Raynna Myers: Writing & Photography

be the life giver you are

Be Gentle With Yourself, Know Yourself, Nine Tools

Love beat like a drum in my veins. Its rhythmic words: be gentle with yourself. It startled me, it sought me, it surrounded me — so that I could sing along one day. Sing, to you. During the rainy season here we watched the river change regularly in depth, tone, and speed. We didn’t know what it meant at first. It just was different from day to day. Soon, we.. Read More

Being Human, Needing, Surfacing, Camping, Fighting On—Together

We spilled out our heart, it got shoved back. We spilled out. Though beautiful, we were not seen. I…I took it back before there was a chance to be rejected again. I decided to keep my heart to myself. And, so the pattern goes. The truth is, I have often spilled in the wrong places, the wrong times. Being authentic doesn’t always mean entrusting fragile parts of ourselves to just.. Read More

Walking, Flying, Sinking—Fearlessly—Because our Fear is Inviting US, into Another World

When the fine rain came today. It struck me as though the air was manifesting some other reality I didn’t know was there, and then, of course it was. It was as though it was less falling and more appearing right in front of my eyes, one million drops at a time, as far as eye could see. Air becoming real, air coming to life, falling to ground to nourish.. Read More

Prayers Under Stars, Thoughts From Rivers: Help When it’s Not Easy

Five months ago, when we first transplanted our family of eight from the Midwest to our new home in the Pacific Northwest, we would see deer families seeming to play tag in our field many days. Tag! It was such a surprise. And, gorgeous Stellar Jays, five or six at a time, would flock to and seem to be playing hide-n-seek in the magnolia trees. It didn’t occur to me.. Read More

For When Your World is on Fire

There are wounds that wind our souls so tight we quit breathing from our bellies. That’s how babies breathe. Until the pain comes, we breathe from our bellies. Then we swallow the pain down to our guts and kill ourselves—but we simply think we’re trying to survive. And, in reality, we are. What’s so horrible about that? Why should surviving make us sick? It’s this question I have to capture;.. Read More

Digging Into 2018: Honest Reflections for Clarity, Resolve, & Life Giving

It’s the sting of the words that we can’t form, the ache in our chest and our throat searching for the relief of understanding, of being understood, that makes us freeze sometimes. There’s a sense of paralyzation even while we’re still fully functioning—going, doing, being—but still no relief. Then when come the hard things up on the horizon, it can be enough to send us into hiding. Tired, we wonder.. Read More

See the Son this Season: Daughters Return to your Rest

The color of night falling, when color seems most pregnant in the wilds, gives way to colorlessness. But I don’t give way to you. The color of night deepening with stars most outspoken, gives way to dawn rising. But I stayed seated when you entered the room. The color of my heart breaking as bright and as fine as the morning, gives way to the land called Glad. But I would.. Read More