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 everywhere it passed through, everything it touched. This, not by trying, but rather simply by being. I came to life too. I grabbed a pen to write it down, to remember.
I’ll need this vision when I live in the desert some day. To remember when I saw what air can be, what air is, in another world.
I live with a certain someone in my home who always wanted to live somewhere able to walk from green to snow, walk from one kind of environment to another—like walking out of one world into the next.
He wanted to go to a place where the borders were near, not hours away. He doesn’t want to be just here. He wants to be here, and. He is better than me in this. I often fear, what at first appears to me, as uncertainty.
As I write this we can walk from about 9 inches of snow right into a moist forest of old trees covered in old moss with big ol’ deep green ferns all around their feet and ours. Another World, here, and.
A different day now as I write, I’ve been in an airplane much of the day. Night has come and I can’t see the stars, but I am getting that grand airborne view of us. From the sky, I can see us, our glowing towns and cities we buzz around in, our demarcated, borderline-happy, us.
This whole two thousand mile wide trip I can’t stop thinking about us, and about our borders. The darker it gets the less lines I see, less boundary lines, more lights.
I still can’t see the stars in the sky. Rather, it is similar to being at home deep into the hills unhindered by the city lights looking up at the stars. Tonight, though, I’m in the clouds looking down at the ground. I’m usually looking for the diamond studded pictures in the sky, but tonight I’m looking for pictures in you and I.
I found one. It is something true. But it was not comfortable. The more I thought about our boundaries and fences, and watched the glorious stars take their place (you, coming into view from over 30,000 feet elevation) I was comforted. I was in my comfort zone. I was glad to see the fences fade. I have been afraid of the unknowing the fences mean, the separation they bring.
What is on the other side?
Afraid to be uncertain, isn’t that what it means to be “on the fence”? That’s where the name calling begins, “Wishy-washy. Not loyal”, they say. But the clearer the picture looking down from the clouds got, the more I could see. Fences never really fade. There is work to be done there. Maybe “on the fence” is exactly where we need to be?
But the other side of the world
Is not so far away
And the distance just dissolves into the love
-Rich Mullins, The Other Side of the World
Dreaming of Another World, Another Me, Another US
I heard a whisper inviting me closer to the fences, to come see. At first I saw a mirror. I mean, I thought it was a mirror. But actually, it was me, I was staring from the other side. She’d come from the hills, I’d peered in from the sky. We didn’t have to ask why. I was she, she was I.
In fact, it was just then we realized, we’d been there our whole lives. We were yelling at one another, like in a dream now.
Finally, we bent low to the ground in exasperation over the oddness of it. When the gravity of the reality of it all found us—we found tools. Surrounded, we saw signage for workers wanted, some other signs too, some needing cut down, some signs needing repair. We found instructions lying about for fence demolition, remnants of maps left behind.
A fierceness grew inside me to get to myself on the other side. I found an ax. I remember signs that said things…
Semi-automatic. Bump stock. Religious cliche’s, candy wrappers, and drug company ads littered this place. But I had one thought: I had to get to me, on the other side.
Nothing else mattered anymore, I saw myself there, and I needed help. Ignorant, before I came to this fence, this place of unknowing, uncertainty. Now I saw I had to risk the name calling. I had to release the fears and lies that paralyzed. I needed help, so I would choose to risk. Yes!
Though I didn’t really risk did I? I was flying high above the hills, looking at fences trying to find stars. Wait, I didn’t mean to come here at all. How did this happen? I felt afraid. I said, “I was afraid”. Then I was here. Honest roads keep taking me to the most unexpected places.
Wait, wait, clouds are here again covering my view. Oh the stars, I can see the stars. Gosh, I guess I never left my flight. But wait, what about me? She’s no longer here.
Waking to Life and the Children Marching for their Lives
Peter, oh it’s Peter I wish I could talk to now. He saw how Jesus crossed borders right there in the Pharisees house. He even saw Him walking on water, even though at first he wondered if Jesus was a ghost. He called to Him there. I love that man, desperate honest, throwing away pride.
Peter, you faced your fear…even when you came crashing down. The image of God reaching down and pulling you up. Oh, now I see. You met you there, in the same way I just met me.
We have seen 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…
So. When the children are marching for their lives March 24th, right in front of my eyes, one million faces at a time as far as eye can see. Oh God, help me see, it’s me! It isn’t the issues, it isn’t the lies! It isn’t the organizations, of course “they’re” corrupted—it’s you and I!
Air becoming real, air coming to life, falling to ground to nourish everywhere it passes through, everything it touches. Air I gasped for. This, not by trying, rather simply by being afraid.
Fear, you again? Inviting me, to the place I need to go again?
I came to life, I grabbed pen to write it down, to remember.
I need this vision. To remember what I saw air can be, what air is, in another world. To not be afraid to breathe, like walking out of one world into the next, like meeting the image of God, me, and not just seeing, but learning how to meet the needs.
Right Where I Am
He wanted to go to a place where the borders were near, not hours away. I’m not afraid to go with him anymore. At worst, I might crash through the water, I might gasp for a deep breath. But isn’t that really, at best? Isn’t at best, when we might cry, “Lord save me! Save us all!”?
The darker it gets the less lines I see, less boundary lines, more lights.
So, as I write now, we’ve begun our final descent. Another world, that wasn’t so far away after all.
I grabbed a pen, so I wouldn’t forget. Don’t curse the darkness, light a fire. Don’t let the unknowing be the end, let it remind me truth and fearlessness begin there. Don’t be distraught. In the dream, we’re waking in, listen for one thing: the image of God crying out to you and me.
From the centre to the utmost bounds of the everlasting hills all is Heaven before God, and full of treasure; and he that walks like God in the midst of them, blessed. ~Thomas Traherne
Hi, I’m Raynna Myers. I’m an author, photographer, homeschooling mom to six children, and a wife of nearly 19 years. I’m learning how to be the life-giver I was created to be, in the image of my Creator. This is where I share the journey, because I believe we need each other.
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Find my book of prayers Pray, Like a Woman in Labor on Amazon.
You took me with you on that journey, eloquently!
Beauty & truth! Love and Grace!
“All these illusions that I had…just vanish in Your Light… Everything that could be shaken was shaken, and all that remains is all we ever really had” (R.Mullins)
Grateful!! Thank you Larissa! Love those lyrics, but most of all that reality!
“The absolute simplicity of Phenomenal Depth is within this essay. With it, I traveled to the cellular level of my own blood base, touched my own universe of dirt, inhaled my Creators breath once again, and saw His fingerprints on my soul. Reading your essay was like riding the wind of a Holy River that flowed with infinite ease…”
Goodness! Thank you for reflecting that back to me! I’m so grateful, praising Abba.