I’ve lost count of how many times a student has apologised in class.
“Sorry, I need to rest.”
“Sorry, I can’t do that today.”
“Sorry, I’m not very good at this.”
And I always wonder: who are you apologising to? Your body for having limits? Me for being human? Yourself for not being someone else?
The solar plexus chakra sits right in the centre of all this apologising. Just above your navel, below your ribcage. It governs your sense of personal power – not the kind that dominates or controls, but the kind that lets you take up space without permission. The kind that knows what you need and doesn’t require external validation to act on it.
For many of us, that’s been dormant for a very long time.
What Manipura Actually Means
Manipura translates as “lustrous gem” or “city of jewels.” It lives in your solar plexus, associated with fire – the element of transformation, digestion and the will to act.
This is where you metabolise everything. Not just food, but experiences. Emotions. The demands placed on you. The stories you’ve been told about who you should be.
And here’s what I notice with women in their late forties, fifties, beyond: we’ve spent decades digesting other people’s needs. Partners, children, parents, colleagues, friends. We’ve become extraordinarily good at reading a room, anticipating what’s required, shape-shifting to meet the moment.
But when was the last time you asked yourself what you need – and then actually did it without negotiating yourself down?
That capacity lives in Manipura. And for many of us, it’s been on a very low flame for a very long time.
When Your Fire Burns Unevenly
An underactive solar plexus shows up as chronic self-doubt. Second-guessing every decision. Waiting for someone else to give you permission before you act. That low-level fatigue that comes from constantly deferring to others, even about things that only affect you.
You might notice difficulty finishing things. Starting projects with enthusiasm and then… nothing. The energy just dissipates. Or feeling like a victim of circumstances, as though life is happening to you rather than something you’re actively shaping.
When it’s overactive, you might swing into controlling everything. Micromanaging. Needing to be right. Using anger as a way to feel powerful because somewhere underneath, you don’t quite believe you are. Perfectionism that exhausts you but feels like the only way to prove your worth.
Neither is about character. Both are just patterns. Ways you’ve learned to navigate a world that often asks women to be small, accommodating, endlessly flexible.
Your energy system is simply showing you where the fire needs tending.
What Balance Actually Feels Like
When Manipura is balanced, you make decisions without agonising over them for three days.
Not recklessly. Not without thought. You just… know. You trust your own judgment. You can hear advice from others without being derailed by it. You can say yes when you mean yes and no when you mean no, and you don’t lose sleep either way.
There’s a steadiness to your energy. You finish what you start. Not perfectly, not always on time, but you see things through. You feel capable. Not superhuman – capable. There’s a difference.
You stop apologising for taking up space. For resting when you’re tired. For having preferences. For being exactly as you are in this moment.
I’ve seen this shift happen. A student who used to ask permission to modify a pose just… modifies it. Someone who spent years letting others choose the restaurant suddenly says, “Actually, I’d really like Thai.” Small things. But they add up to something significant: a life where you’re present as yourself, not as an accommodation.
The fire is steady. Warm. Reliable.
Working With Solar Plexus Energy in Practice
Core work is the obvious entry point, but I’m not talking about endless crunches. I’m talking about poses that ask you to hold your centre while everything else is in motion.
Navasana (Boat pose) – held just long enough to feel your core engage, your breath quicken, your mind try to negotiate an early exit. Stay. Not grimly, but with curiosity. What happens when you don’t immediately give in to the discomfort?
Plank variations. Not for aesthetics. For the felt sense of holding yourself up. Of being your own support. Of discovering that you’re stronger than you think.
Virabhadrasana III (Warrior pose III) – standing on one leg, body parallel to the floor, arms extended. It demands balance, strength and focus all at once. You can’t think your way through it. You have to trust your body to find the shape. That trust is Manipura.
What I love about these asanas is that they don’t let you hide. You’re either holding yourself or you’re not. And when you discover you can – that your core is strong enough, that you can balance, that you can sustain effort – something shifts. Not just in your muscles. In your sense of what you’re capable of.
Twists are powerful too. They literally wring out the solar plexus, massaging the digestive organs and creating space. Seated spinal twists, Parivrtta Trikonasana (Revolved Triangle pose), anything that asks you to spiral from your centre. They help you metabolise – physically and energetically.
And breath work matters here. Kapalabhati – skull-shining breath – is a rapid, rhythmic exhale that stokes your inner fire. It’s energising. Clarifying. A few rounds before practice can shift everything.
Off the Mat
Notice when you defer unnecessarily. When someone asks where you want to eat and you say “I don’t mind” even though you do mind. When you apologise for needing something. When you downgrade your own preferences to keep the peace.
Not to judge yourself. Just to notice.
Then experiment with small acts of self-assertion. Choose the film. Book the table you want. Wear the colour that makes you happy even if it’s “too much.” Stop mid-conversation and say, “Actually, I disagree.”
Eat foods that support digestion. Your solar plexus is intimately connected to your gut. Ginger, turmeric, anything warming. Stay hydrated. Notice how your body feels after different foods. You have authority over this. No one else knows what your body needs better than you do.
Wear yellow if it appeals – the colour of this chakra. Or bring it into your space. Sunflowers. Lemons. Morning light. Sometimes the reminder is enough.
Finish something. Anything. The book you started. The project half-done. The email you’ve been avoiding. Completion feeds Manipura. It teaches your system: I am someone who follows through.
And here’s a radical one: take up space. Physically. Sit with your legs uncrossed. Stand with your feet hip-width apart instead of ankles crossed. Let your arms rest where they naturally fall instead of folding them small. Your body knows how to be big. You’ve just been taught to make yourself smaller.
STOP.
What This Really Means
The solar plexus is asking you to stop waiting for permission.
Not from me. Not from your family. Not from some imagined authority who gets to decide if you’re worthy, capable, enough.
You are. You always were. The only person who can grant you permission to live fully is you.
For those of us who’ve built entire lives around being helpful, flexible, the one who makes it easy for everyone else… this is deeply unfamiliar territory. It might even feel selfish at first. Claiming your own authority. Acting on your own judgment. Prioritising your needs alongside everyone else’s.
But here’s what I’ve learned: when your fire burns steady, you have more to give. Not because you should give it, but because you genuinely want to. The resentment lifts. The fatigue eases. You stop feeling like you’re constantly running on empty.
You become generous from surplus rather than from depletion.
Manipura doesn’t ask you to burn yourself out trying to be everything to everyone. It asks you to tend your own flame. To trust yourself. To act from your centre with clarity and confidence.
If you’d like to work with the chakras more deeply, The Chakra System is a dedicated course exploring each energy centre in turn – a lovely way to bring this understanding into your own practice.
Next in the series The Heart Chakra ~ Anahata