Aeryana Castley
Bio
I am listening through the static for the medicine of each moment. I teach off-the-mat yoga of relating well; write to see more clearly - and with a cherishing heart- singing more freely.
Stories (11)
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Practice makes Potent.
We all have big dreams. This might be true, but how often are we speaking about our dreams, lately? Forgetting our intrinsic, creative human capacity, the survivalist pandemic sweeps the global psyche unscathed. Dreams roll over, drifting back to sleep; until we - once again - remember who we are.
By Aeryana Castley4 years ago in Motivation
Mr. Stevens' Haven
I have been wanting to write this letter to you for years. It's kind of crumbling out from an old, yet sacred place in me. Somehow, I know if I keep writing, the way you quietly saved my life (and no doubt countless others) might go noticed; even celebrated.
By Aeryana Castley4 years ago in Humans
Sovereign Together.
I am passionate about distilling and sharing the catalysts which help people care more effectively and in turn, feel that life truly cares deeply for them. That their existence is an essential ingredient to the circles they belong to. I call this being a village rememberer. Think about it, nobody wants to work in a job at which they don't feel appreciated. Nobody wants to love where they are taken advantage of; quickly limited to a projected view of potential. I don't know anyone who wants to be sold the latest solution from someone who says it works for them so it should work for you. But where would you recall someone modelling the way to create belonging - that is if you were to pause and reflect on your workplaces, your relationships and your latest purchases?
By Aeryana Castley5 years ago in Motivation
ReWilding Curiosity on Canvas
Not a word of exaggeration, I am totally in love with what happens in the studio. That first slicing of the plastic and squawking of the tape as I mask off an area in the studio for our day long foray into a specific kind of wildness? Oh, now I love that series of rituals as they conjure a beginning of playfulness any adult would crave. A subtle smile begins to curve on my mouth as I trace my fingertips over the roll of canvas, its toothy and tentatively yielding integrity peels away under the robust blades of my best scissors. The crisp lines of its edges are then stretched into a new threshold of straightness as the linen is pulled over the stretcher frame and stapled with a confident “bam.” It's otherwise a quiet room this time with the house cat watching this minor transformation take place from a safe distance. The staple gun powerfully punctuated the room that always starts off clean- and for the time being- remains open and unassuming of the fun we will get into.
By Aeryana Castley5 years ago in Humans
