Moments of Support | Anchor Into Now

Moments of Support is a curation of poetry, art, and restorative practices for navigating the now.

Art by Jess Breed
Poetry by Kate Belew
Movement + Restorative Techniques by Allison Walton

Remember, remember

This is now,

And now,

And now.

- Sylvia Plath


It was Gabrielle Epstein-Casper, a yoga teacher and psychotherapist based in New York, that instilled a variation of these words in me. I believe it was her timely cue ‘It’s Like This Now’ that fully anchored me into the true presence of my body upon arriving into tadasana (standing mountain pose). It’s Like This Now. A mantra I continue to carry throughout my movement journey, exploring each breath, transition, and posture as a tangible moment of now. 

And when applying this to the ebb and flow of each and every day, it reminds me to remain held in the presence of now, despite the fluctuations of emotions, circumstances, and evolution of time. 


Now I stir my coffee. 

Now I sip my tea. 


Now I simmer in shame.

Now I shimmer in sweet.


Now I move my body.

Now I rest deep.


Now I close my eyes.

Now I feel my heart beat.

Now I breathe.

‘It’s Like This Now,’ I repeat. 

As we navigate the dark current of this season, may we anchor into the depths of our own breath, lingering at the very bottom of every exhalation. Visualizing an anchor being dropped to the very floor of the ocean, taking its time to settle well beneath the surface before a new cycle (of breath) begins. 

We invite you to take a moment for yourself by either sitting or lying down, softening your gaze or closing your eyes if that feels safe to you, and simply being with the tides of your breath. If integrating sound resonates, here’s a curated playlist for you. Take a moment for the duration of a single song, or the entire playlist. Commit to the cycle from beginning to end so that the experience truly feels complete. 

After doing so, take your time to rise and rekindle your immediate surroundings, honoring the transition into your now - of today, tomorrow, and the many moments ahead. 

This well I pull from. A ladle of the body. I acknowledge my blue, I slow delight in my own water. A fathom is the length of my arms. 

Prompt: When you are a tide, honor each wave. When you are an anchor, what depths have you explored in your grounded nature?