own things, I tend to deal with it on my own. Emotional and spiritually, usually. I like to quitely deal with my disasters of the heart, rather than throwing myself around, in a fit of discomfort of bad situations. But that doesn’t mean there’s something terribly wrong with me or even a twisted person to meet. I believe I’m different, and know I’m different, as will I always be. Just like everybody else is intricately unique in their own way, dealing with trying life situations and the messy beautiful ongoings of living. And how everybody is a complete disaster on their levels of admittance, and continually need to press into something that will give peace and correction to the pain.

I “accidentally” wrote this on March 21st. Really planning on writing something for my blog, but rather coming out with something that my personal journal is rife with. A lot of allegorical, descriptive, statements, and a little morose at times.

So, just drivel and goop.

But beauty can be found in the most peculiar places. As well as its honesty.

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How could I make myself see something more than this idea? As I shelter my mindset to this protection of grace.

If each day brings its shimmering promise of hope, can it be focused on a demise of the future?

I once thought myself as a person who imagined the potential of everyday adventure.

But that’s a lie.

As I clearly see the cliff on the corner of my eye.

I know I’m that close to the ending of another season, or a different story.

No one showed me quite the adventure of desire.

Never taking the word of others or their pages of knowledge.

Only the thought of going out and committing adventure to my blood.

To the very feeling of my hands and ruthless taking that wells within my heart.

That I would have stories to myself, and have experience as my faith.

A double sided coin to say the least.

As disaster and calamity scrape by this vessel, I tarry on.

Letting go of the impossibilities and the reassurance of a comfortable life.

Knowing full well the outcome of everyday not promised or given.

I’ve wept, bled, cursed, and screamed my existence.

To an end of seasons, and my discolored heart of a body.

But I’m joyful.

Not for blessings, or for the friends along the way.

But faith is a gift becoming lost.

Holding, yet still, to my imagination of beauty and understanding of love.

The rust of fear and doubt plague my gears, claiming more than just my mind.

I have seen the journey’s end, as well as more heartache, and more heart numbing seas spanning ahead.

What else direction would be given if not for this one?

Believing lofty things will hold me above, as I spread my arms up and out. Grasping for that always timely hand of graceful understanding.

Where else would we see it if not for these waters?

Stagnant in the valley of comfortable faith?

Heaped up in the mines of theologies?

No, never there.

Presumably bright and hot, with the weltering understanding of purpose, and the proclamation of radical action.

Within hearts near of utter disaster and death.

Raspy voices in the dessert dying to be shown these oceans.

Regardless of understandings but pressed so deeply into need.

We have to be true disasters.

Awaking every moment. To see love have its dance once more.

So bring yet another tide.

Another storm.

I will keep living in this ill lighted ship, with masts full of hope.

Eyes yet still ahead, with the knowing of those high cliffs on either side.

I am still blessed to take these breaths, to live on regardless.

Whether it be cliff, or high water.

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]]> http://aclearunderstanding.wordpress.com/2010/04/28/im-quite-the-disaster/feed/ 1 joraiehaynes http://aclearunderstanding.wordpress.com/2010/03/24/no-ordinary-beauty/ http://aclearunderstanding.wordpress.com/2010/03/24/no-ordinary-beauty/#comments Thu, 25 Mar 2010 04:14:12 +0000 Joraie Haynes http://aclearunderstanding.wordpress.com/?p=133 ]]> I’m pretty sure we all know the extent of all material possessions isn’t filled with real beauty.

I look at these clothes, ones I may or may not have, and I don’t think any original beautiful thoughts.

Really only wants, and glamorous selfish desires. I stink of it. So very much.

I can be very much satisfied with what I have, but don’t think I (or maybe even you) really want to be.

My eyes keep wondering around, catching these glances of fashionably temporary items, and think that I am in dire want (or really need, at times) of these.

The problem with all of this, is that there’s nothing wrong with this.

Maybe so we think.

It scares me, to think that some countries are so ran by its commercials or idealistic nature of all possessions.

I’m in the thick of it as well. Battling with so many vain thoughts, I can’t even have time to consider what thoughts stem from what image or how to get down to the root of the want.

And every time I step back, I’m so thankful for grace and the knowledge that Jesus understands all this.

From every thought that arrives in our head, to the very desire that drives our hearts.

Every bit and morsel.

To know He isn’t someone who picks on me, or totally scare the daylights out of my bones.

But a Being of true and unmeasurable beauty and peace.

I believe that’s why nature spills His glory into our eyes, mountains and valleys teem of His splendor and power, and the ocean grips our eyes with the majesty of a God who knows a thing or two about beauty.

Maybe that’s why we keep buying things at an alarming rate.

Or change fashions as easily as the seasons.

Purchasing with no intentions of the needing.

There’s no mainstream knowledge of beauty. We are lost.

For we run to things that distract, and things that form our mind to a crazy idea of the definition.

I very well do not know what beauty is anymore.

What I do know, is what is beautiful to God, and to the Son of His who died on the cross.

Beauty is sacrifice.

It’s all the created nature outside.

Living, breathing, growing, learning, loving, hugging, and even dieing.

With each other and for each other.

I believe no matter what “label” of a person you think you are, all were made to be unrefined, and prolific beauties.

Just as the mountains were formed, and the oceans were filled.

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]]> http://aclearunderstanding.wordpress.com/2010/03/24/no-ordinary-beauty/feed/ 1 joraiehaynes http://aclearunderstanding.wordpress.com/2010/03/17/these-dreams-will-be-as-glass/ http://aclearunderstanding.wordpress.com/2010/03/17/these-dreams-will-be-as-glass/#comments Thu, 18 Mar 2010 04:32:04 +0000 Joraie Haynes http://aclearunderstanding.wordpress.com/?p=120 ]]> They come and they go, but the good ones stay with you forever.

I picture myself ruling lands, saving women, running over hills, and having terrific super powers.

At one point, or another, these images progress in my mind as I sleep.

Then the hour comes when I have to wake up. My eyes letting in the unfamiliar and unwelcome light of the sun. As well as the harsh reality of it all.

Now sleeping dreams are a different story, when it comes to living dreams. Yes, I’ve had wonderful ideas and dreams to be something different and better

And then I awake somehow. It scares me to think it can shatter so easily at times.

In a split second, when the dream matters most, when all the world hangs upon this grand dream, filled with promise and action, it snaps away.

With a flutter of a wink, and a gasp of air.

To dream so easily and beautifully and it to never be? It makes you terrified.

That maybe your life is that changeable, that flippant.

I once imagined myself as an NBA star. When I was much younger, I was all about basketball. The legend, the icon, and immense character of Michael Jordan was my idol in that world.

I was sure that I was forever going to have basketball as my life.

I didn’t know dreams could die. Or that new ones sprout out of the ashes.

Don’t get me wrong, I was a darn good basketball player at that age. My heart just stopped dreaming these grand plans for that future.

I still enjoy a good match with friends from time to time, but nothing to go up against the tenacity of a professional game. Much less, a Michael Jordan inspired one.

I think I just wanted a beautiful adventure with what I loved. Little did that boy know, it takes motivation to see dreams through to the end.

Since then, I’ve had more terrific dreams and certain loves that have taken me to different places.

Maybe all dreams aren’t suppose to be gone after, or maybe that’s just a bold face lie or excuse.

I’ve known certain people to give up on things they’ve worked so hard on. But their heart wasn’t into it.

I don’t think talents or gifts were meant to live without passion or love.

Whether it’s a sleeping dream or you’re dreaming wide awake.

No matter what subject of desire it is, I believe the level of faith and measure of understanding within you, is the reason to your restless dream filled state.

It’s up to you to sort amongst the madness, the insane (but never impossible), and new ventures in your mind.

The place that rests delicately between your eyes, and your heart that is in so much want of adventure and purpose, that begs to be understood.

With or without your eyes open.

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I always keep thinking that maybe we’re all just completely lost.

We keep losing ourselves in the sense of what our time and measure should be.

Like what do you love doing? What makes you thrilled with the excitement and the adventure to live?

I keep forgetting that God provides no matter the condition of our heads. We wonder what makes us tick, or why we’re living for another day.

Essentially, I can’t really tell you.

I know for me, my existence in the here and now, is to write in a journal, on a website (or wherever), or having a verbal discussion about the politics of the heart.

Who cares if I’m making money or if I don’t have enough “right now”.

I’ve encountered many obstacles and lessons in life to understand that God has my back.

Regardless.

So many measures of my life seem to stem from what I’ve failed at, what a disappoint  I can be.

I’m not living to be told continuously that I’m human and make an insane amount of mistakes. Or even really a magnet to problematic  situations. (Faith does indeed have a purpose.)

I’m living for mercy, for the One I love, for the adventure of my heart, and to be a testament of a beautiful mess for God.

So excuse my often times brash remarks of love and the beauty of the outdoors.

What I crave, is to be understood as a servant of God, and a man of adventure.

Forgiveness has brought me mercy and opportunities. To be someone who is a little ridiculous at times, and drinks a lot of coffee. To be a huger. To say kind words. To serve others when I can. To seek justice.

And forever live for the adventure.

Read all you want about another persons life, be enthralled by words of truth.

But always, always, know your true measure. What makes you scream for life, the bad and the good.

Your life is just as what you make it, what you put into it.

I’m no saint or perfect believer, I’m just as scared as you are.

An understanding of love can take you so far.

But living love out?

Now that’s the true adventure.

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