Peace-keeping and Stubbornness

I’m continuing my fascination with the Enneagram. I’m pretty sure that I’m a 9 (the Peacemaker), but I’m a very five-y 9. (This is not actually a thing, but I relate a lot to 5, which is the Observer, who tends to be a little bit isolated and intellectualizes, and on one test, I typed as a 9, and the wing they gave me was a 5w4. Wings are the types right next to yours— if I’m a 9, my wing could only be an 8 or a 1, so they said I was a 9, but if I wasn’t a 9, I’d be a 5 with a 4 wing. Pretty impressive mental gymnastics, there, as the 9 is in the gut triad, the 5 is in the head triad, and the 4 is in the feelings triad. Covers a lot of bases.) They say a lot of 9s want to be 5s, but it’s pretty rare that a 5 would mistype as a 9. Nines want to be more profound than we are, apparently. Flattering.

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There are a lot of things coming together in me, right now, and I’m not always crazy about how they are coming together. For example, I was talking last week with someone important to me, about how the life I’m living is not what I had in mind for myself, but that it’s kind of okay, because I see how it comes together in a particular way. There’s a George Bernard Shaw quote I like that says “This is the true joy in life, the being used for a purpose recognized by yourself as a mighty one…” And I really think that.

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Sense Memory- Anise

I was eating this salad with dinner last night. I made it kind of awhile ago, with some blanched asparagus and my garden tomatoes, and if we don’t get more serious about eating it, it will go over. It’s got a mustard vinaigrette dressing and some feta and fresh basil. I think it’s delicious. It was not as big of a hit with Mom. You win some…

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Living in an arid climate, we seldom get fog. Today, though, the fog was thick all morning, and late in the day still shrouds the mountains.

I’ve been having a frustrating day— people talking down to me because they are insecure or don’t like what I have to say, misunderstandings— just a challenging day. My computer keyboard can’t keep up with what I’m typing and runs all my words together or misplaces caps and punctuation so I have to correct everything with a time delay. Maddening. As I looked out the window, though, I was struck that the fog is an illusion. The mountains are where they always are, whether I can properly see them or not. The landmarks that orient me are just where they should be.

And so it is with the things in my day. People being patronizing and computer malfunctions— they’re mist obscuring the truths I actually need to deal with.