the eruption of truth

the eruption of truth

For a period of my life, the yoga postures served me well. I grew through them and they offered healing to my wrecked dancer's body for a time. But then, as many of us do, I allowed the postures to guide my physicality and I ultimately suffered because of that. You could see photos of me in postures or practice next to me in class and think, "wow she is strong and flexible". The problem was that I unwittingly pushed myself to be strong and flexible only in the places the poses required and in the end this was not balanced or wholesome, no matter how much alignment and breath and safe sequencing I applied.

When I was in my final months of pregnancy and just afterward, my body was pulled apart where it was weak and disconnected. I am not alone in this experience and it definitely doesn't just happen to pregnant yoga practitioners, although the elevated levels of relaxin in the body along with the increased abdominal pressure certainly enabled this to worsen quickly. Through the process of reconstructing myself in the last two years and working with many other students who I believe have been harmed by yoga, I have realized how insufficient the posturing, and more specifically how insufficient so much of the instruction in this work is. 

I am not saying the postures do not contain insights, for they do, endlessly. I am simply saying that they are not enough by themselves. We have to keep looking beyond, beneath, inside and through them. The postures are patterns we set into bodies that already contain their own patterns, imbalances, incongruencies, imperfections and deeply individual insights. How can we not take the individual into consideration as we apply them? Alignment, as we may witness in some forms of yoga, takes us only so far on a personal level before it causes us to become rigid. Geometry certainly has its merits and beauty in certain yoga styles, but it doesn't break down or build up everything; it doesn't give space for all of the organic nuance and multitudes of asymmetry, in my experience. Flow is wonderful for moving without overthinking but it falls short in the realm of detail and precision, no matter how clear instructions may be. Breath work and opening pranic pathways means nothing if the physical structures are not addressed with integrity and after all, what ARE pranic pathways? What does that actually mean? 

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Paravrtti: Revolving, Re-Orienting and Lightening Up

When I first began to practice and then to teach yoga eight years ago, I was understandably enthusiastic and admittedly naive.  I thought my life had been changed for the better FOREVER.  I was intent on studying and teaching therapeutically minded, vigorous and heart opening yoga that I was sure would help my students as much as I felt it helped me at the time.  Nine years later, my practice and teaching have changed immensely, and through a variety of injuries attained and healed,  physical achievements met (and then met with a desire for more), and successes and heartbreaks both on and off the mat, I have begun to actually learn the value of evolving with a practice that supports the whole person, not just their muscle tone, flexibility or ability to achieve some temporary and surface notion of “inner peace”.  In other words, I have re-oriented my view.  

The word paravrtti (pa ra vrit tee) is often used in yoga asana to refer to the act of revolution in a posture (as in revolved triangle - paravrtti trikonasana).  In looking at Buddhist texts, it can also mean to to transform or re-orient one’s view radically; so radically that it can refer to the actual process of enlightenment…

I’d like to take the concept down to earth and discuss the paravrtti of one’s own practice and LIFE.  The question I ask myself each day as I step to the mat, sit on the cushion, plan a class, or even communicate:  "How can I meet myself and others with humor and compassion, yet consistently challenge and require the greatest amount of self-inquriy so that we can all benefit from this exchange?“  Who knew that was going to be a thing I asked myself often?  The paravrtti, or radical re-orientation of our view in ANYTHING comes from the act of asking ourselves to wake up.  Again and again.  This can be an incredibly re-orienting (and sometimes disorienting) process that is also, at its essence, quite painful, because it asks us to let go of the ways that we fixate.  How do we keep waking up?  By lightening up.  

Last night I had the pleasure of taking class from an amazing and humble gentleman, Gabriel Halpern.  His theme in class was "slacken the reigns” (read, LIGHTEN UP).  He mentioned the notion that our practice should be serious but the attitude on and off the mat should be to “slacken the reigns”.  We approach everything so tightly and with so much fixation.  Even our yoga practice, which is meant to create a sense of balancing opposites, can become too tight, too rigid or too aggressive.  Perhaps this resonates with you?? 

One of the things I have learned through the process of developing Breakti® is that in order for this practice to evolve, I cannot fixate on ANYTHING.  Not one thing.  In addition, if I lose a sense of humor, all else is also lost.  My process has been slow and careful, despite being pulled in different directions to quicken the pace.  The more that I work through the material over time with care and patience, the more I find freedom in letting go of old rigid ideas of what a practice should be.  

Paravrtti is to revolve, but it is also to evolve.  To evolve requires fluidity, grace and humor.  When we get stuck in fixation, nothing is moving, the air is stale and we feel trapped in the sense of deluded comfort we get from believing our ideas to be solid and permanent.  

Can you sense the areas of your own life or practice where you hold on with white knuckles and grit your teeth?  What would it feel like to let things go a bit, to release the grip and lighten up?  Yes, it feels incredibly scary, but I choose the wind in my hair, just over the speed limit and cruising in the sunshine over a sterile and stale safe windowless room any day. 




"little wing", or how jimi taught me mindfulness

last night as i finished class and headed down into the train for my usual thursday night commute, i was perhaps more tired than usual, more anxious to just be home in the warmth with my kitties.  the train came fairly quickly, which always brings me a smile, and i hopped on, sat and closed my eyes.  

the ride was easy, no glitches, no long pauses between stations.  at one point a passenger apparently skipped out of the train at the first stop in brooklyn, and as i watched the reactions of other passengers i noticed a man sitting further down the train where the passenger had exited smiling mischievously to himself, having witnessed the act of human joy firsthand.  in reaction to his smile, i had no choice but to grin harmoniously with him.  this made me remember, one more time (as i am reminded time and time again), how very available joy and beauty is to us in each moment, if we allow ourselves to fully witness the many textures and colors that life shows us.

as i got off for my final transfer to the line that takes me home, i noticed the platform was full, a good sign that a train had not arrived in some time and one was due quite soon.  i stepped to the other side of the platform and as i peeked my head around the corner, there was the g train in all her short glory taking the final turn into the station.  the momentary elation of a blissfully short commute was then superseded by the sound of a guitar and harmonica as i boarded the train.  

i settled in for the last seven minutes of my ride home, hearing what i finally registered as a tune by the doors.  the man singing and playing was really excellent and even mic'ed so he echoed through the car in which we all rumbled along.  

as he finished up the jim morrison tune, he started into the chords of a song i knew all too well…  that first screechy, percussive chord could only be hendrix.  and the song could only be “little wing”, and the memories poured in…  

back in high school, my friends and i listened to a lot of jimi, and at some point, one winter night while in a friend’s bedroom listening to music, one of my friends turned to me and said, “YOU’RE little wing, anya, that’s YOU”…  and from that moment, i was dubbed.  and so the song has taken shape to me over the years, it has molded to my being as a part of me, an echo of who i was but also a clear symbol of who i will always be, with the thousands of smiles i give for free and butterflies and zebras and moonbeams.

so as i sat on the train and listened, my eyes welled up with joy and sadness and nostalgia and with all of the things that “little wing” does not yet even mean because i haven’t discovered them yet.  each time i hear the song, i am in a different place in life, i have more layers of experience, and find myself in very different states of mind.  but each time, the song also shares something a little different with me, as if i didn’t hear a certain chord or note, or in this case, the way the musician sang was subtly different, perhaps a little less melancholy than jimi’s version.  all of the memories of being younger burst into my mind, but also were met with the sweetness of the evening, the gentleman’s mischievous grin, the unknown passenger’s skip out of the train, and the easeful and quick ride home on a tired night.  

this, to me, is how our practice starts to shape how available we are to the vividness of everyday life.  magic is there, always waiting for us to open to it, if we only allow ourselves…  and even in the moments that feel melancholy or nostalgic, we also must realize that whatever we remember, however painful or joyous, is also met with the opportunity of this moment we are actually in.  

we must open our eyes to our experience so that we can feel and see and hear the beauty and pain of everyday life…  and allow that to saturate our pores, the very cytoplasm of each cell.  in this way we dance with our path, we witness in stillness and move with grace to each experience as it approaches us in the great ballroom of life.  

i will always be “little wing”, and every time the song arises, i am instantly brought to the moment and the past simultaneously, and sometimes even the future as i wonder who i will be next time i hear it.  as i danced last night with time and sound and memory, the colors, faces and the sounds became hyper-vivid, almost technicolor…  and as we tumbled into my station i felt myself feeling a bit sad to leave before the tune played out.

but i also knew that i would travel on with that guitarist, even as the train doors closed, the sound fell away, and the train grumbled on.  even as i traversed the stairs and somewhere down below “little wing” played on, i would go and dance along with it.  

even as the night hit me with cold air and car horns, clear and pure and present, i danced on.

It is so important to recognize the moments that reveal what an amazing gift this life is….

… And the more you pay attention the more you may realize that each moment has that potential revelation.



my heart is filled with tenderness
great sadness and still waters


these are the lions that inspire fearlessness
wealth of spirit
open hands

at first glance we see the sharp teeth
potential scars from retracted claws
remember old cuts now healed or still scabby

upon gazing
we may see the softness of fur
fierceness of clear eyes
wisdom and great strength

if we allow ourselves to sit near
we can sense the tremble of sinew beneath skin
heat of breath
lightness under each paw

when we reach out and feel
there is always the possibility of a sharp swipe returned
but also still possible the genuine softness that yields and purrs


the greatest tenderness of touching that which might slice open or surround me
or that which may simply lie in repose
leaves me open-handed and paused
waiting, feeling with each nerve ending the possibilities

and i am moved to be fearless
not shying from abundance
not running from emptiness
abiding in the great sadness
and the still waters of this very heart
seeping from eyes that can unclose


if you didn't see the article i wrote in origin magazine....

here it is: 

from origin magazine - issue 5, march 2012

If I told you I were able to connect to myself, others, and what I believe to be the highest as clearly through hip hop as I do through yoga, would you look at me in disbelief? When you hear the word breakdance, does your mind evoke the antithesis of a mindful and contemplative yoga practice? If you nodded in agreement with either or both, I invite you to join me in a Breakti movement class.

From the moment I consciously opened myself to the power of hip hop music, I touched into an experience of self that I had only brushed up against before. When I danced and nodded to the music, the chasm between self and other

began to dissipate. Years later, a dancing injury took me to the yoga mat, where I opened myself consciously to the power of asana to heal my body. The repetition of movement and breath on the mat, though new, felt strikingly familiar – I found in it a similar experience of the narrowing gap between self and other, a return to my-self through myself.

The convergence of these experiences is what gave birth to the Breakti movement. Breakti unites postures and transitions from both yoga and street dance styles into a class that is at once challenging and freeing for both mind and body.

My mission in the evolution of this work has always been to open the space for my students to have an experience of both personal and cultural rhythm, a spiritual experience of themselves in relation to ground, music, and movement. Breakti is also a powerful cross-pollinator of cultures. Hip hop invites youth to experience the benefits of yoga. Challenging poses invite the archetype of strong men to learn where to soften. Beat-driven, exhilarating music invites those to class who might dismiss traditional yoga practices.

Breakti seeks to transcend our familiar stereotypes of what yoga or hip hop is, revealing instead a new path back to who we are. Along the way, it might teach you a thing or two about what it means to get down in your dog.


if you have any comments or questions, i’d love to hear them…  email me at ap [at] anyaporter [dot] com…

Turning Inward, Revealing Outward

put this out in my newsletter today…  for those that weren’t privy (you can always sign up on the upper right hand corner of my website)…  please read on..

The more that I tread down the path of evolving and creating a classroom that echoes the integrity that I wish to cultivate in my life as a whole, the harder I realize that process to be.  One of the most important practices I have had to cultivate is that of continuously turning inward.  In sanskrit, the word parivrtti denotes a turning, and often a turning inward.  You hear poses like parivrtta trikonasana (revolved triangle) or parivrtta ardha chandrasana (revolving half-moon pose).  These poses are both cleansing and clarifying in that they reflect on a physiological level this same process of looking in. 

When we look inside ourselves, gazing toward the light of our hearts, there are often many clouds and layers of dust that cover over that which ultimately shines with effulgence in all ways, always.  As we practice on the mat, attuned to the rhythm of our breath and hearbeat, the metronome of music, we can often begin to reveal our light through the work of being present in the challenge of whatever physical, mental, or emotional hurdles present themselves.  In this way, to turn inward, to nestle into the folds of our own clouds and dust so that we can find the light, is to also turn outward and reveal the brilliance we already contain once we re-discover. 

As we settle into the winter months, it is a time of constant turning inward to find ourselves exactly where we are.  Sometimes the clouds are thick and gloomy and other glorious days we may find our light with little effort…  but always, like the sun behind the winter haze, our light is there.  

kali city. yoga city. breakti city. (abridged)

i fall in love again with the city as if she is a fierce goddess…  dark and heavy, her humid hands cradle my face with a sweet remembrance that whispers decades of wonder into my ears. i move through sidewalks and subways like a waiting devotee, asking for a moment, a breath of her acknowledgement…  one space where i can fit in and be held, be heard and understood as her own. 

i have yearned for so long to be understood by the streets, to be absorbed and uplifted by this steel and concrete pulsation that is my home.  here we lie together hand in hand, me wrapped in her thick night, reciting mantras of hip hop and street music so she might hear me.  pounding my feet and hands and shoulders and heart to the dancefloor so she might feel me.

i forgot along the way when my heart was so deeply broken that she loves me, that in fact she IS me.  i descended into her bowels thinking that the underground was an endless night.  i stopped remembering the absolute devotion that i still hold in my heart…  the religion of her street-love. 

but now i remember again.  i remember she used to tell me how full we all are, how perfect and immaculate we are in our own grime and dissonance.  this trash and pavement is an opportunity to uncover a deeper beauty.  this city is a playground for harnessing our holograms of infiniteness…  one big yoga mat for a practice that moves on the rhythm and heartbeat and breath of millions of minds and journeys and stories.

i welcome myself back to her arms.  bhakti in my heart, i will offer everything because she is already me.  and i am she.  atha yoganusasanam.  here begins the auspicious discipline of yoga.  kali city.  yoga city.  breakti city.



Letting go of something you are afraid to lose is one of the hardest things we have to work with (along with allowing something in that you are scared of – really a mirrored image of the very same thing).  Our process of letting something go can take days, weeks, years.  In the end, when we are ready…  we let that person or idea or object go when we are fully ready.  And as we do so, a deep calm ensues and we recognize, once on the other side, all of the weight and thick heaviness we’ve been carrying through that time is no longer there.  The pain of letting go is replaced by a spaciousness that allows us to feel our own basic goodness and the basic goodness of that person, object or idea in its simplicity. 


"the rectangular plastic rubber bullet" (or "yoga takes forever!")

So much of the time we walk into these beautiful studios and classrooms filled with colorful props and light filled windows and serene floors…  and we expect that our body will reflect that same experience…  clean, clutter-free, warm and inviting…   we step onto our rectangle of plastic or rubber and we hope with all hopes that this next 60 or 75 or 90 minutes is the answer to the hardships of our day, our week, our year.

We set our intentions with the truest and most sincere steps.  We get into awkward poses, struggle to keep our breath steady, press our big toes down and our inner thighs back and try to keep our gaze turned inward and our ears and hearts open… 

And yet there are many times when we walk away still heartbroken, still anxious over work, still worrying about finances and relationships and body image.  Why is it that if we make our intentions clear and we do the “work” that our efforts don’t equal the inner equivalent of the studios we step into or the image we have from pictures in the yoga magazines?

Like any other PRACTICE or PATH, yoga is not a silver bullet for what ails us (or a plastic/rubber rectangular one for that matter), and fully awakening to the wisdom of the body, breath, mind and heart won’t happen overnight.  It won’t happen in a year or 10 years.  This is a journey that takes a lifetime (or lifetimes if you subscribe to that notion), and like other paths, we begin to learn that it is the path itself and the process of awakening that IS the beauty of ourselves in our yoga.

Perhaps over time we get a little more flexible in our hamstrings and a little bit stronger in our core.  Over time we get a little more flexible in our minds and a little bit stronger in a healthy sense of self.  Day by day, pose by pose, we learn when to work harder and when to let go and surrender.  Our awareness of our body becomes more subtle and curious, and in turn our observation of our mind reflects that. 

In a lifetime of physical movement and seven years of yoga practice (and now a burgeoning meditation practice) I can say that I never walked out of a classroom with an epiphany or a new way of living my life.  With my most stalwart intentions, I never came out of Savasana with those intentions fulfilled.  But I can say that over time, little by little, day by day, I have found myself more able to listen to myself and others, more tender and open, stronger and more flexible in mind and body, and perhaps most importantly, more willing to be patient and WITH the process, rather than needing to have some ultimate to reach.

I too still have broken hearts, still worry about finances and career success, still get impatient and say things I regret later…  as do every single one of my students and teacher friends.  But over a long period of time and practice, those things have softened and perhaps lessened in intensity and frequency and my compassion toward myself has grown immensely stronger in those very uncomfortable feelings and moments.

Did I learn it all from yoga and meditation?  Maybe not.  But I like to think that perhaps yoga and meditation have given me the tools to really learn from myself and others in a more genuine and open way.  And to be more open to process rather than product.

And so I say absolutely use opportunities for practice in beautiful settings.  Set your deepest intentions.  Do the work.  Pray.  Hope.  Bask in the bliss of post-savasana or a moment of a still mind.  And in between those moments of sweetness, in the times where you are stressed and disheartened and lazy and hating life..  there is still a glint of light that is the path and the practice.  Stick to it and you may find that in five, ten, twenty or a hundred years from now you are a little bit softer, a little more kind to yourself, and more genuine in all that you do and are.


our miami vices.

how many times can you recall pining after something that wasn’t your own only to find out it wasn’t nearly as big of a deal as you fantasized it to be?  this subject makes me think of a story from when i was in first or second grade…  me and my best friend stephany were supremely into MIAMI VICE and all things miami including flamingos, neon lights, and palm trees.  and of course don johnson. 

stephany’s birthday always fell 8 days before mine, hers was november 1st and mine was november 9th.  this particular year on her birthday, my parents gave her this amazing oversized flamingo shirt.  it was light pink with hot pink flamingos and said “flamingo row”.  and i was absolutely and utterly devastated that she got it.  i was so jealous.  i felt scorned, unloved, betrayed by my family, the world felt like it was moving in one direction and i had been left behind. I WANTED A FLAMINGO ROW SHIRT!!

i spent the next eight days pining after this shirt.  and in fact, i do believe i went sneaking in my parents’ bedroom looking for any sign of hope that i might also receive this most holiest of hotness clothing articles…  and guess what? i found one for me too in a bottom drawer SCORE!!!  and guess what?  after the one moment of satisfaction at my discovery, i also felt a sense of guilt and then deflation at realizing that 90% of the value of my prize had been built up in my own head.  now that i knew it was mine, it didn’t seem like such a big deal anymore.  (and i also had to fake surprise upon opening - sorry mom!!!)

the point is that we do this our whole lives.  we yearn after what we don’t have, we see something we think we need and sometimes even obsess about it to the point of overstepping boundaries with ourselves and others (like my parents drawers), only to find it wasn’t what we thought it might be once we do manage to get our hands on it. 

what’s your flamingo t shirt right now?  try turning it around and look at it without all the inner hype and know that if you do ever land the prize, it will more than likely be something other than what you bargained for. 

“a sense of humor goes a long way when looking at our miami vices.  a white and pink fashion color scheme doesn’t hurt either.” - Crockett and Tubbs

miami vice

heading into not knowing

every day we head into not knowing what will happen.  how do we gauge from day to day whether we are “doing ok”?  what are the measurements we will use in each situation to feel whether we are succeeding or not? 

did he call me?  did i do enough to show how much i cared for her?  did i write exactly what i meant to or say the things i should have said?  did i try hard enough to make this happen?  did i oversleep or undereffort?  did i miss a sign along the way that this wasn’t the right path?  did i do the wrong thing? 

these are the endless questions without real answers and often we beat ourselves up in the process of trying to figure it all out.  we negate ourselves by squeezing our humanity out of the picture and hold ourselves up to standards of larger-than-life-ness.  we do the same for others.  we expect and expect and believe it should be going some other way than it is and that it is somehow my, your, their, our faults that it didn’t turn out the way we thought.

but really we don’t ever know what will happen.  all we can do is keep on being ourselves and work to understand what that means and the bountifulness and limitations that reside alongside and inside us.  we are limitless, i believe, but we are also not superhuman most of the time.  being limitless does not mean that we will not face challenges and major hiccups along the way in discovering our own deepest truths.  or those same truths in others.

today might be an amazing day and tomorrow may feel like failure, but why?  how can we continue to sit with all of this and remain open on the inside, not closed off to the experience because we’ve already defined it as good or bad?

love, life, career, money, family, friendship, journeys…  these are not so simple.  but if we remain open enough, we may find so much beauty even in what may feel like pain.  and that openness will transform us forever.  that opportunity is ripening in every moment.  it’s never too late to open and stop measuring.


musings on the six month challenge...

so it’s been almost two weeks in my own challenge and things feel different and the same. all in one.  it’s hard not to want to push forward and say “well why haven’t i been able to accomplish this?"  "why have i broken this rule?”…  and certainly that comes up.

a good friend recently said to me, “why are you always trying to change yourself, why do you have to look at it that way?” and he’s right.  that’s exactly the same thing that pema chodron says when she talks about how we’re always trying to get to a place that is better or we somehow think there is a better version of ourselves waiting out there in the abyss of “future”…

within this framework of “self awareness and working on ourselves”, we tend to get really rigid and that translates to ultimatums.  i will only be GOOD if i do THIS or stop doing THAT.  usually there is something beneath that surface of rigid that is asking to be sat with.  for instance, i want to make more time to practice and meditate each day…  and when that doesn’t happen i get frustrated and internally aggressive toward myself.  the thing is that there is more to this.  why don’t i make that time?  and beneath that, what do i make time for?  and beneath that, what’s stopping me right now???   there are layers and layers and layers and layers that can be either sat with and worked through or not.  but getting rigid and saying “i didn’t do this today and that is BAD” only takes me in a very different direction that doesn’t feel helpful in any way.  but it’s what we do!!! over and over we do that to ourselves…

i ask myself that all the time… how do i explore this in a way that isn’t harsh or aggressive or rigid?  this is what buddhists may call middle ground.  and it’s not easy. 

i believe the answer is only to keep practicing, to keep working, but not with aggression or some sense that we are innately wrong, because we aren’t.  one thing that always resonated with me in anusara yoga and tantra is this idea that we are ALREADY so good and beautiful and divine.  sometimes it’s simply a process of peeling away some layers or dusting things off.  i like that.  it makes sense to me.  how could we really be innately BAD when we are capable of such beauty??

so the next time you find yourself beating yourself up for not doing what you set out to do… pause for a moment and see if you can first soften to your experience and yourself.  and then ask, why isn’t this working?  are my expectations too high?  what is stopping me?  is there something else beneath this layer of “fail” that is actually much more tender and shaky and hard to put your finger on?  then… work with that for a minute or an hour or a day or a week.  and just keep on like that.  take “fail” out of the vocabulary. 

we don’t have to just sink or swim.  we can float, dive, sit at the bottom, put our toes in, or stay out of the pool for the day. 


i hear forks on plates clink in an apartment nearby.

the brooklyn sun shines through my window and it’s quiet today, saturday.

somewhere there is gospel singing, lauryn hill blaring, a bus gaining speed, birds waxing poetic on the kings county trees….

my plants, newly watered, smile at the noon late summer light…  this is a good day for softness, for space away from work and space into myself.  this is a good day for parks and bikes and watermelon.  coffee sipping for three hours after waking up from my first full night’s sleep in weeks. 

no rushing, no fretting about names or numbers or trademark copyright payrate dogma idealism philosophical heartaches….

this is just fine here, me, my plants and the sun.  and brooklyn number one.

sitting inside ourselves is the hardest part when we peel away the layers each one tasting of sunshine or bitter herbs, muslin or steel…  we move down into the basement of our caverns and discover shining jewels amid the heartache and tender covered wounds…  there is peace enough in the space that we can sit with it and hold it if we try…  and tumble down with weeds our sloping landscapes resting in the basin of our grand canyon…  it is in this groundlessness that we discover our effulgence and beauty and in the discovery that we feel fully our own deepest disappointments and perceived failures…  we are always waiting at the tracks for the train to cross that never does until we step foot on the rail….  and when we are plummeted by the force of our inner high-speed line, we may begin to understand the stand-still of our hearts in moments of unearthing…  our pain itself is not suffering but if we choose to paint it over with colors and whiskey we may not understand that in time to see that the pain is always lined with gold and stars and whispers of the sunshine under the horizon….

sitting inside ourselves is the hardest part. 

there is always enough space in you for all that You are.  in this way we become as spacious and empty as we are abundant. the holding on and surrendering are both part of it…  and the experience of opening to your-Self is simultaneously beautiful and frightening. 

when we can sit with that experience and rhythm of brilliance or pain, that’s when the revealing really happens, and we start to experience our own tempo, cadence and beat as being both individual and an expression of Divine. 

- anya porter

this day of all days...

i awaken to the sun and let my skin soften to the light of morning.

we are painting tragedies upon our canvases while miracles lie nestled beneath.  this day of all days could be brilliant inside the cocoon of fear and i step from my dreams to the floor with feet that bear the weight of all of me, sleeping and waking.

we are centuries deep in our samskaras, yet the points of love and freedom and limitlessness point to something different.  in the waking and sleeping we return and return back to something sweet and subtle and graceful…  we return to our-Selves as our experience peels away the layers of perfect imperfection.  we become who We are. 

we always are becoming who We are.

- anya porter