When Iron is Mercy not Protection, The Enneagram 8 on the Camino

It has been several days since i have written. This is partly due to ignoring the journaling practice and avoiding what is alive in me. It is also because i have been well connected to a group of friends that prefer to process together around a small table and wine. These friends: Manuela (Austria),  Lukas (USA-NYC), Livio (Italy or Southern Europe as he often says), Laura (USA-Memphis), Dulce (Mexico), and Teagan (Australia) have become good friends over the past few days. The relationship began back in Sahagun but solidified several days later when we gathered at an Casa de Camino, an albergue in Valverde la de Virgen. Casa de Camino is sadly located on the highway but joyfully included a hammock circle for tired pilgrims. There were no supermarkets nearby, so we could only enjoy what was available from her albergue, which was pretty much wine, water, and cheese.

The hospitalero at Casa de Camino is Carol, and she is a lover of life. Her albergue invited others to rest and enjoy her hospitality. We completed our laundry and showered, then the pilgrims gathered in the hammock circle for rest and wine. Six hours later Carol called us in for dinner, and she told me, “No more wine" as she poured another glass. We laughed all night long. At the end of the evening, Carol, the pilgrims, and others from the neighborhood gathered for a group photo. What a night to remember. Since then we pilgrims have traveled together. It is so good.

Now i am in Ponferrada; this is the home of the Knight's Templar castle. I am writing at the base of the castle and across the street from the church. The location is surreal, and I can sense a calling to understand the life of the Knights Templar as much as i am seeking to understand the life of a pilgrim. 

Enneagram 8 at The Iron Cross

The ultimate reason why i have hesitated to write recently is that i don’t want to deal with my enneagram energy in any permanent way. I spent August 12 on enneagram 8 and it leaked over into August 13. Now I am writing on August 14, the day my friends arrive from the USA. When I started the enneagram on the camino journey, I never imagined the enneagram 8 day would end at the Cruz de Ferro (The Iron Cross). 

Cruz de Ferro is the place where people bring their burdens. Many pilgrims carry rocks from home both for themselves and sometimes for others (enneagram 2 people). They carry these rocks all the way across Spain to the Iron Cross. They lay their rocks/burdens at the cross 222 km from Santiago. I didn’t bring any rocks. My personal and social burdens weigh enough without adding physcial weight to my bag.

Enneagram 8 day was exhausting. I must admit I remember very little of the details. I do remember many things (people and events) coming to mind and reciting the liturgical phrase, “Grant them mercy, grant me peace.” Ultimately this is all the 8 needs to do. I am convinced that the Camino is here to teach me mercy....mercy in all things.

The irony is as I was completing the enneagram 8 day, I received a text from a loved one thousands of miles away. She told me that she met someone who told a negative story about me. I was broken. I don’t know the person who told the story and don’t know why a stranger to my friend would choose to tell a story to make her look good and me look bad. Normally I would work hard to find out who this person is and then engage in a fierce (more often ferocious) conversation, directly. Instead, I took a deep breath, felt the sadness and anger and betrayal of the story (the sadness was very painful), and then said, “Grant them mercy, grant me peace. I do not need to know the person or control the situation. Let people do what they do - bless them, release me.”

I woke up this morning worried that i would hold this story for too long and continue anger at the person while purging the sadness. The story still hurts, and I am learning that criticism behind my back is very painful. My ferocity is too often armor against feeling the pain, itself. 

The little boy in me is very alive today, and I have long seen the world as a sandbox for playfulness and friendship. I am not someone who sees the world as a field or court for competition. Competition is exhausting; the playfulness rewarding. This is what I love about the camino. You can’t win. If you arrive too soon, you often arrive alone. If you arrive on time, you arrive with others. I want the little boy to play with others, not be protective of or competitive with others.

Richard Rohr says this about 8s

The EIGHT’s primal knowing was that God/Reality was warmth, food, protection, empathy, relationship, and total understanding of how weak, needy, and hungry we all are. Feeling separate from such a nurturing God leaves the EIGHT vulnerable and needy. To seemingly “fix” this dilemma, the EIGHT’s ego decides to hate, reject, deny, and project that neediness everywhere else—so they don’t have to cry over it inside themselves. “I will never cry,” they say, and “I will protect the little ones from crying.” They decide to do God’s work themselves. “I will partner everybody and everything and take away this horrible aloneness, this unnecessary sadness, this unjust world. Because I know it to be softer and kinder than it appears.” And they do!

EIGHTs do a good job of hiding their vulnerability. They impress us as strong and mighty; they are capable of imparting a feeling of strength to others as well. They have a strong sense of justice and truth. They instinctively know when dishonesty or injustice is at work. EIGHTs address such situations openly and directly. They can be a rock of reliability for others and develop a tremendous sense of responsibility. When they commit themselves to a cause, they can bring enormous energies to bear on it. Mother Teresa was an eight, but so redeemed that she appeared to the world to be a TWO, exactly as the Enneagram predicts.

Fortunately, EIGHTs like to take the side of the weak. Their passion for justice and truth often leads them to side with the oppressed and defenseless. This is because they unconsciously know that within their own innermost self—behind a façade of hardness, invulnerability, curses, or even brutality—there’s a vulnerable little boy or a little girl (which they reveal to very few people). When you’re really poor, helpless, and weak, the EIGHT’s protective instinct is aroused, and they will do anything to assist you. But as soon as you express in any way that you have your own power, then the EIGHT will prove that they have more power..... 

Hudson says, “Virtue is what’s cultivated in a person who has continually oriented his or her heart toward the Truth. The more an EIGHT opens to that grace, being willing to be affected, the more the virtue starts to manifest. . . . The virtue of the EIGHT is [traditionally called] innocence. We call it mercy. To be powerful, strong, and merciful, like a true king, is the journey an EIGHT is here to take. . . . It will always be about remembering where the real strength comes from, restoring the heart, the tenderness . . . and letting this mercy be cultivated in you.” ..

Who would not love that? Even if it wears you out.—

I walked to Cruz de ferro and asked God to work with me in removing the armor and exchanging it for tenderness. I cried the entire way up the mountain. I don’t know what I cried about, but it felt like the pangs of Aslan removing the scales from Eustace in the classic Narnia tales. When I came upon the cross, I was too tired to have a response. The hike up to the cross is a physical challenge; adding emotion quadruples the exhaustion. 

Instead of going directly to the cross, i removed my shoes and rucksack and took an hour long nap on a bench. I didnt want to talk to anyone, not because it felt dramatic but because it felt so empty. There were no words available to add to the situation. 

When I woke up, my pilgrim friends were still there. Most of them were also sitting in silence. One pilgrim friend boisterously offered, “RAISINS?!” I declined and moved from the bench to the sun. I was quite happy they were still here.

My shoes were off, so once the abundant crowds departed from the cross, I began walking toward it. I was barefoot, so each rock on the way to the cross impaled my feet. Letting burdens go is painful work, and I wanted to physcially feel the pain of getting closer as well as letting go. 

I climbed to the top of the rock pile and leaned against the pole. My newest pilgrim's pose is arms opened wide with palms to the sky. I took the pilgrims pose and could feel the light of the sun shining on me. Christ, again, is calling to come closer. I felt so close; the sign of the cross was a signal of abundant life in that moment. My friends all joined me at the top of the hill for a final photo. This felt good and right.

I descended the Cruz de Ferro, tied my laces and began to walk again. Before I left the mountain, the pilgrims gathered in a circle and prayed the Lord’s prayer. Worship happens on the camino, both through individual prayer in churches and the occasional yet spontaneous collective worship. I am guessing many of these pilgrims hadn’t prayed the Lord’s Prayer in sometime. The cross is foolishness to some, yet it calls out for wisdom and love from all. I guess the Holy Spirit isn't afraid of anyone.

The walk down was filled with questions and tears. I kept saying (out loud), "I can practice mercy occasionally, but i don’t know how to be merciful." I am afraid too many will hurt me (and others) if mercy is the natural response. I need to be protected and to protect; otherwise we will be too exposed.

I think the iron cross is inviting one thing - mercy by exposure not protection by armour. The irony of its name.