The Power Of The Pause

For many of us, really pausing feels almost impossible because it runs against deeply ingrained strategies for how we move through the world. The Enneagram helps us see why taking a vacation - or even just a solid break - can feel so counterintuitive. For example:

* The Assertive Types (3, 7, 8) push forward. Motion equals power, identity, and security. Stopping can feel like stagnation or even giving up.

* The Compliant Types (1, 2, 6) orient around obligation, service, and loyalty. Taking a break can feel like letting someone down or avoiding responsibility.

* The Competency Types (1, 3, 5) lean on doing things “right,” efficiency and mastery. Pausing interrupts momentum and can feel like laziness or ineptitude.

Each of these strategies resists the pause because stopping threatens something essential: control, approval, or security.

And yet the pause is essential. Without it, there is no digestion of experience, no emotional self-regulation, no integration. We keep running, but we lose the connection to ourselves.

Every type has its own resistance: for some as described above, it’s pausing the addiction to action that is challenging. For others, it’s pausing the obsessive thinking or the repetitive pulling into intense feelings that is most difficult. Which is exactly why pausing is such powerful medicine for everyone.

A pause - whether a deep breath before moving to the next task, a weekend of rest, or a real vacation - is not wasted time. It fertilizes the ground where clarity, creativity, and connection can grow.

I’ll be practicing the pause myself as I take a vacation. What about you? What gets in the way of pausing, and what might become possible if you gave yourself permission to take a break for a little while?

From “It’s Not Possible” To Expanding Possibility.

“It’s not possible.”
“That’s just how it is.”
“There’s nothing we can do.”

These affirmations stifle creativity. They shut the door before options can even be explored.

I’ll admit, this has been a learning edge for me. My default was often to see limitations, even to limit myself,  by believing “that’s just how it is.” But again and again, I’ve been surprised by creative colleagues who found out-of-the-box solutions I couldn’t see at first.

I still remember co-creating a 4-page questionnaire and then being asked to fit it on one page. My immediate response? “It’s not possible.”

A week later, every question was there - reformatted, tightened, double-sided - on a single sheet of paper. All thanks to the creative genius of two teammates. So much for “not possible.”

Sometimes things really are stuck. But what if, instead of closing the door too soon, we stayed open a little bit longer - not only to what might be possible, but to allow colleagues who think differently to offer their unique contributions?

Now imagine instead:

• “Let’s explore what’s possible.”

• “Let’s imagine another way to look at it.”

• “Let’s see what options we might find.”

This simple shift opens the door.
It invites creativity instead of shutting it down.
It signals openness instead of finality.
And it says: we don’t have to have the answer yet,  but we’re willing to look together.

The words we choose matter. They can cut off possibilities, or they can create space for new solutions to emerge. And often, the best answers come from that space.

So, what’s your go-to? Limiting and focusing, or opening and broadening? What are the pros and cons of your way of thinking?

From “My People” To “Our Team”

It’s something you might hear in a meeting:
* “My people will take care of that.”
* “I’ll check with my people.”

Even when it’s not intended, “my people” reflects a sense of ownership, reducing colleagues to resources that belong to the speaker.

Now imagine instead:
* “Our team will take care of that.”
* “I’ll check with our team.”

The difference is subtle, but powerful.
“Our team” emphasizes partnership and belonging.
It signals respect for the people who contribute.
And it shows the leader’s own acceptance of responsibility, because “our” means I’m part of this too.

On Labor Day, we’re reminded that work is never just about tasks, output and stock value. It’s about people - their dignity, their effort, and the relationships that make meaningful work possible.

And as corporate America faces enormous transitions, with AI reshaping jobs and organizations, employees need to feel valued as human beings more than ever. Language is one of the simplest, most powerful ways leaders can provide that sense of value - if they mean it.

The words we choose can reinforce hierarchy, or they can build respect, connection, and shared ownership.

Today - and every day - leaders can choose words that honor the people who make the work, and the success, possible.

From “You Always / You Never” To What’s True Now

Few things spark or fuel an argument faster than “You always…” or “You never…”

Even if the pattern feels real, those absolutes usually trigger reactivity instead of resolution.

The foundational skill is catching ourselves before our own reactivity takes over. Taking a breath, slowing down, and choosing words that reflect the moment rather than the story in our heads.

Here’s the shift that can make all the difference:

Instead of the blanket statement, pause and name what’s actually true right now.

* “I felt let down when this happened yesterday.”
* “This is the third time this week you’ve…”
* “I notice I’m getting frustrated right now, and I want to talk about it.”

Specific, grounded language keeps the conversation in the present.
It opens the door to clarity instead of closing it with blame.

What’s your go-to way of bringing a conversation back to what’s true in the moment?

From “That’s Not What I Meant” To Owning Clarity

We’ve all been there.
Someone misunderstands us, and the words fly out: “That’s not what I meant!”

It feels defensive, like the blame belongs to the listener for not sifting through our words to find the meaning underneath.

But what if, instead of defending, we owned our responsibility for clarity?

Owning our message means slowing down, noticing where clarity slipped, and saying: “Let me try again.”

What follows is ideally more direct, more concise, uses “I” statements, and if feedback is involved, clearly describes the impact and a kind request for change.

That small shift - from defensiveness to ownership - transforms communication.
It prevents spirals of miscommunication, helps others actually hear you, and actually builds trust.

What’s your go-to strategy when clarity breaks down?

From “Why?” To A Better Way In

Back in the day, whenever someone asked me “Why did you do that?”, I’d shift into justification mode.
Unconsciously, it felt like I was being put on the stand.
Even if I trusted the person.
Even if their tone was calm.
Even if I had a good reason for my choice.

Over time, I noticed this wasn’t just me.
It was happening all around me, especially in the STEM spaces where I was working.
Bright, capable people getting defensive or shutting down.
All triggered by one small, seemingly harmless word: “Why?”

When I became a volunteer peer counselor, I learned how to listen actively to my clients.
And I realized something important:
“Why?” often triggers defensiveness because it sounds critical.
We assume we’re being questioned because someone disagrees.

So I tried a different approach, one that made my intent to understand more clear:
“What led you to that choice?”

It changed everything.
* It kept curiosity intact.
* It invited clarification instead of justification.
* It made room for context, not defense.

In high-accountability environments, this kind of shift matters.
It’s not just words - words shape trust and outcomes.
The right wording builds safety.
It gets you more accurate answers.
And it fosters real dialogue and stronger relationships.

Try it this week.
Before asking “Why?”, pause.
Ask yourself what you’re really trying to learn.
Then try: “What led you to that choice?”

You’ll likely get more openness, and less tension.

What’s your go-to way of asking hard questions?

Courage In Leadership Isn’t What We Assume It Is

We often associate courage with decisiveness, boldness, or charging ahead in the face of fear.

But in the context of self-awareness and growth, especially as leaders, courage is something less assertive, but also more demanding.

Courage is not the absence of fear.
It’s the presencing of fear.
It’s the willingness to stay with discomfort long enough to sense a deeper truth underneath it.
And from that presence, to choose our next step, sometimes to pause or even retreat, and sometimes to act despite the feeling of fear.

The path of self-awareness and real growth is made of many moments that require this kind of courage.

Because It isn’t easy to face the parts of ourselves that avoid, protect or fail.
It takes courage to sit with those truths without giving in to numbing, denying or rationalizing.

And yet this is exactly where resilience is born.
Not from a version of courage that urges us to push ourselves harder or “do better.”
But from a deeper version of courage that is anchored in presence.
From a quieter trust that what’s hard to face is also part of our wholeness.

This kind of courage isn’t loud, but it is real and you can rely on it.

The Invisible Labor No One Talks About At Work

Years ago, I was clueless about how much labor others were doing around me, not just to communicate efficiently, but to cope with my poor communication skills.
I made assumptions. I overshared personal problems at work. I didn’t leave space. I missed subtle - and not-so-subtle - cues.

And some people, especially the more emotionally intelligent or accommodating ones, picked up the slack.
They softened their tone. Adjusted their pace. Worked hard to keep things smooth with me.

That’s invisible labor in communication:
The behind-the-scenes effort some people carry to manage relational tension, attune to others, or protect the connection.
We talk more about it in personal relationships, but it exists at work, too.

It often goes unseen, unthanked, and unshared.

You’ll see it in the colleague who bridges misunderstandings so the team doesn’t fracture.
The employee who lightens the mood when a leader gets sharp.
The team member who cushions another’s words when they interrupt or steamroll, because they care more about preserving the relationship than correcting them.

Over time, this labor adds up.
It can lead to resentment, burnout, or quiet withdrawal.

And it’s not just “emotional people” who carry it.
Often, it’s the most relationally intelligent ones - the people who notice everything - who quietly hold things together.

If you’ve benefited from this labor (like I have), one of the most respectful things you can do is notice it. Maybe even thank the person.

Then:
Slow down.
Make space.
Check in.
Take more responsibility for the relationships, not just the outcomes.

Because communication isn’t a solo performance.
It’s a co-created experience, even at work.

What invisible labor is happening around you, and how can you help carry the load?

Why Being Bicultural Made Me A Better Communicator

Today is Belgium’s National Day.
As a Belgian-born, naturalized American, it has me reflecting on what it means to live - and lead - between two cultures.

I’ve rarely spoken about being an immigrant, perhaps because I’ve been so aware of the privilege I’ve had on my path to U.S. citizenship.

In my early days in the U.S., working in scientific research, it felt easy to blend in. My background was just one of many in a global academic setting. Before immigrating to the U.S., I lived in Germany for two years, also in a multicultural, international environment. In a way, being a foreigner in those spaces was normal, even desired.

But when I transitioned into coaching and training, my accent suddenly stood out more. So did the fact that I didn’t grow up in the U.S.

At first, I was shy about it. I worried it might make me seem less credible, or somehow “other,” not as good as an American-born coach.

But over time, I noticed something surprising:
Some clients were choosing to work with me because of it.
Others saw it as an added bonus.

Because I brought a different lens.
Because I listened a little differently.
Asked different questions.
Didn’t take cultural norms for granted.

What I had once seen as a weakness became a quiet strength.

Being bilingual and bicultural rewires your brain in subtle ways. It’s kind of an intensive training in the Social Instinct. You become more attuned to context. You pay more attention to nuance. You learn to code-switch when appropriate, linguistically, emotionally, relationally.

You don’t have to be bicultural to develop these skills. In fact, they’re essential for any leader navigating a diverse team, a global organization, or even just different communication styles.

With practice, anyone can expand their range:

* Slow down enough to notice what others might be assuming.
* Get curious about how things land—not just what was said.
* Use language not just to convey facts, but to connect.

That’s not just communication. That’s leadership.

These are exactly the muscles I now help leaders and STEM professionals build in their communication.

It turns out that living between two worlds helped me see what often goes unnoticed in one.

Question for you:
Have you ever realized that something you once thought of as a weakness is actually part of your unique value?
I’d love to know.

Three Questions To Transform Your Check-Ins With Team Members

I recently heard about a great leader who guided a feedback conversation with a team member using just three questions:

• How are you feeling about your autonomy?

• How are you feeling about your mastery?

• How are you feeling about your purpose?

That’s it.
Well, that, and a lot of listening. The conversation lasted over an hour.

No formal assessment. No corporate inauthenticity.
Just a genuine check-in on what matters most to people at work.

These three words - autonomy, mastery, and purpose - come from Daniel Pink’s book Drive: The Surprising Truth About What Motivates Us.
In it, he identifies them as the core drivers of intrinsic motivation; what fuels people to do their best work from the inside out.

When a leader asks about these three words, three powerful things happen:

1. It guides the conversation. No need to guess where to begin. These questions go straight to the heart of what’s working — and what’s not.

2. It inspires the employee. It signals that their inner experience matters, not just their output. That they’re seen as a whole person.

3. It gives the leader insight. If the leader wants to grow, this feedback is gold. It shows where their leadership can evolve to better support their people, and to keep top talent engaged and committed.

It’s simple.
It’s profound.
And it only works if it’s sincere; if the questions come with real curiosity, care, and the willingness to act on what’s shared.

Questions for you:

• Have you ever had a leader ask you these kinds of questions?

• What would your answers be today, about your own autonomy, mastery, and purpose at work?

You Will Mess Up. What Matters Is What You Do Next.

Mistakes in communication are inevitable.
We cut someone off. We give unsolicited advice. We miss a cue. We speak too quickly, or too much, or not at all.

What defines us isn’t whether we mess up (we will).
It’s how we repair.

Repair means circling back after a misstep to acknowledge impact, re-establish trust, and reconnect.
It’s not about rehashing everything or taking all the blame.
It’s about owning your part and showing that the relationship matters more than being right.

Depending on the context, repair can sound like:

• “How did you experience this conversation? I’d like to hear about how you felt.”

• “I realized I spoke over you in that meeting; thanks for being gracious about it. Please jump back in if you’d like to add anything.”

• “I’ve been thinking about our conversation. I want to clarify something I said that might’ve landed wrong.”

• “I lost my temper, and I’m sorry. You didn’t deserve that.”

Repair can be as simple as a one-line acknowledgment or as deep as a heartfelt apology.
What matters isn’t perfection, it’s the willingness to return, take responsibility, and prioritize connection over pride.

Even highly skilled leaders miss the mark sometimes. But the ones we trust most are the ones who pause and take the time to check in.
The ones who don’t avoid awkwardness.
Who understand that courage in communication means facing, not fleeing, relational frictions.

And yet, it’s tempting to skip that step:

• To downplay the moment because the relationship “isn’t that close.”

• To move on quickly to “more important matters”.

• And of course, to shift blame : )

But skipping repair is what quietly erodes credibility and trust.
Repair isn't a luxury. It's a necessity - for leadership, for teamwork, and for any meaningful relationship.

Today is my husband’s and my 12th wedding anniversary. We’ve messed up plenty, by being reactive, misattuned, or not communicating as well as we wanted. But every single misstep has been repaired, which in turn has deepened our bond and love for one another.

A solid relationship isn’t built on getting it right. It’s built on what we choose to do next.

Questions for you:

* Have you ever trusted a leader more because they owned a misstep?
* How do you want to be remembered after a tough conversation?
* What’s one way you model repair in your leadership or team culture?

Balancing The Three Centers Of Intelligence In Leadership: A Mini-Check-In

We don’t just lead with our minds.
We lead with our whole system - body, heart, and head.

In the Enneagram system and other somatic frameworks, we talk about the Three Centers of Intelligence:
* Mental (head): seeks clarity, certainty and safety.
* Emotional (heart): seeks identity, value and connection.
* Instinctive (body): seeks grounding, boundaries and autonomy

Each center offers an essential flavor of wisdom. And when its core needs feel unmet, it sparks specific emotional responses:
* Fear when safety is missing,
* Sadness when connection is lacking,
* Anger when autonomy is threatened.

These emotions aren’t just reactions, they’re signals. They help us access the motivation we need to address what matters most.

At the same time, we each have a unique relationship with these centers. Most of us overuse one, underuse another, and have a third that’s relatively balanced. Under stress or pressure, we tend to double down on our dominant center, which leads to reactive habits and greater imbalance in the system.

Here’s how this plays out for me: I over-use the Emotional center. I easily sense my emotional state and that of others but I can get trapped in emotions, at times unable to compartmentalize them. My Mental center is pretty balanced, I enjoy analyzing and making sense of things and this ability becomes even sharper in times of stress and crisis. But for a long time, my Instinctive center was a total blind spot. I would ignore not only fatigue and tension, but also my gut feelings.

Ask yourself:
* Which center do I tend to neglect?
* What small practice could help bring it more online?

For me, learning to regularly check in with my body - to really listen to it - helped me reconnect all three centers. It didn’t silence the others, it integrated them.

That’s why regular, intentional check-ins matter. Try this brief daily reflection:

* What thoughts keep playing in my mind?
* What emotions are under the surface?
* What is my body telling me?

Perfect balance is not the goal or even possible but a bit more integration leads to a wiser leadership - more grounded and attuned.

Why Self-Awareness Alone Isn’t Enough.

It’s a powerful moment when someone realizes:
“Oh. I do this. I shut down in conflict.”
“I go into fix-it mode the second there’s tension.”
“I perform confidence even when I feel totally disconnected.”

Awareness is essential. It’s the beginning of change.
But self-awareness alone doesn’t create transformation.
It doesn’t rewrite patterns.
It doesn’t build the capacity to respond differently when it matters most.

For that, we need practice.

Think of it like strength training at the gym.

Your daily centering or grounding practice? That’s the gym.
That’s where you build the muscle of presence—reconnecting to your breath, your body, your aliveness.
You’re not in a conflict. No one’s pushing your buttons. But you’re training anyway—with the low-level triggers of boredom, a long to-do list, or everyday distractions.

Then come the middle-of-the-road moments:
A tense conversation at work.
A last-minute interference with your plans.
The email that hits your ego just a little too hard.

These are your lighter weights.
You notice the pattern start to fire.
And you experiment: pause, breathe, choose a different response.
It’s hard. But you can lift it—because you’ve been building capacity quietly, on your own.

And slowly, you build the strength to handle the heavier weight—
The feedback that would’ve wrecked your week.
The conflict that used to spin you out of control.
The relational crisis that once felt impossible to handle with presence.

Integration means moving from “I know my pattern” to “I can feel the impulse—and choose something new.”

That shift isn’t instant.
It’s not just about insight.
It’s about capacity.
And capacity is built through practice.

So if you’re noticing your old pattern again—great. That’s step one.
Now ask yourself: How am I training for the life I want to lead?

Just like a personal trainer helps you build physical strength, a development coach helps you build the muscles of presence, resilience, and relational leadership.

I’ve been “in the gym” for almost two decades—personally and professionally. If you're ready to train, I'm here for you.

Who Are You Becoming?

And why this question matters more than “What’s next?”

At moments of transition—career changes, leadership challenges, relationships shifting—it’s tempting to reach for certainty.

We ask ourselves:
* What’s next?
* What should I do?
* How do I fix this?

But underneath it all, there’s a more powerful question:

Who am I becoming?

It’s a quieter, slower question—one that doesn’t rush to fix, but invites us to pause and listen inward.
To notice what’s no longer important—and what’s calling for attention.

Because while our circumstances might demand new strategies, our deeper work often invites new ways of being:
* Letting go of the parts of us that perform success instead of living authentically
* Disentangling our identity from external validation
* Reclaiming inner authority after years of outsourcing it to outside guidance

I currently see this with several coaching clients. Clients come to coaching in a time of transition, aware that they could keep doing “business as usual” and go after the next goal—or choose instead to make fuller contact with their whole self: the one who leads with authenticity, speaks with presence, and acts from values rather than pressure.

There’s nothing more delicious for a coach than supporting someone as they answer that deeper call.

That shift doesn’t come from pushing harder.
It comes from slowing down enough to hear what’s true now.

If you’re in a season of uncertainty, you don’t need all the answers.
But you can stay with the inquiry.

In times of uncertainty, “What’s next?” gives us motion.
But “Who am I becoming?” gives us direction.

If you’re standing at a threshold, this is your invitation to pause.
Not to rush ahead.
But to listen.
To notice what’s emerging.
To begin again—on purpose.

“Who am I becoming?” isn’t a puzzle to solve.
It’s a path to walk—deliberately, gently, with curiosity.

When The Enneagram Wounds Instead Of Heals

And why we must use it with humility.

Years ago, early in my journey with the Enneagram, I was so enthusiastic that I couldn’t stop myself—I started “helping” some people type themselves, sometimes a bit too boldly. That kind of confidence often comes with inexperience—with both the system and the process—and I was no exception.

I meant well. I wanted those friends and colleagues to see what I saw: a map that could unlock self-awareness, compassion, and growth. But in my beginner’s mindset, I was stereotyping the types—and it wasn’t helpful, or even appropriate. And sometimes, I was wrong. Very wrong. Because I don’t live in someone else’s interior world, I can’t know what their type is.

One friend, in particular, felt misunderstood and hurt. I still regret how I approached it with her.

When the Enneagram is used carelessly—even with the best intentions—it can wound. It can confirm people’s worst fears: that they’re being labeled, analyzed without consent—or worse, judged. And once someone feels that sting, it’s hard to trust the Enneagram again—even when it has so much to offer.

I understand the skepticism. Years ago, I probably contributed to it.

Since then, I’ve witnessed self-proclaimed “experts” confidently type—or re-type—others under their leadership. I’ve heard things like, “It’s all about energy—I can just sense it,” or “They’re exactly like my partner, and my partner is that type.” Never mind that somatic energy is deeply shaped by our early caregivers, or that behaviors and outward traits don’t always correlate clearly to type. There’s also the overlay of ethnicity, religion, and culture—not to mention the powerful influence of one’s dominant instinct.

I’ve seen colleagues and friends hurt by this kind of forceful typing. It’s a distortion of what the Enneagram is meant to offer.

But I’ve also experienced what happens when this work is done with care. The Enneagram allows us to identify strengths we can build on, while also revealing patterns that harm our relationships. It invites deeper honesty and responsibility. It gives language to things we sense but don’t fully understand. It doesn’t put us in a box—it shows us the box we’re already in, and how to move beyond it.

Personally, it expanded my empathy. I began to understand that others see the world in eight other ways—not just my own. That realization completely transformed my relationships.

So if you’re an Enneagram coach, teacher, or practitioner, here’s my unsolicited advice:

Lead with humility. Assume you don’t know (because you don’t!). Stay curious. Invite people in, instead of telling them what they are.

The Enneagram can illuminate and liberate—but only when it’s offered with consent, care, and deep respect for the mystery of being human.

Let’s use it with the reverence it deserves.

Why We Overcompensate (And How to Stop)

We all have moments when we go above and beyond—but not in a healthy way.

Overcompensating often looks productive, helpful, even admirable. But underneath, it’s usually driven by fear of falling short of a deeper need.

I used to over-explain and over-justify—thinking it made me authentic and thorough. But really, I was trying to avoid my fear of being misunderstood, and therefore disconnected from others. I didn’t believe I could be understood by not saying all the details. And I certainly didn’t trust that I could be misunderstood and still be okay.

Overcompensation wears many disguises:

* Talking too much to fill silence
* Retreating into quiet to avoid exposure
* Doubling down on being “right” to stay safe
* Taking on more work to prove worth
* Over-nurturing to show up as loving
* Staying vague or abstract to avoid committing
* Pushing against others to feel strong or protected

These patterns start as strengths—but get distorted when we over-rely on them to feel safe, valued, or in control.

From an Enneagram lens, they can reflect an imbalance in our three centers:

* A mind-dominant person might over-explain instead of trusting.
* A heart-driven person might people-please and lose their own voice.
* A body-dominant person might take quick action before attuning.

The antidote isn’t fixing yourself—there’s nothing to fix. It’s about noticing the moment you disconnect from yourself.

Pause. Breathe. Ask:

* What am I trying to protect, get, or avoid?
* What do I really need instead?

Great relationships with others start with a deep connection to self.

Where do you notice yourself overcompensating?

How The Three Instincts Shape The Way You Communicate (Part 3)

In Part 1, we looked at how the Self-Preservation (SP) instinct filters communication through a lens of safety, sustainability, and practicality.

In Part 2, we explored how the Sexual (SX) instinct brings focus, passion, and a drive for intensity to conversations.

Now we turn to the Social (SO) instinct—the one attuned to relationships, shared understanding, and how we fit into the bigger picture.

People with a strong SO instinct are naturally aware of context and connection. They tend to scan for social cues and care deeply about how information lands with others. Communication, for them, is often about building bridges, inviting participation, and contributing to a shared purpose.

That can look like:

Strengths:
* Inclusive language that considers the audience
* Ability to read the room and adjust tone or content accordingly
* Motivation to inform, uplift, or rally a group toward a goal

Challenges:
* Over-prioritizing group norms or harmony at the expense of candor
* Adapting too much to others’ expectations and losing personal voice
* Talking at people instead of with them when trying to manage impressions

Ever noticed someone who keeps a conversation accessible and engaging across contexts—from 1:1 interactions to large group settings—tracking reactions, weaving in multiple perspectives, and making sure people feel included? That’s likely SO at play.

In communication, SO types tend to seek relevance and connection—often trying to gauge what matters most in the moment and how their message will land for everyone. They’re frequently the ones shaping tone, pacing, and flow in team settings.

Under stress, this instinct may scramble to stay attuned: over-interpreting others’ body language, overthinking how they’re perceived, and performing instead of connecting.

Do you recognize any of these SO patterns in yourself—or in someone you collaborate with?

And that wraps up this series!

To communicate more effectively, it helps to understand the instinctual lens you're coming from predominantly, and recognize when it’s helping or hindering connection.

A great developmental goal? Growing in the strengths of the other two instincts.

Which instinct tends to lead for you—and what might shift if you made space for another one to step forward?

How The Three Instincts Shape The Way You Communicate (Part 2)

In Part 1, we explored how the Self-Preservation instinct influences communication through a lens of safety, sustainability, and practicality.

Now we turn to the Sexual instinct—the one fueled by intensity, depth, and a drive to go beyond one’s comfort zone.

Also called the "one-to-one" instinct, SX isn’t just about attraction or sex. It’s about energy and magnetism: a pull toward chemistry, resonance, and deep impact. People with a strong SX instinct often seek aliveness in interactions—and bring urgency or passion to their communication.

That can look like:

Strengths:
* Magnetic presence and dynamic expression
* Willingness to challenge or disrupt for the sake of growth
* Capacity to focus deeply on one person or idea

Challenges:
* Tendency to dominate or overwhelm in conversation
* Frustration when others don’t “match their energy”
* Prioritizing intensity over steadiness or inclusion

Ever found yourself lit up in a conversation with someone who speaks with conviction and depth—who pulls you in like you’re the only person in the room? That kind of presence often signals a strong SX instinct.

In communication, SX types may lead with boldness and seek to provoke a response—not to create conflict, but to spark new ideas and transformation. They may also feel restless or disengaged when things feel too flat, routine, or impersonal.

Under stress, this instinct can overextend: becoming reactive when the spark fades, or generating unnecessary intensity just to feel alive or elicit a response.

Do you recognize any of these SX patterns in yourself—or in someone you know?

Next up: how the Social instinct shapes communication through attunement to others, reading the room, and a drive to contribute.

How The Three Instincts Shape The Way You Communicate (Part 1)

Most people think communication is about words. Or tone. Or body language.
It is.
But that’s only part of the story.

Underneath our communication patterns—what we say, how we say it, when we speak up or go quiet—are instinctual drives that shape our focus, priorities, and interpersonal presence.

The Enneagram teaches that we each have three Instincts that help us survive and thrive:

1. Self-Preservation (SP) – focused on safety, comfort, and well-being

2. Sexual (SX) – drawn to intensity, chemistry, and depth

3. Social (SO) – attuned to group dynamics, belonging, and shared purpose

We all have all three—but one usually leads the way. It becomes our unconscious “first filter,” shaping what we notice, avoid, and emphasize—including in communication with others.

Let’s start with the Self-Preservation instinct. 

People with strong SP instincts are often steady, practical, and resource-conscious. In communication, this can show up as:

Strengths:
* Clear, grounded messaging
* Reliable follow-through
* Attunement to logistical needs (“Is this sustainable?” “Is there a plan?”)

Challenges:
* Hesitating to speak if the environment feels unsafe or unstructured
* Prioritizing stability over connection or belonging
* Being so self-contained that others miss their needs or input

Ever been in a meeting where someone seemed quiet—but then dropped a practical insight that grounded the whole room? That’s often SP at work.

SP instinct doesn’t mean introversion. It means communication is filtered through a need for sustainability and safety. And when under stress, that instinct might clamp down: fewer words, more internal focus, less emotional availability.

Next up: how the Sexual instinct shapes communication through intensity, out-of-the-box thinking, and a drive for transformation.

Do you recognize any of these SP patterns in yourself—or in someone you work with?

How About Moving from Performing Leadership to Servant Leadership?

Picture this: a leader kicks off every meeting with inspiration and passion. They speak of purpose, values, and big goals. The team nods along—but over time, fewer hands go up during team meetings.

At first, the energy felt motivating. But after a few months, the leader’s “inspiration” begins to narrow the field. Dissent is reflected back as negativity. Concerns are equated with complaints. Soon, team members stop naming what’s not working. Not because they don’t care—but because they sense: this isn’t welcome here.

This is performing leadership—where inspiring communication becomes a way to perform, and vision becomes a way to control the narrative and the culture.

Servant leadership offers another way. Coined by Robert Greenleaf in the 1970s, it’s grounded in a simple premise: the leader’s role is to serve the growth and well-being of others. That requires presence—not just being seen, but deeply seeing others. It also requires the willingness to relinquish control—and to be teachable.

Some core principles of servant leadership include:

• Putting others first – focusing on the needs of the team, stakeholders, and community.
• Empowering growth – helping others develop and realize their full potential.
• Leading with humility – being authentic, transparent, and open to feedback.
• Fostering collaboration – creating space where everyone feels valued and heard.
• Modeling integrity – upholding strong ethics and being worthy of trust.
• Thinking long-term – acting with sustainability and lasting impact in mind.

These aren’t soft skills—they’re serious leadership capacities that foster trust, resilience, and effectiveness.

When presence replaces performance, and curiosity replaces control, people begin to trust that their voice matters. And the organization benefits from the collective intelligence that’s unleashed.

Next time you speak, pause and ask: Am I leading to control—or to serve?