The anvil expresses the solidity of the unchanging ground that is consciousness/brahman.

Consciousness is impossible to get “out of its place”. Never created, never perished. The one who is his true nature is like an infinite anvil. You could also say, from imaginary Teflon, untouchable, imperishable and independent. Like a Blue Lotus that repels water, like the fat plumage of a water bird gliding through the water. Or like a Tefal pan where everything slides off.

The smith hammers his names and forms on the anvil of saṁsāra; You are neither the smith nor the names and form, but the solid in-soil of both.