upward energy

It’s a strange thing, to feel both lifted and weighed down at the same time.

Maybe you feel it, too—the dissonance.

The swirl of upward energy in a world that’s so often pressing down on the most tender things.

The desire to expand or speak up… while carrying the weight of what’s still broken.

A lot of this upward energy for me is riding alongside a deep grief and anger. About the ongoing violence. The bigotry. The creeping fascism that somehow keeps getting normalized. I don’t talk about it all the time, but it lives in me, and I believe that honoring what’s rising doesn’t mean pushing away the pain.

It means making space for both — the heaviness and the hope.

The heartbreak and the momentum.

If you’re quietly feeling that weight too — you’re not alone, and it’s okay.

So here’s what I want you to know:

If something’s stirring in you right now — a boundary, a truth, a quiet yes or a very loud no — listen.

It doesn’t have to make sense yet.

You don’t have to know what to do with it.

But it’s worth honoring.

💡 A Somatic Tip for Too Much Upward Energy

When we talk about prāṇa vāyu, we’re naming the upward flow of life force. In balance, it feels like breath expanding through the chest, lifting our energy toward clarity, presence, and inspiration.

But in excess—or when it rides too close to grief—it can become overwhelm.

Scattered thinking. Sleeplessness. Spiritual bypass. Even anxiety dressed up as “ambition.”

When that happens, I return to this question:

What helps me stay with what’s rising, without floating away from myself?

Here’s one thing that helps:

Weighted breathing.

It’s simple. Lie down. Place a folded blanket, sandbag, or yoga block across your lower belly or hips.

Breathe into it. Let the weight anchor your inhale.

This small act signals to your nervous system:

You don’t have to leave your body to hold all this.

You can stay right here. Grounded. Honest. Present.

There’s no single fix for the pain we carry—or the systems we live inside. But I believe deeply that staying in our bodies is a form of resistance.

So is gentleness.

So is breath.

You can feel the heartbreak and keep rising.

You can stay grounded and still let something lift in you.

This is not either/or. This is both/and. This is the practice.