SEQ: Connect to Self, Others, and the World Deeply

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Blending Emotional and Spiritual Intelligence: Adding connection to Yourself (awareness), Your Familiar others (belonging),, and the World (insight).

A story that shaped everything

My wife Lynette and I were at a conference in Italy for 6 Seconds when all our stuff was stolen while we stopped for lunch. We came back to the car, looked over the top of the car, and started laughing — not because nothing was lost, but because we chose meaning and connection over panic. The CEO of 6 Seconds noticed how we were handling it and suggested adding a spiritual layer to their emotional intelligence assessment, the powerhouse that had rocketed around the world into 185 countries. That seed became a one-page profile report and a 27-page development report that helps people understand how their connection in the world is working and thriving.

Spiritual Emotional intelligence (SEQ) blends thinking, feeling, and sensing clarity, emotional regulation, and a felt sense of connection and purpose. To apply this effectively, it helps to see connection at three domains: yourself, familiar others (friends/colleagues/community, family), and the world at large. Below I use the SEQ assessment — brief indicators, reflective prompts, and development actions — to help you integrate connection practically into each of the three domains.

 

How to use the SEQ assessment concept.

Think of this like a quick self-check: for each domain, rate yourself from 1–5 (1 = rarely / 5 = consistently). Then use the prompts and development actions to grow. The aim is not perfection but awareness and repeatable practices.

Domain 1 Awareness— Connection to Yourself (self-awareness): Quick self-check indicators:

  • I know what grounds me and can return to it when I’m shaken.
  • I treat myself with kinder language during setbacks.
  • I can identify my core values and make small choices that align with them.

Reflective prompts:

  • What makes me feel truly at home in my own skin?
  • When I’m distressed, what internal voice dominates (critic, protector, supporter)?
  • Which small gestures (breath, pause, note) make me feel anchored?

Development actions:

  • Morning Awareness Check: 2 minutes — name one value you’ll live by today and one bodily cue to monitor (e.g., tight shoulders).
  • Ritual for small setbacks: Ground (60s breathing) + Reconnect (ask: what does this reveal about what matters?).
  • Narrative rewiring: Practice telling one short story each week that emphasizes resilience and connection to yourself.

Domain 2 Belonging — Connection to Familiar Others (friends, colleagues, local community and Family): Quick self-check indicators:

  • I can express need and receive care within my family.
  • We have shared rituals that create community.
  • Conflicts are resolved in ways that preserve connection.
  • I have a balanced network: people who support me emotionally, practically, and intellectually.
  • I show up in community with consistent, small actions.
  • I both give and receive in friendships.

Reflective prompts:

  • Which friendships sustain my sense of purpose, and which drain it?
  • Which family rituals help me feel rooted? Which are missing?
  • When family tension arises, how quickly do I move to blame vs. curiosity?
  • What roles do I habitually play (rescuer, fixer, avoider), and how do they affect connection?
  • How regularly do I invest time in people closest to me?

Development actions:

  • Family “Connection Minute”: weekly check-in where each person shares one moment, they felt connected and one need.
  • Conflict pause: name emotion, ask one open question, reflect shared values before problem-solving.
  • Create a family map of connection: list people, places, and shared practices that generate belonging; keep it visible.
  • Map your Belonging Network: list 6–8 names across roles (mentor, peer, creative friend) and commit to one outreach/month per person you want to strengthen.
  • Practice compassionate curiosity: in conversation, name your feeling, then ask “What mattered most to you there?”
  • Micro-rituals of presence: three minutes of focused attention (no devices) when meeting a friend or colleague.

Domain 3 (Insight)— Connection to the World (Higher power, people all over the world, causes, and meaning). Quick self-check indicators:

  • I feel part of something bigger than myself (nature, cause, tradition).
  • I can find meaning in setbacks by connecting them to larger narratives.
  • I contribute in ways that align with my values.

Reflective prompts:

  • What larger stories (civic, spiritual, environmental) provide me with meaning?
  • Where do I experience awe or transcendence? How often?
  • What practical contribution can I make that affirms my connection to the world?
  • In workplace interactions, when do I feel most seen and when do I feel invisible?

Development actions:

  • Weekly Meaning Inventory: record three moments of connection to something larger (a natural scene, a piece of music, volunteering).
  • Public acts of connecting: small consistent contributions (time, skills, donations) to a cause you care about.
  • Embodied practice: regular time in nature or contemplative practice that cultivates a felt sense of connection.

Putting it together:

Try a simple SEQ-style one-page check (Go here for PDF)

Create your own one-page Connection Snapshot. Columns: Write each Domain | and your Current Rating (1–5) | One Strength | One Next Step. Complete it weekly for a month and watch patterns emerge. This mirrors SEQ assessments (short, actionable, feedback-driven) and invites SEQ reflection (meaning, role in the larger web).

Use this sample example of a one-page layout (use a notebook or digital note)

  • Yourself — Rating: 3 — Strength: morning ritual — Next step: add a 60-second body scan.
  • Familiar others — Rating: 2 — Strength: close colleague — Next step: reach out to two friends this month.
  • World — Rating: 3 — Strength: monthly volunteering — Next step: schedule weekly nature walks.

Practical routines to anchor the work

  • Daily micro-routine (5–10 minutes): Morning Connection Check + brief body scan. Midday pause: name feeling and three breaths. Evening: short meaning Inventory entry.
  • Weekly routine (20–30 minutes): Update one-page Connection Snapshot, plan one relational outreach, and take a reflective walk.
  • Monthly routine: Review progress across three domains, adjust network map, commit to one new public act of connection.

Why this matters Connection at multiple levels stabilizes you when life is unpredictable.

You can count on life being unpredictable.

In Italy, our laughter after theft came from inner connection (Awareness), our close relationship (Belonging), and a larger orientation to life’s story (Insight). Emotional intelligence gave us regulation; spiritual intelligence gave us purpose and perspective. Together, they help you respond with presence, resilience, and aligned connections.

Final invitation Try a one-week experiment: complete the quick self-check for the three domains on day one, use the micro-routines daily, and revisit your one-page snapshot at week’s end. Notice shifts in emotion, decisions, and relationships. SEQ is built in small, repeated acts: one breath, one question, one connection step at a time.

Go to www.spiritofe.com/blog for more posts.

Unexpected Pause: Pain, Rest, Recover, Return Now

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Good morning. I’m sorry I’ve been quiet for the past two months — I meant to be here, typing away, sharing thoughts and stories the way I usually do. But life had other plans. I went in for a routine medical test and, in one of those cruel ironies, my pancreas got mad.

If you’re like me, you probably didn’t know an organ could “get mad.” I sure didn’t. The word itself sounds almost childish, but the reality is anything but. When a pancreas flares into pancreatitis, the pain is immediate and absolute. I’ve experienced aches and illnesses before, but this was different — an intensity that made you question the limits of what your body can endure. Even in the hospital, when morphine and oxycodone were available, the medication only took the edge off. It felt like the center of me had become a furnace.

Because of that flare, everything stopped. Not metaphorically: everything. For seven weeks, the schedule I had carefully built — the morning coffee and email routine, the midday writing sessions, the calls with spiritual direction clients and my partners at the Spirit of EQ — simply ceased to exist. Work, social life, health routines, the daily rituals I thought were indispensable: all put on hold while survival became the singular task.

I want to be candid about what that felt like. For someone who makes a living by showing up consistently — as a writer, content creator, and consultant — the idea of stopping is terrifying. My identity is wrapped up in output. My inbox is where I measure my value, my calendar is where I feel important, and my projects are how I track progress. When pain crushed me into stillness, it pulled those metrics out from under me. At first, I panicked: deadlines loomed, Spiritual direction clients waited, opportunities risked slipping away. But panic didn’t help. It only exaggerated the discomfort.

Slowly, the more honest and human response came into focus: survival, rest, and acceptance. The body’s demand was nonnegotiable. I had to let go of the notion that productivity is the only valid form of presence. I had to unlearn the belief that my worth is tied to output. That was a humbling lesson for me being an “8”

There were practical repercussions I hadn’t fully anticipated. Projects stalled. Communications delayed. I felt the guilty twinge of disappointing people who relied on me. But what surprised me most was how people responded. Clients and colleagues sent messages that were less about deadlines and more about “Are you okay?” Strangers who follow my work left notes of concern. It reminded me that work is woven into a network of relationships, and in times of crisis those relationships are what truly hold us together.

Being forced to stop also uncovered something liberating which was perspective. With the daily noise quieted, I had room to reckon with what really matters. It’s cliché to say an illness is a “wake-up call,” but that’s the word I keep coming back to. How often do we live at a pace that demands constant forward motion, assuming there will always be more time to be present, to rest, to heal? The pancreas’s outburst demanded attention and recalibration. It singled out an uncomfortable truth — I had been ignoring signals my body sent for a long time.

I’m not sharing this for sympathy. I’m sharing it because so many of us carry on until something forces us to pause. Whether it’s illness, burnout, family emergencies, or an industry shift — the unexpected is always waiting around the corner. My pancreatitis taught me some concrete lessons I want to pass on, especially to anyone who juggles work that depends on consistent presence.

First: listen to your body early. It’s easy to dismiss minor aches or persistent fatigue as “just stress” or “too much coffee.” Early attention to those signs could prevent escalation. Second: build buffers into your work. Have a plan for delegation, automate where you can, and communicate clear expectations with clients and collaborators. When you’re forced to stop, having these buffers reduces the burden of the pause. Third: accept that rest is not failure. It’s strategy. Recovery is work too — it requires dedication, patience, and sometimes painful humility. Fourth: allow support in. Pride can isolate you, but asking for help is not weakness. It’s how communities are built.

On a day-to-day level, my recovery has been a process. There were hard days when even reading a sentence felt like too much. There were small victories: a clear afternoon without stabbing pain, the first walk to the corner store, the first paragraph that didn’t terrify me. The support of medical professionals, family, and friends has been indispensable. So has the quiet practice of noticing incremental improvement. If you’re going through something similar, I recommend keeping a recovery log. Record the little wins. They add up to the larger arc of healing.

Coming back to work has been tentative. I didn’t come back with a grand announcement; I started by answering a few emails, then writing short posts, then rebuilding the bigger pieces of work. There’s a new rhythm now — one that includes built-in breaks, earlier bedtimes, and a willingness to pause when something feels off. My calendar has a new hygiene: time blocked not for tasks but for rest. It strikes me as profoundly sensible and weirdly subversive in a culture that valorizes busyness.

This experience has also shifted my relationship to my audience and clients. I write because I love the exchange: ideas moving between minds, a moment of resonance. But I now recognize that sharing should be sustainable, not sacrificial. I can still aim for consistency, but not at the expense of health. Vulnerability has its place. I plan to be more transparent when life forces me to step back. Part of the job is not only producing work but communicating honestly about the human realities behind it.

Finally, there’s the question we all face after an interruption: What’s next? For me, it’s a reorientation rather than a restart. I don’t intend to abandon the work I love. I will continue writing, consulting.  But I will do it with new boundaries, with more attention to signals from my body, and with humility about what I can control. The unexpected will come again — that’s a certainty — but now I feel better equipped to respond.

If anything, I hope this short hiatus and the story behind it reminds you to consider your own buffers and boundaries. Pain and illness are indiscriminate teachers; they do their hardest work when we least expect them. My pancreas got mad and taught me how to listen. Maybe yours will teach you something different. Either way, the takeaway is the same: choose recovery as a form of resistance to a culture that celebrates constant doing. Choose health as a professional strategy, not an afterthought.

Thank you for sticking around. I’m back, grateful, and slowly finding my footing again. If you’ve had similar interruptions, I’d love to hear how you navigated them — the practical steps, the emotional adjustments, and the small rituals that helped you find your way back.