America, The Magnificent Seven

What the hell is an enneagram, you might ask? I was completely clueless myself up until earlier this afternoon when, as luck would have it, I happened upon the Enneagram Central web site. I don't know how, I may well have had my fingers on the wrong keys Googling one thing or another.

In any event, there I was invited to "explore inner terrain," likely a variation on what I might have intended to Google in the first place. Yes, please. Clicked through to learn that:

The fundamental premise of the Enneagram is that each of us has one dominant (not exclusive) energy that drives us in everything we do. This dominant energy is our greatest gift so we use it too much and it becomes our chief fault - or sin. This energy, like a prevailing wind that bends a tree permanently, sculpts our inner terrain and shapes our entire life.

Figuring which one of the nine possible types your inner terrain might be should help get a fix on your biggest problem in life and your greatest gift, which "remarkably ... are the same."

I took the test of course, curious what main wind bent my tree and sculpted my insides, which style of the nine I would test out to be. Turns out I'm stylin' as a five, the thinking observer.

Digging down through the subtype tiers, apparently a sneered at, reclusive, detached hermit just kind of watching stuff happen around me and having thoughts about it, or something like that.

That's close to right, I suppose, excepting the being sneered at part, as far as I know anyway. I'll have to watch out for that, from my hermitage alone, of course. It did point out too, though, that fives are liable to have serial killer tendencies, so sneerers beware.

It is worth noting that once the final score is in and you've been pigeonholed, if you're displeased with what is your result, there is a convenient do-over link. "Does this description fit you? If it does not, go back over the test and retake." Enneagram profiling is spookily spot on, repeated as necessary.

So that is my biggest problem, my greatest gift, the thinking and watching from a distance. Something or other to do with self-preservation. Guess staying out of the fray so much, my fiveishness helps in keeping me protected somehow from not going bonkers.

Kind of sad really, when you think about it. If only I could have ended up a happy-go-lucky seven instead, no care in the world other than for myself.

You know the sevens. Out and about raising ruckuses effecting themselves feeling superior, more important than they truly are. Their self-preserving is in their numbers, surrounding themselves with similarly pompous sevens, their world-view skewed at the expense of the truth, effecting themselves winners at the end, bothersome little details be damned.

Passing out rose-colored glasses for anyone watching, backing up whatever they do, they're pretty good as a group spinning negative stuff into something less unpleasant, too.

So the problem is the gift? The problem is pretty obvious here, although presumably the sevens would not be aware. I reckon in their estimation it's all gift, holding that en narcissistic masse, mutually masturbating one anothers' egos, it's easy staying oblivious to the reality of being a bunch of douches.

Seems that sevens in general are predisposed to proving the enneagramic tenet of "dominant energy" used too much becoming "our chief fault - or sin."

On further consideration I think I'll stay satisfied landing at a five and skip the optional do-over. At least my problem-gift necessitates thinking as well as observing, and we've all been witness to what the thoughtless sevens can knuckle down and do in their delusional quest for supremacy. Me watching from afar, of course.