It only makes sense that there are a limited number of personality “types” in the world. We live in an orderly universe, after all. Astrology would have us believe there are twelve. According to the Myers-Briggs Type Indicator, there are sixteen. The Enneagram says there are nine.
Last weekend I took a class in the Myers-Briggs (I’m an INFJ) and in the Enneagram (I’m a 7), and was stunned to speechlessness at how accurate they both were in talking about me. I’m also a Taurus, and that profile fits like a glove, too, all of them different, yet surprisingly undeniable.
Some people are distressed when they discover that they conform to a certain type, others find comfort in it.
I like it.
I like seeing my strengths and weaknesses from the point of view of an impartial observer. I like seeing my husband’s natural traits spelled out for me in a book, and from now on, I’ll react differently to some of the things he does and says because I know those things are in his nature. I don’t try to change him, and we don’t fight, but I do my share of eye-rolling. That will stop now that I understand him better.
The Urantia Book says that the key to loving our neighbors is understanding them. I came a long way toward that this weekend, and had yet one more gut-level validation about the exquisite architecture of this magnificent universe in which we live.