What your personality has taught me

The Enneagram and me

I’ve been studying your personality for a while now, and I’ve learned so much from you.

I brushed off the Enneagram as another personality test that perhaps I’d be forced to take in some work team bonding activity, and end up with some useless title like “The Mediator” again. (What am I supposed to do with that? Start…mediating?)

But I fell in love with the Enneagram’s history of sacred geometry and the ancient philosophy of the nine energies that have been explored by Sufi Mystics, the Desert Fathers, and Neo-Platonists of the 3rd century.

I appreciate the Enneagram as process tool, not as a way of typing or stereotyping people. It’s an art to help us understand our highest and healthiest potential, as well as the depths of our shadows.

I’ve been studying it for years, and I’d love to share what I’ve learned from each sacred beautiful type.

I won’t give a detailed description of each type (there are people who can do that so much better!), and I can’t begin to articulate all that is special and challenging about each; it’s simply my own experience learning subjectively from the nine archetypes that make up our perfect humanity.

I also paired them each with a musical show tune because…that’s a very Four thing to do. :) Hey, I am cringe, but I am free.

Type One

I would love to be 100% vegan. Not eating animal products aligns with every one of my beliefs about environmental, political, and physical welfare. Knowing as much as I do, plus deeply loving all animals, it should be a no-brainer.

And yet…eating is emotional. Eating is cultural. Eating is social. We eat for comfort, for fellowship, for adventure, and oftentimes to reconnect with our most innocent time in life (Goldfish crackers, anyone?). So many reasons beyond what makes clean orderly sense on a page. 

When logic is in competition with emotion, even if the logic has a sentimental foundation, our emotions will always win. And my emotions sometimes want a cheeseburger.

This is why we have morals, so we can rely on them instead of our ding-dong flip-floppy feelings. But morality is hard! It’s really hard to always practice what we believe. That’s why religions have to give out lists of rules, because the deities in charge know what kind of people they’re dealing with. We need to be reminded not to kill each other, because traffic exists.

The Enneagram One has a REALLY hard time with all this. I know a lovely lovely, honorable One who is the 100% vegan of my dreams. As her education increases, so do her restrictions. And she will often question why anyone who knows as much as she does would still continue to eat meat, and I get her. I also get them.

It’s a beautiful thing to be so steadfast in one’s morals. Most of the people I really admire are honorable in their moral alignment, which can sometimes come across as strict or even extreme.

But for a One, it’s not a question. If the One has a belief, the One will stick to it! 

I’m reading a book about German resistance widows picking up the pieces of their homeland in the aftermath of World War 2, and are just beginning to learn about all the atrocities of the Nazis the past several years. While listening to a radio program about what went on in concentration camps, the protagonist Marianne is outraged that her friend Benita would head to sleep:

“Where was Benita’s sense of moral responsibility? Where was her compassion? She seemed to have no feeling of commitment to—or belonging in—the wider world. It was so difficult not to judge! Some deep seed in Marianne’s being grew unstoppably toward fairness, pushing blindly through nuance and complication to extract a simple answer: wrong or right.”

This is One behavior if I ever heard it. On one hand, it’s almost radical to be so consistent in ‘doing the right thing’ rather than be lazy or complacent like the rest of us. On the other hand, it makes life really hard when you can’t see why someone might not act in full integrity…or act like you.

We all have One tendencies, in good and not-so-great ways. We all wonder why other people aren’t more like us. We all have our moments of upstanding behavior when no one is watching. We all have some strong belief (i.e. putting your shopping cart away at the grocery store) that we cannot STAND when others don’t comply. And we are all judgmental, and we all occasionally suffer from a lack of curiosity about ‘The Other.’

I’m proud of myself for remaining open to the existence and validity of other opinions even when at my very core I thought I could not possibly understand them. Diversity of thought is so important to a thriving society, even at the risk of getting a few wild ideas in the mix.

May our actions align more with our beliefs, and may we increase in our curiosity about the actions of others.

In ‘Stars,’ the antagonist Javert sings a prayer to and for justice. He admires how stars in the sky are consistent and orderly, just like him.

Type Two

I once read that most women (erroneously) test as Type Twos because the Two is characterized by their devotion, selflessness, and charity, and women are generally conditioned to aspire toward all these things.

When there’s a lot of pressure to be a certain way and take on specific personality traits, humans will often assume such ways and traits even if their inherent nature tugs toward the opposite.

But a true Two will probably recognize how ashamed they are of their own needs, and how much they prioritize the every single possible whim of everyone else. The Two may have a tricky time deciphering whether they really want to help, or whether they want the recognition and pride of having helped. I think we can all relate to that.

But when Twos help others without promise of accolades or rewards, they become the most glittering versions of themselves: capable, boundaried, and effective.

What I’ve learned from Type Two is the maturity that develops in silence and in secret.

I once read that if you set a lofty goal for yourself, you shouldn’t tell anyone about it. When you tell people that you’ve set a goal, you’ll receive all the validation you wanted from achieving that goal, so you won’t have much incentive to keep going. Simply stating the goal is satisfying enough.

But if you give to charity, run a marathon, or climb a mountain in secret, you will enjoy a type of satisfaction that nobody can possibly give or take from you. And this is something the Two knows intimately, especially as they mature.

When you encounter a healthy Two, you may have to pry at all the things they’re doing: volunteering at the soup kitchen, stacking books at the library, taking shelter dogs for walks, inviting their neighbors over for dinner. And you will leave that interaction thinking, “If only I did one of these things,” which is the gift a Two can consistently offer us: a sliver of their contribution to the world.

Audrey from Little Shop of Horrors may be an unhealthy Two, but her sweetness and this song make up for it. I love this version with MJ Rodriguez, who I fell in love with on Pose.

Type Three

I used to think I was ambitious. Then I met some Threes.

Threes are astoundingly competent careerists, status-seekers, achievers, and winners. Yeah, they really really want to win. They may not have chosen their career field for how much they love it, as much as how successful they would be at it.

Image-conscious, Type Threes are also charming and attractive. If you want to get a free drink, go to a bar with a Three. They get what they want! (Taylor Swift is a great example of a Three: Machiavellian, cunning, hardworking, and talented enough to become the best of the best.)

I’ve read that the United States is an Enneagram Three, obsessed with rising to the top no matter the cost, while the rest of the world sees us as shallow and selfish as we pursue dominance.

I’m very critical of the U.S., but as I’ve lived and traveled abroad, I appreciate the ambitious spirit that clouds the air of every bus, train, and neighborhood I’ve entered in America: Everybody’s got a dream. If “complacency” is the opposite of ambition, I would take cut-throat competition any day.

Ambition can be selfless too; it can be envisioning the world as more capable, more energetic, more imaginative, and more just than it is right now. Enneagram Threes will probably singlehandedly save us from our climate crisis as they invent some machine to clean the oceans and some way to travel swiftly without massive carbon emissions.

Whenever I talk to a Three, I have hope for our future because their brains so easily see a better world, where the rest of us can lazily thrive because of systems the hardworking Threes put into place.

I love this song’s exploration of the complexities and inner struggles of Evita at the peak of her fame (narrated by Che Guevara lol). She was extraordinarily ambitious, for her own vanity but also for the good of her country.

Type Four

The Enneagram Masters agree: Don’t take a test to determine your type.

Rather, pay attention to the description of the one that feels too close to home. In other words, the one that causes you the most pain.

My Enneagram test results put me all over the chart, but when I got to the less-than-flattering stereotypes of the type Four, I knew right away…

“Overreactive”

“Too sensitive”

“Plays the victim”

“Self-loathing and insecure”

“Melancholy and moody”

“Snobby”

“Tragic and morbid”

TOO CLOSE TO HOME, TOO CLOSE TO HOME!!!!!!!

Of course, there is so much more to any type than their worst caricatures, and one thing I love about Fours is our willingness to own everything above and more. You can’t criticize a Four worse than we’ve criticized ourselves! Want to hear all our flaws? How much time do you have?!?

So then, what have I learned from my Four People, besides how to be self-deprecating?

Oh, so much. So so much.

It’s hard for us Fours to see much in ourselves; perhaps our focus toward ‘what’s wrong’ or ‘what’s missing’ helps us feel in control of our greatest fear: abandonment.

But we see the importance of every other person and every other thing, which is a magical way to encounter the world.

If you ever want to experience the wonder of an earthworm or the beauty of a suburban parking lot or the divinity of a garbage can…hang out with a Four.

Chris Huertz lovingly explains it here:

The Enneagram 4 is sometimes called either the Individualist or the Romantic, and with all the love I can muster up, I sometimes refer to the Four as The Diva. These folks are just exceptional in every way, and they intuitively know that, and what that eventually leads to is them actually realizing that they are then the exception to all the rules. The Four has this fundamental need to be unique, and this drive to uncover their own essence. They become incredibly introspective, they can be incredibly passionate, they’re in the most beautiful ways sensitive and sentimental. They can be misunderstood as moody, self-absorbed, and overly-dramatic, but there’s something behind that: The Fours are in search of meaning. Their introspective ability to be sensitive to significance in all things is the fluency of their emotional intelligence.

I love how we reject the division of the world into “sacred” and “profane.” For us, all of it is holy and special. I love how we never brush off a feeling as unworthy of our attention and examination.

I love that we could have a rich conversation with a dustpan because we see the significance of each soul so clearly and easily; some of our most profound moments come from a chat with the cashier in the returns line at Forever 21.

I learn so much from my Four friends about how to pay attention and stay attentive, while living in a world that commands we sleepily compartmentalize and automatically dismiss any thought or feeling that isn’t immediately useful.

There is nothing automatic about the Four.

Fours know it is more valuable to stay awake than be woke, more interesting to collect memories than milestones, and we see more answers in candlelight than in common sense.

My prayer for us Fours is that we can learn to receive love without questioning it. Because if you can see all the significance in the world in that storied Portuguese porcelain teacup with the elegant chip in its handle…I know you can learn to see the significance of your own self.

The wicked witch passionately longs for The Wizard as a ‘rescuer’ (a fixation of the Four) to somehow take away all her problems and finally make her lovable, in part as revenge toward all the people who once rejected her (a Four wound).

Type Five

Fives and I always end up finding each other in this universe.

Is it our gravitation toward the darker, more morose parts of life? Is it our great respect for each other’s alone time? Or is it the way our brains go at the same speed…just completely upside down and backwards from each other?

In any case, the universe is trying to be funny by putting all these Five friends in my life, because they trigger me more than any other type.

The Fives are brilliant. They are genius musicians, mathematicians, architects, engineers, linguists, and secretly the wittiest person at the party (though you’d never know it, because they’re hiding somewhere).

I am helpless in the presence of a Five because I want to know everything going on in their masterful minds. If my own brain is a creaky old Victorian house with some rustic ‘charm’ but many rooms filled with cobwebbed clutter, the brain of a Five is an intimidating Brutalist building with a bustling laboratory downstairs, a symphony hall upstairs, and a think tank between them.

The Five presents as a minimalist, yet their brain is overflowing.

To get attention from a Five is breathtaking. They are ultra-discerning, so I’m giddy with the sensation of specialness when they so much as give me the time of day.

They think way ahead of their time, so it’s an intellectual treat to discuss an idea with them. My usual conversations with Fives involve me demanding that they tell me about space, explain the internet, elaborate on a period of history through a certain lens, or go on a deep-dive about some extremely specific hobby they just took on. They explain in fascinating detail. This is heaven for me.

Yet heavenly flight takes a nose-dive when we discuss real life, and hard feelings.

The Fives are so skilled at retreating and take us with them—like The Phantom of the Opera who can easily lure a woman into his scary isolated lair by transfixing her with his musical compositions—but what happens when we go back out into the real world?

I’ve always been an advocate for the dark. I agree with the Phantom of the Opera who describes “the garish light of day” and “cold unfeeling light.” I, too, see much more beauty and mystery in the lightless, secret, withdrawn places and the strange sacred night.

But we get into some trouble when we overly romanticize midnight without acknowledging noon, or basking in fringes of society without ever enjoying the community that makes our fringes possible in the first place.

Fives can cling to a radical idea so hard that they end up becoming a member of a group that’s just as dogmatic as the one they thought they had escaped.

While it’s easy for a Five to talk all day about space, it can pose a challenge when you ask them about an earthly task—like going to the dentist, completing an errand, or committing to a relationship.

I’ve seen Good Will Hunting a number of times, so I like to think I understand how hard it is for a brilliant person to participate in society like a normie. But all those people out there, enjoying the daylight: They have not put less thought or research into their beliefs than you.

Yes, you are so so sooo brilliant. And those people, they’re just going about their one wild and precious life a different way. A way that I know you can learn from, because I’m trying to, too. Even as a non-brilliant person.

I used to think that the only response to having information was to isolate myself from those who seemed so shallow by comparison. Obviously I still do that; we all do that. But I’ve learned so much from people who I wrote off as too jolly, carefree, silly, and reality-TV-loving.

I learned to love reality TV.

I learned that you can have a lot of knowledge, but not a lot of wisdom.

I learned that you can be informed and still be grounded in everyday normal earth life, boring and slow as it may seem to you. I learned that you can be a normie, and you can also be deep, and you can also be happy.

I now identify as a deep, happy normie.

The Phantom of the Opera sings of a world of fantasies, a haven for thoughts that can’t be expressed in daylight, a dark dimension of reality, a realm where there is no judgement for your radical, immoral, and overbold choices. (Fives would be right at home.)

Type Six

Last year, I spent some time at a donkey rescue sanctuary and I learned to love everything about these mysterious little creatures. They are so gentle, steadfast, loyal, and constant. Yet, when they’re away from home, they succumb to self-doubt; they look ahead, fearful and mistrustful. In those moments, they almost assume a whole new personality; their gentleness is replaced with coldness toward even their most familiar companions.

When I walked with a donkey on a well-worn path that the animal had treaded every day for years, I noticed the donkeys were still always on the lookout for threats.

Walking a donkey is an exercise in patience; while a horse will walk off a cliff if you command it to, a donkey will suddenly stop at the slightest danger (e.g. a flower they’ve never seen before) and take their time to assess the situation until they are absolutely sure it’s not a threat.

Sixes may also be called stubborn for the same reason; they are always on the lookout for danger and may come to a full stop until they have examined all potential risks of going any further.

Like those sweet donkeys, Sixes will take on all the responsibility to keep themselves and others from harm, sometimes forgetting that those around them also really want the best for them.

And like my beloved Sixes, it will take the rest of my life to fully accept the beauty of mystery and the adventure of uncertainty. I have learned so much from Sixes who have courageously taken risks (falling in love often the biggest for them!) despite their tendency to look for every reason not to.

In fact, my Six friends are among the most adventurous people in my life, and the ones who have made bold commitments for the sake of expanding and enriching their lives at the expense of great anxiety. I’ve learned that the bravest people are the ones who are painfully cautious, yet go for it anyway.

Alison’s adorable ballad about her first girlfriend is a delightful study of the Type Six’s tendencies to overthink, overanalyze, and really love love.

Type Seven

When someone walks into a room, and that room noticeably brightens…they might be a Seven.

Encountering a Seven is like bumping into a human-sized fireball of enthusiasm, spontaneity, and childlike wonder. The life of the party has arrived, and is wearing a neon jumpsuit!

I often test as an Enneagram Seven because I so resonate with their desire for variety: a taste of everything life (or the buffet line) has to offer. The insatiable fascination of a Seven translates to a ton of interests and a lot of half-started projects and 15 books on the nightstand and a wildly diverse group of friends from all walks of life.

I relate!

Though Sevens are sometimes characterized as ‘gluttons’ for their desire to get a taste of every single flavor the world has to offer, what I’ve learned from them is how to be generous—specifically, generous of self.

Sevens are skilled nurturers, in theory because they didn’t receive an adequate amount of nurturing as a child. Whatever the case, to be around a Seven is to be blanketed in the cloak of curiosity they throw over anyone in their presence. They make you feel like the most important person in the room, the most important person who has ever been in any room.

But as they wrap you up in questions and insightful comments, they will also be giving of their own self: not only receiving from you, but offering their own honest, vulnerable life experience in return.

This reciprocal care reminds me of an essay my dad once wrote about my name, which comes from the Hebrew maror: a bitter herb. The herb was used to protect dried meat (pre-refrigerator), but also to infuse it with spicy, intricate flavor.

This is how the Seven functions: They nurture, care, and protect, but they are also 100% themselves and will leave their spicy, intricate mark on you.

From Sevens, I have learned that caring for others doesn’t just look like tending to someone else’s needs, but also looks like flying your freak-flag high and bringing your entire personality to any given interaction as a gift to others. It means blessing others with bright color and your favorite song, and never doubting your ability to bring a full-blast of sunshine to someone’s day.

The Seven is going to have a parade and they don’t care who shows up! They truly do not care what you think or whether or not you agree that life’s candy and the sun’s a ball of butter…so long as you don’t come around with your clouds and bad attitude!

Type Eight

I’ve read that the fundamental need of a Type Eight is to be against, but I’ve experienced the Eights as being for.

Eights are for the weak.

.They are for the oppressed.

They are for the defenseless.

Ultimately, they are against the forces that created these groups in the first place.

Eights sometimes come across as tough, intimidating, egocentric, often contrary and grouchy seemingly just for fun.

But behind that is the biggest softy you’ve ever met, who will cry at nonsensical folk songs crooned by sad mumbling Scottish men, and whose hearts will break over an injustice they witness at the grocery store.

They remind me of the concept behind the bull tattoo on my arm: Spanish bulls bred for fighting are physically overwhelming in their strength and capacity for destruction. When provoked into anger, of course they will charge and defend themselves with their massive hooves and menacing horns.

But they don’t want to do any of that. Their inner nature is merciful, self-masterful, and serene.

A healthy Eight (and I’m thrilled to have a few in my life) are enormously powerful and courageous; they will put themselves in harm’s way without a thought to protect a cause or a person they love. Their passionate inner drive is palpable and comes through in a clear loud voice, spectacular presence, and enviable self-assuredness.

But they are much more at home in the grazing meadow than the bull ring. They were not made for fighting, but for carrying others with their strength.

Eights always want the upper hand. Their greatest fear is being controlled by others, and their greatest motivation is to protect themselves and their fierce independence. Mary Magdalene’s lovely song from Jesus Christ Superstar sounds like a terrified, extremely vulnerable Eight who’s losing control as she falls in love. This Sara Bareilles version slaps!

Type Nine

Folks will often ask Enneagram Masters, “Which type is most compatible for me?” and the Masters will answer, “Any two types can have a healthy and happy relationship; there is no good or bad pairing!”

But, when really really pressed on the matter of compatibility, experts will generally pair Type Four (me) with Type Nine (my mom, my fiancé, many of my best friends).

Fours and Nines are the most observant of all the types, which is such a life-giving foundation to share. When you’re an examiner of humans and human nature, you will never run out of funny, horrible, and delicious things to talk about.

When I hang out with one of my favorite Nines, my friend Adam, I’ll give him a prompt like, “Tell me about your uncle,” and he’ll basically give me the oral history of the most fascinating person who’s ever lived. Adam’s remarkable skill for observation makes him such a treasure to talk to, about absolutely anything or anyone.

My mom and I love sharing our juicy observations (this is called gossip) over margaritas, but sometimes it goes a tad deeper.

One morning, my mom handed me a book and told me to read the dog-eared page. “I can’t think of anyone else in my life who would appreciate this description as much as you would,” she said.

First, I think it’s REALLY COOL that she was able to create a human who understood something very specific that she loved. Second, I was so honored and happy that she shared something that touched her with me; I’m always so thrilled when people send me things that they think I’d appreciate. And, come to think of it, it’s usually the Nines in my life!

By Frederick Buechner,

One holy place I know is a workshop attached to a barn. There is a wood-burning stove in it made out of an oil drum. There is a workbench, dark and dented, with shallow, crammed drawers behind one of which a cat lives. There is a girlie calendar on the wall, plus various lengths of chain and rope, shovels and rakes of different sizes and shapes, some worn-out jackets and caps on pegs, an electric clock that doesn’t keep time. On the workbench are two small plug-in radios, both of which have serious things wrong with them. There are several metal boxes full of wrenches, and a bench saw. There are a couple of chairs with rungs missing. There is an old yellow bulldozer with its tracks caked with mud parked against one wall. The place smells mainly of engine oil and smoke—both wood smoke and pipe smoke. The windows are small, and even on bright days what light there is comes through mainly in window-sized patches on the floor. I have no idea why this place is holy, but you can tell it is the moment you set foot in it if you have an eye for that kind of thing. For reasons known only to God, it is one of the places he uses for sending his love to the world through.

I love this description. I love the fact that my mom was moved by this description. I love that my mom shared it with me and correctly assumed that I’d be moved in the same way.

Nines are often stereotyped as doormats, pushovers, people who will shift their opinion depending on whose company they’re in. But Nines are so powerful: for their attentive listening, for their empathy, for their ability to zoom out and see all sides of an argument, for their interest in vivid descriptions and their willingness to share.

All the time, my fiancé will look up from a book he’s reading and say, “Listen to this sentence!”

It’s a joy to be around someone like that.

The Enneagram descriptions will say that Nines doubt themselves, or don’t stand up for what they really believe, or can’t express their full emotions.

But Nines, you have taught me so much about the power of sitting back, of restraint, of thinking before you speak, of placing yourself as a side character and not the main. THE WORLD COULD USE A LOT MORE NINES!!!!!

Imagine: If Nines ruled the world, we’d have a harmonious, healed planet filled with Zen gardens and Scandinavian-designed public structures dedicated to preserving art and popularizing poetry and providing space to think in solitude and among beauty.

The Type Nine is placed in the “doing” (as opposed to thinking, or feeling) area of the Enneagram chart. But anyone who knows a Nine knows that they “do” with their whole heart.

When I met with beautiful brilliant Mariana Plata in Panamá, she revealed to me that she’s always attracted nerds: hyper-intellectual brainiacs who dazzle with their intellect.

But when she heard the line from Hamilton, “I’m looking for a mind at work,” she realized she wanted a break from her pattern:

“I started looking for a heart at work,” she said.

If I could describe the Type Nine in a phrase, it’s this: A heart at work. A heart at work toward knowledge, justice, art, compassion, understanding, making people laugh, making good friends, and being a better person every day.

I don’t have a favorite type but…well, maybe.

Thank you, Nines, for keeping your heart at work. You make us all better.

Aaron Burr never understands why he was the one chosen to survive, and then to thrive as a politician, but he’s a heart at work toward making the best of his existence. “I am the one thing in life I can control” is a lyric that may resonate with my dear Nines.