Some people are
so nice they tend to merge
with others' preferences. They tend toward epic
tales (it's hard for them to focus). Their driving force is indolence,
in that they're out of touch with their own wishes, a kind of
self-forgetting. Even for those readers who are not growing old
(or who at least naively believe you're invulnerable to the
hazards of aging), you have had moments when you desperately
wanted to remember something – a quote, the punch line to a
funny joke, the key actors in a favorite movie. Or, more
poignantly, you might have been struggling to remember what you
were about to do when distracted by a view through the window,
or the recollection of a minor task undone, or one of the six
interesting books you are reading simultaneously.
Billy Collins amuses us with this quality in
the poem
Forgetfulness:
The name of the author is the first to
go
followed obediently by the title, the plot,
the heartbreaking conclusion, the entire novel
which suddenly becomes one you have never read,
never even heard of...
But the next few lines are not quite
so amusing, are they?
...as if, one by one, the memories you
used to harbor
decided to retire to the southern hemisphere of the brain,
to a little fishing village where there are no phones...
These lost moments are
evidence of the extreme distractibility of Nines. They're not
lazy but rather out of touch with what's important to them. Indoctrinated
to merge with others' preferences, they embody a loss of self. In order
to stay in that place where there are no phones, they cannot be present, must
not engage passionately with the energy of each emerging moment.
Al Zolynas captures this quality
exactly in Postcard From Home. He
plays on the familiar theme of vacationers who so fully enjoy their new and fascinating
environs, they write postcards to their friends saying, "Wish you were
here." Zolynas turns this into a revelation about self-forgetting, especially
with these lines:
Sitting on the deck, bare feet
on the railing, I watch and listen to
this day...
...Each detail says "This!"
and has always and ever only said "This!"
Wish I were here.
When devoted to others' agendas, a tamping down
of one's own wishes creates a locked trunk of feelings, so many Nines experience life
as a monotone. Consequently they can be somewhat
Bored
as depicted by Margaret Atwood:
All those times I was bored
out of my mind. Holding the log
while he sawed it. Holding
the string while he measured, boards,
distances between things, or pounded
stakes into the ground for rows and rows
of lettuces and beets, which I then (bored)
weeded...
The speaker gave herself over to someone who was clear about
what he wanted to have done. She acquiesced. But why? Why wouldn't she
say, "I'm bored to death with your wood sawing. I have other things I cherish
that I want to do. Saw it yourself!" Taking a strong position is
difficult for Nines. They see all sides of an issue and are essentially
non-aggressive. They learned to be good children in the illusion that being good
would make them loveable. But their focus becomes too narrow, holding no space for errant
feelings or thoughts.
John Updike's
Dog's
Death is touching because the puppy in his poem works so hard to earn her owners'
praise:
She must have been kicked unseen or brushed by
a car.
Too young to know much, she was beginning to learn
To use the newspapers spread on the kitchen floor
And to win, wetting there, the words, "Good dog!
Good dog!"
...In the car to the vet's, on my lap, she
tried
To bite my hand and died..
...Back home, we found that in the night her
frame,
Drawing near to dissolution, had endured the shame
Of diarrhea and had dragged across the floor
To a newspaper carelessly left there.
Good dog.
The dog's attempt to please is an
apt metaphor. Such a high need to be good in order to win others' love is a kind of death.
Most Nines are extremely compassionate towards mistreated animals, cannot bear
– for example – to think of
elephants being maimed and left to die, their tusks removed. The powder from
elephant tusks is thought to have special powers. Like these elephants, Nines
have been robbed
of their power, mute instead of voicing their presence, their needs, their wants, their
passions.
Where do deep feelings such as anger go? They're
locked up but must seep out, often in a passive-aggressive way. Wendell
Berry cautions us about such a quality in
A
Warning to My
Readers:
Do not think me gentle
because I speak in praise
of gentleness...
...I am
a man crude as any,
gross of speech, intolerant,
stubborn, angry, full
of fits and furies...
Nonetheless, Nines are
usually sweet-natured people whose inclusiveness provides a safe
harbor for others. Their natural humility and grace are often
expressed in peaceful acceptance and gratitude for life's
simplest pleasures. This Buddha-like quality surrounds us as
gently as the scent of sandalwood in Allen Ginsberg's lovely
poem
After Yeats:
Now incense fills the air
and delight follows delight,
quiet supper in the carpet room...
old friends at rest on bright mattresses,
old paintings on the walls, old poetry
thought anew...
Perhaps more than any
other Enneagram style, transforming Nines evoke the vision
of spiritual awakening. Once aware, once able to engage in life
with passion, they can appreciate the presence of any day – the sky, the
air, the light – as sung by Denise Levertov in
Variation
on a Theme by Rilke:
A certain day became a presence to me;
there it was, confronting me...
...it was I, a bell awakened,
and what I heard was my whole self
saying and singing what it knew: I can.
Other Poems that Illustrate this Personality
Style
Manners
(Elizabeth Bishop)
Fine Adjustments (Michael Hofmann)
Last Walk (Michael Hofmann)
the lesson of the moth (Don Marquis)
Far Country (W.S. Merwin)
Getting Serious (Alice
Friman)
Mosaic (Constance Menefee)
Ritual (Susan Mitchell)
The House (Mary Oliver)
A Portrait (Dorothy Parker)
Old Mama Saturday (Marie Ponsot)
The Return of the Invisible Man (Charles Simic)
Down With Fanatics! (Roger Woddis)
Composed Upon Westminster Bridge (William Wordsworth)
A slumber did my spirit seal (William Wordsworth)
Waking (David Whyte)
A Nine Considers His Curses and Blessings
(Al Zolynas)
