A NOTE FROM ANTHONY
I'd like to come closer.
For years I've shared myself in large groups, and it often feels one-way. I reveal who I am and offer what I've been asked to share, yet I rarely hear back from you. At this stage of my life, that's no longer enough for me.
So I'd like to be a person you can actually reach, rather than a teacher on a stage: someone to walk the land with at ASHA, to share a tea with when I'm travelling, to sit with, one to one.
This is self-remembering, not self-help.
A life, in a few breaths.
Every life is a hero's journey: an ordinary world, a call, a descent, a return. Here is some of mine.
LINEAGE
A rebel philosopher, walking alongside you.
I'm the nephew of Nicola Abbagnano, one of Italy's great existentialist philosophers, and his questions have always been in my blood. I see psychology as our rather mechanical attempt to understand ourselves. Bring breath into that, a supernatural force, and something else becomes possible. That mix is the alchemy I work with.
I've done my own long work through shadow, depression and self-hatred, and come back. That's what lets me sit with another person in their hardest places without flinching, and bring back some context they couldn't see from inside it.
People have compared me to Gandalf more than once, and I'll happily take it: someone who walks alongside you, carrying a little light for the path.
"His presence even brings to mind Gandalf. Practical, playful, compassionate wisdom."
MARK WALSH · EMBODIMENT UNLIMITED
A few true things about me.
Not a CV. Just some of what's actually here.
I'm a fast man who teaches slowness.
I move quickly, think quickly, build quickly. And yet the thing I'm told I do best is help people drop into a slower, truer awareness. I'm still learning to take my own medicine.
I've been down in the dark.
Boarding school wounds, depression, self-hatred, a near-death illness that left me with little but my breath. I don't romanticise any of it. But I came back, and that's what lets me sit with you in yours.
I'm happiest one to one.
For all the stages and the global community, the place I most get to be myself, playful, present, unhurried, is sitting across from a single person. It restores me as much as them.
I was an architect first.
I restored old stone buildings in Italy before I ever restored a person. I still think like one: breath, to me, is the architecture of the human experience.
They call me wise and cheeky.
I'll happily own the cheeky. I walk alongside people, not above them, and there's usually more laughter in the room than anyone expects.
I live by the sea, and rarely swim in it.
For me, it's really more about it being available than needing to be in it. That's a clue as to how I hold most of life.
What I do now.
Fewer things, done closer. Mostly, it comes down to presence.
