The Enneagram and Forgiveness

Forgiveness is a balm that restores our hearts and our relationships. Sometimes we experience pain, sometimes we inflict it upon others. The healing power of forgiveness is part of living a full and abundant life.

We can learn to give and receive forgiveness when we learn to see ourselves and others with more clarity, and less judgment. Engaging with forgiveness depends on bringing compassionate presence to what hurts—to our own wounds as well as the wounds of others.

When we’ve been hurt we need to respond, and our emotions give us energy and information about what to do. But when chronic anger and pain take over, they drain our life force. Keeping the old story of those episodes going requires a lot of energy and claims much of our attention. Ruminating and replaying is a response to being harmed that can cause us further injury. It’s like continuing to pump a spinning top. Perpetuating that circular movement is mesmerizing, and there’s a satisfying sense of balance from seeing the world spin ‘round and ‘round that same axis even if it doesn’t get us anywhere.

Learning to recognize such unhelpful patterns allows us to break free of them. The Enneagram is the best way I know for making our way along that path. It helps us become aware of our blind spots, and to appreciate the motivations behind the actions of other people in our lives. Learning to recognize our habitual patterns of thought, emotion, and behavior allows us to notice when they’re taking over, pause instead of automatically reacting, and allow whatever arises in us without being driven into our habitual behavior. These intentional actions create the space for choosing our response rather than reacting automatically.  Our patterns can keep us stuck; relaxing them allows us to see more clearly and respond more effectively.

The Enneagram teaches that we rely on three basic kinds of intelligence—mental, physical, and emotional. All three of these centers of awareness inform our ability to give and receive forgiveness.

In our mental awareness we hold onto particular ways of remembering and interpreting our experience. Our patterns of thought (including our critical, judging minds) influence how we understand our lives and where we focus our attention.

Physically, we carry not only bodily injuries but emotional traumas. They are stored in the tissues of the body and embedded in our nervous system. It affects what we find ourselves doing, as well as our physical health.

In our heart we carry the emotional pain and distress of what happened. When the pain is too much, we harden our hearts to avoid feeling it. This cuts us off from feeling connected to life and to other people.  

This mental, emotional, and spiritual suffering becomes chronic tension in the body, which blocks our life energy, distorts our ability to see clearly, and causes further injury. These maladies are eased as we grow beyond them and find ourselves able to forgive.

But trying to forgive too quickly, avoiding the pain of what happened, is more of a spiritual bypass than authentic, healing forgiveness. There is often something to be grieved in the process of forgiveness. To forgive because we think we should is the act of an ego determined to do the right thing. Forgiveness is more like finding out that we can release what we once believed held us tightly in its grip.

When we can forgive, we stop magnifying the wrong. We stop giving the one who wronged us so much power.

Forgiveness grows naturally as we develop compassion and understanding. Forgiveness is not an act of egoic will; it’s an opening of the heart that allows forgiveness to unfold. When we’re trying to manage our lives according to the defenses and fears of the ego, we aren’t able to extend forgiveness—to others or to ourselves. As we relax the type patterns of the ego, we make space for a genuine sense of connection and trust and belonging. The simple practice of bringing our attention to what we’re grateful for helps in making that shift.

C. G. Jung observed that we don’t so much solve our problems as outgrow them. This can include our ability to offer or receive forgiveness.

Forgiveness does not condone the wrong. Forgiveness does not say it’s ok, or that it didn’t matter. Forgiveness acknowledges the harm and grieves its cost. It means finding a place to stand apart from the emotion and pain. Forgiveness involves holding our suffering with the stronger, wiser, and more loving arms of our higher Self. Or put another way, allowing our hurting self to be held in the loving arms of God.

When we experience how much more we are than our wounded selves, we have a chance to see how the other person is more than the wounding agent. In offering forgiveness we see the other person with the eyes of compassion; we see them as more than an agent of pain. When we are the ones who cause the wounds, we learn to show ourselves that same compassion; we hold tenderly our own suffering as well as that of others.

Either way, we see the damage that results when we’re caught in our own drama, flailing in a way that vectors pain. We can ground ourselves in the truth that our life is bigger than this difficult part of our story, and we can let that top spin down.

Susan Christerson Brown

Working with Anger using the Enneagram

Fire is such a natural metaphor for anger they’re woven together into our language. Fire can “rage.” We “burn” with anger. Fire, like anger, can catch without warning and blaze out of control. Or it can smolder unnoticed, waiting for enough fuel and air to make itself known.

Fire is also a life-giving element. It brings warmth and light. It transforms food into nourishment. Fire makes it possible for metal to be shaped by the smith.

Likewise, anger has life-giving qualities. It brings information, showing us when an important line has been crossed. The power of anger plays a role in our survival. It generates the energy we need to counter a threatening force, whether the danger is to our safety and survival, our sense of justice, or our sense of worth.

But when anger takes over it means we’re no longer in charge. The anger of others easily triggers that response in ourselves. Our instinctive reaction of fight, flight, or freeze is revved up, and we don’t get to choose how to respond. Instead, we slip into unconscious automatic patterns that formed long ago. For some people, anger brings on a volcanic eruption that drives others away. For others, the pattern ignites a backfire that depletes the available oxygen.  

The Enneagram is the most effective tool I’ve found for growing beyond our habitual reactions. Learning our Enneagram type helps us become aware of our pattern and recognize when we’re caught in it. Rising anger is instinctive, and our reaction to it becomes wired into our nervous system from a very young age. The body experiences anger before the mind has a chance to process it. Anger-driven reactivity looks very different for each Enneagram type, but being caught there is to give up control and choice.  

Being caught in our type pattern means we’re not free. It also means that our view of the world is distorted. Our lives and our relationships suffer for it. But if we can learn to recognize what’s happening, we can respond in a way that serves us better. We can use the energy and information anger brings, while choosing our response with more wisdom and skill.

This begins with noticing when anger begins to ignite our automatic responses, and allowing a counter-intuitive pause. Take a deep breath. Our nervous system gears up as if we don’t have time to think, as if our survival is at stake. It takes a few moments to process the reality that we have a choice. Pausing creates a space in which we can decide how best to respond.

We need the clarity and power that anger brings. Yet it raises internal alarms because anger and danger look and feel similar. It takes practice to discern what’s really happening, calm the alarm, and respond in a more effective way. It’s simple, but it’s not easy.

That this is possible at all feels miraculous. Practicing the pause makes new options available. It grants us more freedom in how to live than we might ever have imagined.

David Daniels, cofounder of The Narrative Enneagram school where I did my training, has written about anger and the enneagram here.

Susan Christerson Brown

Walnut Season

Earlier this week I took an evening walk under a canopy of beautiful old trees. The light was golden, shining through the sheltering limbs. But as the breeze stirred, the walnut trees did what they do in the fall. Suddenly I was surrounded by the force of heavy green-husked globes pelting the pavement and splitting open. Hoping to avoid a knock on the head, I scurried to the other side of the street.

walnut-in-hull

Last week on a retreat at Loretto, I also found walnuts wholly or partially encased in their hulls scattered across the grounds and walkways. I had to watch where I stepped to avoid stumbling. These gifts from the trees can trip you up, but at the same time they offer themselves to whomever will gather them.

The retreat was led by Lisa Maas, whose ability to lead Spirit-centered groups has enriched my life again and again. Over the two days we spent together, our group talked about the fears and self-protective habits that get in the way of fully experiencing life, love, other people, and the presence of the Divine. Using the tools of the Enneagram, we looked at our personal types according to our primary coping strategies. We considered how, though they may have served us well long ago, those patterns of behavior eventually interfere with living a full life.

Coming face-to-face with how we limit ourselves through long-held patterns is a moment of truth that can be very painful. Yet that is the human condition, and seeing it is how we come to maturity. The path to our transformation is through our weakest aspects. In our encounter with the inadequacy of our approach to life, we invite the divine healing that turns our limitations inside-out and reveals the gifts, and the strengths, that are uniquely ours to share with the world.

I was thinking of all these things as I walked the campus of Loretto. I considered gathering the walnuts lying about, but that black inner hull meant unavoidably staining my hands and clothing. I love walnuts, but there is no way to get to them without encountering the messy blackness surrounding the nut. On the other hand, the intact hull is beautiful, and bowl of those green spheres would make a lovely display. But what a waste it would be to never get to the real treasure inside.

I’m glad to find walnuts at the grocery store already hulled and shelled. But in our authentic spiritual lives we are not spared the messiness. The way to spiritual maturity leads through dismaying truths we don’t want to contend with. But this is simply how growth works. If we can bear to be present with them, our shortcomings show us what we need. They break open our husk and reveal our vulnerability, our need for guidance, and the way forward.

That’s how we get to the heart of life. That’s how we grow into who we really are. Our frailties make us part of humanity and teach us compassion—for ourselves and others. As Leonard Cohen says, “There’s a crack in everything. That’s how the light gets in.”

Looking deeply at what is can be messy, like a walnut hull’s black interior. But that’s not the end of the story. If we keep going we find what is nourishing and delicious. We’re surrounded with reminders and invitations to take this journey. Walnuts are falling all the time, trying to get our attention.

Look out!