How important is spirituality in your life?

The Moment I Understood My Grandmother’s Wisdom

It was 2:47 AM in my Geneva apartment. I was staring at my laptop screen. I struggled to interpret health statistics that were unable to provide a comprehensive picture. The WHO regional data from our African offices looked technically sound, but something fundamental was missing from our intervention strategy.

That’s when I heard my grandmother’s voice in my headIt was not literal. Yet, it was as clear as if she were sitting beside me in her favorite chair overlooking Beau Vallon Bay. “Son,” she used to say in her Seychellois Creole, “you cannot heal people with only half of yourself.”

Growing up in Seychelles, I’d dismissed this as old-fashioned island thinking. But at 2:47 AM in Geneva, exhausted after months shuttling between headquarters and field offices, I finally understood. I’d been approaching public health challenges with just my analytical mind—the physical, data-driven part of myself. I’d ignored the spiritual dimension that my grandmother had always insisted was equally real.

I closed the laptop. I sat in the meditation posture that my karate Sensei had taught me years ago. I engaged in twenty minutes of mindful breathing. When I reopened the files, the solution was obvious. We weren’t just treating diseases. We were working with whole human beings. Their spiritual well-being was inseparable from their physical health.

The Professional Case for Spiritual Awareness in International Development

Beyond the Statistics

In my years with the UN system across Africa and Geneva, I’ve learned many lessons. The most persistent development challenges aren’t usually technical. They are fundamentally human. Humans operate on two levels simultaneously. These levels are the measurable and the immeasurable, as well as the physical and the spiritual. I have come to understand this through professional experience, readings, and mindfulness practice.

Take Dr. Mamadou, a public health professional I worked with in Brazzaville during my time at WHO AFRO. His support for vaccination coverage rates in the countries he supported was impressive, but in many communities, trust was eroding. Traditional development metrics showed success, but something more profound was failing.

During one of our evenings at a restaurant overlooking the Congo River, he shared his frustration. “We treat people like statistics, not souls. We even include ourselves in this work.”

The spiritual dimension wasn’t about religion—though faith communities were crucial partners. It was about dignity, connection, and recognizing that sustainable health outcomes require more than technical interventions. I observed a significant change. I started acknowledging this dual nature. I treated communities as holders of wisdom, not just recipients of aid. As a result, our program effectiveness increased measurably. Trust indicators improved by 40% within eight months.

The Invisible Infrastructure of Development Work

Spirituality is the invisible infrastructure of international development. We can’t see the communication networks that connect our field offices. However, nothing functions without them. Similarly, the spiritual dimension operates beneath our conscious awareness. It fundamentally shapes our effectiveness.

This became clear during a particularly challenging maternal health program I coordinated between Johannesburg and Antananarivo. The two countries had similar development indicators. However, interventions were succeeding dramatically in one location. They were struggling in the other.

The breakthrough came when I started asking different questions during my yoga practice—not “What are the coverage gaps?” but “What are the cultural values around childbirth?” Not “How do we scale interventions?” but “How do we honor what each community holds sacred about new life?”

My Kyokushin training had taught me that true strength comes from understanding both internal and external forces. Once we acknowledged that communities have collective spirits, our programs became more effective. These shared purposes emerge from cultural values and historical experiences. We weren’t just delivering services; we were participating in each community’s vision of health and well-being.

The Seychellois Perspective on Duality

Living Between Worlds

Growing up on small islands teaches you about duality by necessity. You’re constantly aware of the vast Indian Ocean that both sustains and challenges you. The physical reality of granite peaks, pristine beaches, and cinnamon forests coexists with the spiritual reality. This includes the tides, cyclones, and the profound interconnectedness of island ecosystems.

A good friend of mine, a marine conservation officer turned fisheries advisor, used to say, “The ocean has rhythms deeper than the surface waves.” He often shared this wisdom. He meant that if you only read the instruments, you’ll miss the wisdom. He was talking about sustainable fishing, but he was talking about the dual nature of all complex systems.

This perspective shaped how I approach development challenges. Western aid models frequently view countries as issues that require technical assistance to resolve. But island life taught me that societies are living systems, responsive and fundamentally interconnected. You can’t understand a coral reef by studying individual species, just as you can’t understand a health system by focusing solely on disease statistics.
The Practice of Presence
In Seychellois culture, and from what I was taught growing up, spirituality isn’t separate from daily life—it’s woven into everything. As in the Malagasy culture, respect for ancestors influences development planning. The rhythm of monsoons shapes program timelines.
I’ve carried this integration into my UN work. Before important stakeholder meetings, I take five minutes for mindful centring—drawing from my yoga and karate practice to remember that I’m about to encounter whole human beings, not just development partners. This simple practice has improved my effectiveness more than any graduate coursework.

During negotiations in Victoria over resource allocation, this approach transformed the dynamic. Instead of treating provincial health directors as obstacles, I saw them as dedicated professionals. They carried their pressures and aspirations. The spiritual recognition of our shared commitment to public health opened new avenues. These avenues led to creative solutions. They were solutions that pure policy analysis had missed.

The Practical Spirituality of UN Work

Beyond Work-Life Balance

The concept of work-life balance assumes these are separate domains competing for our attention. But my experience suggests a different approach. Work-life integration means the spiritual dimension infuses everything we do in service of human development.

This process isn’t about conducting yoga sessions during WHO technical meetings or scheduling meditation breaks between donor consultations. Engaging in meaningful development work engages our entire self. It involves our creativity, our relationships, our sense of purpose, and our connection to humanity’s shared future.

When I transitioned from the regional office in Brazzaville to field coordination roles across multiple countries, colleagues warned me. They cautioned about the emotional toll of constant exposure to human suffering. The spiritual practices I’d cultivated gave me resilience and clarity. Mindfulness from yoga helped. Discipline from Kyokushin contributed. My island upbringing provided a connection. These practices made the practical challenges more manageable.

My karate training taught me that true power does not come from force. It comes from balanced awareness of all dimensions of a situation. Applied to development work, this means acknowledging the urgent physical needs we’re addressing. It also involves recognizing the deeper spiritual realities that shape how communities receive and sustain interventions.

The Ripple Effect Across Cultures

Perhaps most importantly, acknowledging our dual nature creates ripple effects that extend far beyond immediate program outcomes. When we show up as whole people in our international work, we give others permission to do the same.
I’ve seen this in health programs where leadership embraces this perspective. Community engagement improves. Local ownership increases. Program sustainability strengthens. These aren’t just qualitative observations—they translate directly to measurable results.

I helped design a maternal health initiative across three provinces in Madagascar. This initiative saw a 45% increase in skilled birth attendance. This was achieved after implementing what we called “culturally rooted care” approaches. The program focused not only on clinical protocols. It also helped health workers recognize and honour both the medical and spiritual dimensions of childbirth experiences.

Finding Integration in Global Service

The question isn’t whether you believe in spirituality. It’s whether you’re willing to acknowledge that sustainable development requires engaging with people as whole beings. They operate on multiple levels simultaneously. Some colleagues find this dimension through traditional religious practice. Others discover this dimension through practices such as meditation, martial arts, connecting with nature, or participating in community service.

For me, it’s often as simple as remembering that behind every health statistic, there are real people. These individuals have real hopes and fears. Every program report refers to these individuals too. Every policy recommendation connects to their lives. The spiritual dimension is about connection and meaning. It involves recognizing that we’re all part of humanity’s shared journey. This journey leads toward dignity and well-being.

Some months ago, I stood on a beach on La Digue Island. I watched the sunrise paint the Indian Ocean in impossible colours. I thought about how different my UN career might have been. This could have happened if I’d learned earlier to honor both dimensions of human experience. The physical world of targets and deliverables. I also considered the spiritual realm of purpose and connection.

We don’t have to choose between evidence-based practice and heart-centered service. We can embrace both, bringing our whole selves to the development challenges that matter most. In doing so, we don’t just become more effective international professionals—we become more fully human contributors to our shared future.