When Grief Feels Heavy, Let it Move You

Jun 29

Hey, Collective,

Let me be extremely honest with you. I’m tired, y’all. And I continue to feel this constant hum of overwhelm.

Not the kind of tired that some good matcha or a to-do list reset can cure. This is the kind that sits on your chest like a baby elephant, the weight of too much for too long.

At first, I wondered, “Is this perimenopause?”
Because, let’s be real: it’s always Perri, just ask Melanie Sanders, founder of the hilarious and affirming “We Do Not Care” Movement.
But when I spoke with a friend last week, she (somewhat) gently reminded me that I’ve been carrying a lot both personally, professionally, and spiritually.
And when you couple that with the compounded grief of this world…this kind of exhaustion starts to make sense.

The news doesn’t let up.
The injustice doesn’t pause.
And still we are expected to produce, to perform, to persist.

We are not just weary; we are living through chronic toxic stress.
The kind that accumulates over time.
The kind that doesn’t come from one event but from the unrelenting pressure of living in a world that rarely allows us to exhale.
This is the impact of persistent injustice, collective grief, and the repeated assaults on our dignity and psyche that have worn on us since the onset of the pandemic and continue today under this current administration.

So before we go any further, let’s pause to breathe.
To honor the weight we carry, the grief we’re holding, and the creative spirit still stirring within us. Let this breath prayer ground now, and as often as needed:

Breath Prayer for Creating Through the Grief

Inhale: I name the weight I carry. Exhale: I let my weariness rise without apology.

Inhale: I honor our collective grief. Exhale: I let it move through me.

Inhale: I remember: artists create in dread. Exhale: I dare to dream anyway.

Inhale: I am created by the Creator. Exhale: I create to carry freedom forward.

This pause is a reminder for me, too, as I told Emma recently on the podcast:

“Now is the time to create. We talk about being freedom dreamers. Our ancestors have always dreamed the new dreams, have always seen ourselves where we should be, not where we are. So what are we going to create?”

Power of Discovery

The Power of Discovery invites us to stop pretending we're okay and get honest about what we’re actually carrying.

Exhaustion isn’t just a signal from the body; it’s data from the soul. Discovery asks us to notice what’s unraveling within us and around us without rushing to fix it. It's about listening to our lives (and to our grief) without judgment.

This past week, the weight of it all (personal grief, political chaos, spiritual depletion) made it hard to move at times, but I kept coming back to Toni Morrison’s words (I implore you to read them in their entirety becuase her words resonate so deeply with this current moment. Read them here):

“Christmas, the day after, in 2004, following the presidential re-election of George W. Bush.
I am staring out of the window in an extremely dark mood, feeling helpless. Then a friend, a fellow artist, calls to wish me happy holidays. He asks, “How are you?” And instead of “Oh, fine—and you?”, I blurt out the truth: “Not well. Not only am I depressed, I can’t seem to work, to write; it’s as though I am paralyzed, unable to write anything more in the novel I’ve begun. I’ve never felt this way before, but the election….” I am about to explain with further detail when he interrupts, shouting: “No! No, no, no! This is precisely the time when artists go to work—not when everything is fine, but in times of dread. That’s our job!”
I felt foolish the rest of the morning, especially when I recalled the artists who had done their work in gulags, prison cells, hospital beds; who did their work while hounded, exiled, reviled, pilloried. And those who were executed…
…This is precisely the time when artists go to work. There is no time for despair, no place for self-pity, no need for silence, no room for fear. We speak, we write, we do language. That is how civilizations heal.
I know the world is bruised and bleeding, and though it is important not to ignore its pain, it is also critical to refuse to succumb to its malevolence. Like failure, chaos contains information that can lead to knowledge—even wisdom. Like art.”
—Toni Morrsion, No Place for Self-Pity, No Room for Fear, The Nation (23 March 2015)

And I remembered: We come from people who knew how to turn pain into possibility.

But here’s the hard truth: Some of us, especially Black women, have been expected to carry everyone’s pain. We’ve been praised for our strength while left to shoulder the world’s burdens in silence.

“Black women are the mules of the Earth.” —Zora Neale Hurston, Their Eyes Were Watching God (1937)

And so yes, we rest. But we also must unburden ourselves. Because to be truly free, we must first choose to free ourselves, and learn to trust community to help carry the load. Determination, then, becomes an act of refusal: a refusal to do it all alone, to be crushed by the weight, to stay silent. And instead, to imagine with others what might rise in its place.

Dr. Robin D.G. Kelley calls this freedom dreaming, which is the radical act of imagining and building the world we deserve. Not someday, but now. In this breath. In this body.

And yet dreaming requires presence.
To imagine what’s possible, we must first make space for what’s rising up inside of us.

Discovery Curiosities

What grief am I holding that I haven’t yet named?
In this moment, where in my body do I feel the weight of the world most?
Where am I being invited to pause, not out of avoidance, but reverence?

Power of Discernment

The Power of Discernment helps us to move from reaction to reflection, inviting us to listen for deeper meaning.

When the weight of the world feels too much, this is where we ask: What values are being tested? What ancestral wisdom is rising up in me? What does this moment make possible, even in its pain? Discernment turns grief into guidance. It helps us hold the both/and without losing ourselves in the either/or.

Now, let me be clear: this is not about bypassing the pain.
This is about alchemizing it.

I remember being in a somatic training with adrienne maree brown and Sonya Renee Taylor, where adrienne spoke of our ability to be great alchemists, transforming pain into something liberatory. Into art. Into movement. Into action. It reminded me of a Qigong class I once took in Hanalei, Hawai‘i, where we were guided to excavate the full range of ancestral memory (wounds, joy, sorrow, resilience) and offer it into our qi.

In Traditional Chinese Medicine, qi (pronounced 'chee') is our vital life force energy—the current that flows through all living things. In Qigong, we don't just move the body; we tend to the soul. In this class, we were invited to breathe into that energy field, placing all that we carried (without judgment) into the flow of qi. That practice wasn’t about perfection. It was about release. About presence. About becoming a vessel that doesn’t just hold pain, but transforms it.

That’s what it means to let energy move through. That’s what it means to listen deeper. For clarity. For care. For connection.

As Solaris Noire of the National Equity Project reminds us, freedom dreams are interdependent. They’re not just visions of liberation; they’re practices of it.

“We give freely to each other that which we are denied from the systems around us—care, grace, ease, and spaciousness.”

In other words, even when the systems fail us, we still know how to make room for joy, dignity, and belonging. That’s power.

So take a breath.
Not because you’re fine. But because you’re still here.
Still dreaming. Still discerning.

Discernment Curiosities

What small moment reminded me I am still alive, still feeling, still here?
What does this present heaviness reveal about what I care most deeply about?
What do I need to remember about who I am when the world feels upended?

Power of Determination

The Power of Determination is how we commit to intentional, values-rooted action that honors our interdependence.

Determination is not about hustle or urgency, but about choosing to move in alignment with who we are, what we believe, and the kind of world we want to co-create. It’s about transforming what wears us down into something that lifts us up and brings others along.

Determination recognizes that grief is not just a burden—it’s a spark. It reminds us that collective healing is possible when we show up with imagination and integrity. In this phase, we ask: What now? What next? What small action, rooted in liberation, can ripple outward into something greater?

We don’t walk alone. And we don’t build alone. Determination invites us to rise in community, to turn exhaustion into fuel, and to turn pain into purpose. It’s about alchemizing what aches and letting that be the ground we build something beautiful upon.

Determination Curiosities

How might I embody my values even when hope feels out of reach?
How might I turn this grief into a creative offering that invites others into healing or hope?
What part of my freedom dream can I live into (alone or alongside others) right now, even in small ways?

The Invitation

This week, I invite you to act gently but boldly. To respond to the weight you carry not with urgency, but with intention, integrity, and imagination. Let your action, no matter how small, be a ripple toward collective liberation.

Try this:

Start a freedom dream journal. Ask: What kind of ease do I want to feel today?
Share a dream aloud. Say it into your phone. To a friend. In the mirror.
Create something small. A sketch, a voice note, a prayer, a moment of stillness. Let it be messy. Let it be true.
Turn grief into movement. Dance, stretch, cry, or breathe—let the energy move through.
Make one decision today that honors your boundaries, not your busyness.

Because even when you’re tired, your soul remembers the way. You don’t have to build the whole world in a day. Just make one sacred move toward it.

Let your breath remind you that you are still here. Let your body remember what it means to restore in order to keep going. And if you can’t create a masterpiece, create a moment of truth.

If this reflection stirred something within you, I invite you to subscribe to my Substack for weekly Sundays in 3D newletter and early access to the Living in 3D Power podcast (new episodes drop every Wednesday).

And don’t forget to listen (or re-listen) to Episode 24 where we reflect on creativity, belonging, and legacy. Then send it to someone who reminds you to dream, even when the world feels heavy.

Suggest Podcast Questions

And if you're a leader ready to build a culture rooted in restoration, courageous truth-telling, and liberatory leadership, I’d love to work with you.

In solidarity, action, and love,

Amber

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