Diffused Identity of the Enneagram 9
Diffused identity. People who know me are aware of my slight obsession with personality testing, specifically the Myers-Briggs type indicator. Today I discovered another aspect of personality testing called enneagrams. There are 9 enneagrams, easily summed up at the reformer one, helper two, motivator three, romantic four, thinker five, skeptic six, enthusiastic seven, leader eight, and mine, the harmonious nine. Testing as a nine makes sense, I mean I wear a bracelet that says harmony on my wrist everyday, what other evidence do you need? What interested me about the description of the nine was the comment about nine’s having a rather diffused identity. I never thought about it, but i completely agree. This is why i’m so obsessed with personality testing, because it helps me label my identity. I tend to reflect peoples actions back onto them. I adopt others characteristics over time, unknowingly, in order to keep the peace. I have no idea who I actually am. Which parts of my personality are mine? Which parts have I adopted? This is a question i’ll be pondering for awhile. I’ll write more about it later.
(Source: towritepoems, via conflictingheart)
Typewriter Series #408 by Tyler Knott Gregson
Text for Tired Eyes:
I think she has roots in the soles of her feet
and when she walks
she plants herself into the earth
and lets the earth take hold of her.
I think if you listened close enough
for long enough
you could just make out the sound
of those roots in those soles
lifting through the soil
sighing in the sunlight
and digging their way back into the darkness
with each and every step.
I’ve met people who are fire,
all flame and spark and the promise
of combustion.
Without fail and without doubt
I’ve been burned and boiled
and left with nothing but the residue
of the ash they left behind on my skin.
I’ve felt the breezes of people who are wind,
airy and light and always drifting.
They cool the soul and for a moment
you close your eyes and feel their
breath across your face but always,
always, open them sometime or another
to their absence. They always,
always, blow away and you’re left
with tousled hair and the numbness where
they rested.
I think I am the water and I think I always
have been. I go my own way and somehow
without knowing how, find my way through the
cracks and crevices, the grooves and holes
in the rocks that form around these
fragile hearts.
I think she is the earth and has roots
in her soles and leaves in her hair.
She curls her toes into the sand and
braces herself against the wind,
defiant against the flames
and holds tight to the world as it
spins beneath her. We spin and only
she can feel it.
I think she has roots and her roots
need water and I am the water and always
have been and know and hold the secrets
to sinking beneath the soil
to give strength to the growth
that’s been waiting to come.
Some people are fire
and some are wind
but we are water and earth
and through the roots on her
feet and the leaves in her hair
she will drink me and absorb
all I have ever been.
I can hear the sound
of her footsteps
now.
(via the-son-of-man)
Drabble of Progress
At times progress is slow. Excruciatingly slow. We see the coveted light at the end of the tunnel, but our feet can only move so fast to get there. To taste victory when it’s so far off is a cruel, cruel joke life likes to play. Slow progress isn’t anything to be glum about though. Progress, going forward, is always good. I have to remind myself this a lot, because sometimes I get so wrapped up in reaching that glorious light that I forget the present. Forgetting the present only results in sadness. This post is progress.
(Source: Spotify)
Recommended by Reverend Barger.
Toronto Public Library - where you can check out people from diverse backgrounds. Real people. Real conversations. Borrow a Human Book for a one-on-one conversation. Ask questions, broaden your mind, and find some common ground.
