I’ve found Fear to be my most valuable sense.

Yes, fear. Not joy. Not confidence. Fear.

Because fear tells the truth. It shows up when something matters deeply, when we’re on the edge of risk. When we’re about to say yes - or no - to something that could change everything.

Most people run from fear. But Emotional Intelligence teaches us to sit with it, feel its texture, understand what it’s trying to say... Over the years, I’ve learned to tune in. That tightening in the chest, the racing thoughts - fear has become a friend. Not a pleasant one, but an honest one.

I’ve also learned this: revenge isn’t a passion. It’s a disease.

We don’t always call it revenge. Sometimes we call it “giving them a taste of their own medicine” or “teaching them a lesson.”
But it eats away at us. Quietly. Cleverly.

In the workplace, in families, even within ourselves - we cling to small hurts and carry them like debts owed. Emotional Intelligence helps us see through the illusion of getting even. Because healing never comes from hurting back. It comes from clarity, boundaries, and choosing to rise instead of reacting.

Every cause has more than one effect.

I’ve seen this too often. A careless remark that kills confidence. A quiet word of belief that transforms someone. Everything we say. Everything we do. It lands somewhere. On someone.

That’s why we can’t afford to sleepwalk through our conversations, our decisions, our leadership. Emotional Intelligence is not a soft skill. It’s the realest skill. The one that reminds us that our words build or break. That our tone teaches people whether they matter. That nothing we do is neutral.

The truth is a weapon. And it must be wielded with care.

Truth isn’t always kind. But it doesn’t have to be cruel. When I work with people, I often remind them - truth isn’t meant to wound. It’s meant to reveal. So use it gently, like a light in a dark room. 

Because Emotional Intelligence doesn’t ask us to lie. It asks us to honour truth and humanity in the same breath.

It’s easy to speak bluntly and call it honesty. But to speak truthfully with kindness - that takes depth, maturity, and courage. And people remember that. They remember how you made them feel, even when the truth was hard to hear.

This is the heart of my work.

I don’t train people to become emotionally intelligent in a classroom. I help them recognise how EI is already happening - in every email they write, every silence they hold, every moment they choose not to interrupt, every time they say “I hear you” and mean it.

Because EI isn’t a workshop. It’s life. And if we’re not paying attention, we’re missing the only thing that truly sets us apart.

So here’s what I ask:

• What are you really feeling?
• Who’s carrying the weight of your silence or your sarcasm?
• When was the last time you wielded truth with care instead of convenience?

Let’s stop calling EI a soft skill. It is THE skill.
It’s the invisible thread running through everything that matters - trust, leadership, resilience, love, repair. And when practiced with honesty and courage, it’s the one thing that never fails to bring people back to themselves.