Mr. Gurdjeiff’s ‘chief characteristic’ and getting your type on the Enneagram.
Or how I went from Point 7 to 9.
Reading the memoirs of C.S. Nott, Teachings of Gurdjieff: A Pupil's Journal, I got a glimpse of what it might have been like to work with Mr. Gurdjieff in a way that’s somewhat similar to our current work with the Enneagram. Shortly after the liberation of Paris, amidst seemingly endless, exacting meal preparations, dinner toasts, music and piercing conversation in his Paris flat, Nott details G working with two young women, new students from England, who have to catch the night train to Dieppe and return to London. In a series of short, intense meetings with G, these students define their ‘chief characteristic’ in a precise way that they could use as they set out on the path of self-remembering. The urgency of discovery is sketched out in simple, direct language.
There is, however, no mention of the Enneagram, no evidence that G used the Enneagram to identify the ‘chief characteristic.’ I find it puzzling that if G did use the Enneagram in this way, we find no clear reference to it in his early students’ accounts. But what we do find is interesting: that the students were equipped with personal, precise, and exacting tools for self observation; that defining one’s chief characteristic was a process, a conversation with the teacher; and that it was something that the student him or herself did as part of their inner work.
Fast forward to late Spring 1975. I am in a large living room on the Arlington in Berkeley. Kathy Speeth has organized a series of nine evening presentations about the Enneagram for the “therapeutic” community. In attendance 15 or so therapists who are interested in the Enneagram but not members of Claudio’s SAT group. Among them is Helen Palmer, who has been hearing about the Enneagram from Claudio’s students in her own practice of psychic readings.
I remember those conversations quite clearly. They were a departure from the usual work of his SAT group. Kathy and Bob Ochs had asked me to be on a ‘panel’ of Seven’s, ego ‘Plan’ as both Ichazo and Naranjo referred to the point “Gluttony;” this was the first time several people of the same fixation spoke in front of a group and answered questions.
Claudio directed, laying a foundation with descriptions of the 9 points. In itself this was not unusual, but his comments were definitely tailored for an audience of trained psychologists, and not the more conversational tone aimed at a student’s personal work that he normally used. The authentic tone of self observation may have been present, but I felt that the obligation of explanation (perhaps performance) distorted the feeling of each point.
In my previous work in SAT, senior students were most involved in what we called proto-typing. In my case Bob Ochs, the Jesuit priest among Claudio’s original students, was my primary source for helping me determine my fixation. Ochs had organized a study group in Chicago shortly after he joined Claudio’s group, and the following Fall he offered a course on the Enneagram at the Jesuit School of Theology in Berkeley where I was a student. He followed the usual academic format—14 weeks of lectures plus additional work—but his presentations and assignments were not the usual seminary fare. By Christmas of that first year, most members of Ochs’ class were typed. He said I was a seven, a ‘classic’ seven, a sexual seven which became the point I worked with for my entire time in SAT.
And so at the invitation of Kathy and Bob, I shared my understanding of ‘Plan’ during those first panels. At one point, Claudio turned to me and asked: “Are you sure you’re a 7?” “Of course,” I said with a laugh. Claudio said, “Ah, there it is. Listen to that laugh. Ken really believes that everything will turn out. That is a clear sign of point 7—the conviction that everything is OK.”
Fast forward again, this time 25 years. It is 1996 and I am taking care of a mutual friend, Bob Hoffman, who is dying of cancer. Claudio, back in Berkeley after teaching in Spain, visits often. One morning as he is leaving, he turns to me and asks, “Did I type you a 7?” “Yes you did” I answered with certainty. (Didn’t he remember?) “I must have been crazy,” Claudio laughs. “You are a 9. No 7 has your earthy sense of humor. If you look for ways to take care of yourself, I think that you will discover a rich vein.”
Of course I knew point 9, and I knew in an instant that Claudio had nailed me. I had been in the conversation too long not to recognize the truth. The 9 is blinded by forgetfulness of self. I was sick and upset for a full week before that split second’s observation, saying goodbye and opening a door to a world that fit me exactly. (I have never seen convincing evidence that any of the Enneagram tests are reliable, but I am convinced that physiological reactions are strong indicators that you have really understood yourself on the Enneagram. Trust yourself, all of yourself, even when you don’t quite feel like yourself.)
So, why am I telling this story? Certainly not to discredit Claudio or his teaching methods or what might appear to be an oversight. My 5 years with him changed the direction of my life. I love life—before I only pretended to love it. Is this a confessional for my own slowness to learn and understand? I hope not. I certainly do not feel that I wasted 25 years thinking that I was a 7. Is it to discredit the understanding of any particular teacher or school? That is not my intention, but I might try to issue a grentle warning not to give yourself over completely to any teacher, in any circumstance—even if they are Jesuits.
Discerning your point on the Enneagram may be instantaneous or it may take years. Certainly don’t be disheartened if you leave your first weekend with no clear idea of your fixation. It is really OK not to know, to be hesitant, or even to change your mind as your understanding and your experience of self deepens.
Or to ask the question in another way: is it also OK to live your life on the assumption that you are not the person you thought, or have been told, you are? Of course. That’s the way that most people live, and they may or may not suffer. Of course my choice would be to live life as honestly and authentically as possible. But it’s also my experience that even when I’ve been blessed with a bright flash of an extraordinary insight, real changes have appeared incrementally, slowly, and even painfully.
As our own understanding increases, we contribute to everyone’s understanding. Any powerful, genuine insight into the mind’s inner workings takes time to sort itself out and make itself useful. Exaggerations, missteps, and unfortunately misuse of the Teaching hurt people rather than liberate them, but conversation and debate are always a healthy antidote if intentions are not self-serving.
There is I think a real lesson in the sense of urgency presented in the story about G’s young women students working to discover their Chief Characteristic in his Paris flat. Especially for me, a 9, it is a task to learn introspection without a lot of plodding and fussing. The ride through Paris to the Gare du Nord is in fact really wonderful. On the other hand tripping out about an imaginary trip to Paris is a waste of time.
Notes on further reading.
Among the many wonderful accounts of Gurdjieff’s teaching, Nott’s is only one. In my view, reading Claudio Naranjo is essential for any student of the Enneagram. I have also written at more length about my own experience with Claudio and the early SAT group on my blog “All and Everything Enneagram.” Please leave any comments, questions, and observations you want.
