There once was a man who loved Rome, although he had never been. Growing up lower-middle class in the middle of the Bible Belt, his family was more likely to vacation in Branson than near the Vatican. But this did not deter the young boy.
He read everything he could about ancient Rome and the Roman Empire. He devoured travel guides detailing the best places to eat, sleep, and kick back in the modern era. he prided himself on his vast knowledge of the city and its history. He studied maps and current photos. He likely could navigate his way through the city blindfolded.
But the truth was, he had still never actually been to Rome.
As an adult he was filled with butterflies anytime he came across anyone who was from the fabled city, and the ways he spoke about it, even natives thought he was a frequent traveler. The conversation always took a strange turn once he admitted he’d never been. “I just really love it,” he’d say in reply to their tilted heads.
“But how do you know if you love it if you’ve never been?” one woman finally asked.
The man was stunned, but he managed to reply, “I just find it so interesting, that’s why I learned so much about it!”
“You don’t know anything about it,” the woman continued with a caring sternness, “You’ve acquired facts, and you’ve looked at maps, but everything you think you know has come from someone else. You can’t truly love something you’ve never experienced for yourself!”
This thought had never really occurred to the man. Of course, he always intended to travel to Rome some day, but it seemed as though something always got in the way. And there was never any urgency around it, because there was always another documentary to watch or book to read. But the woman’s words cut like a knife despite her best efforts to be kind.
The cut revealed a fear the man had kept buried for years: What if I don’t actually know Rome? What if it’s nothing like what I thought? What if I don’t even like it?
The thoughts raced through his mind as his anxiety spiralled him straight to the nearest airport. As he boarded the plane he knew his life would never be the same.
“There’s no going back now,” he mumbled under his breath as the flight attendants finished their safety presentation and the captain rolled the plane onto the runway.
The flight felt longer than he had anticipated, and despite following all the guidance given in his favorite travel blogs, he felt exhausted and jetlagged. He could barely keep his eyes open through baggage claim, but as he stepped towards the automatic sliding doors that lead to the taxi pickup area the fear coursed through his veins and made him painfully alert.
“An airport is an airport, but outside those doors is Rome.”
He took a deep breath and stepped outside.
It was loud. Hot. Smelly—not necessarily in a bad way, but just so very different. There seemed to be a million people all right next to him waiting to get a taxi. He finally hailed a cab and he gave the driver the address of the hotel he was staying in. Of course, the man knew the way, but something about the reality of driving in Rome disoriented him. When the drive took a turn he wasn’t expecting, he spoke up, “Isn’t it the other way?”
“You could go that way, but this way is faster, and you’ll see more.”
He wasn’t sure if he could handle seeing more. The man became glued to the car window, overcome with emotion. Sights he thought he knew flying past him, sprinkled with so many things he never expected. He was still a couple miles from his hotel, but he couldn’t take it anymore, “Let me out!” the man cried. The cab driver was surprised, but pulled over as soon as he could safely.
The man grabbed his bags and burst out the side of the taxi spilling himself on to the Roman streets for the first time. His senses were completely bombarded and he began to weep.
Another Roman woman came up to him and in her best attempt at english (because he was so obviously not from here) asked if he was alright.
“It’s too loud, it’s hot, everything smells strange. It’s nothing like I thought! There’s so much MORE!”
The woman gave him a confused look.
“I never really knew anything,” the man cried, “This is nothing like what I expected or wanted, and I…I hate it!” Then the man paused, and looked the woman in the eye, tears streaming down his face, and said,
“But I’m finally home.”
This is my best attempt at a parable about the Enneagram.
The Enneagram is a map of human experience. It is most helpful and effective as a travel guide for our personal/spiritual journey.
It can be a blast to study travel guides and learn all the history and trivia about places we’ve never been, but none of it is real until we start to travel.
The Enneagram finds it’s true value when we actually start to engage in our personal/spiritual journey in earnest. We get the most out of this tool when we find how it actually works in our lives.
The Enneagram is a map that shows us how to find our way Home, and no amount of learning about Home can replace actually being there.
If you’re interested in learning how to use the Enneagram to actually get Home, I’m hosting a year-long cohort starting in January focused on exactly that.
You can find more information about it here: https://www.consciousenneagram.com/enneagram-expedition
Here is a prayer for your journey:
G*d/Universe/Divine/Source/Spirit, today help me set aside everything I think I know about You,
everything I think I know about myself,
everything I think I know about others,
and everything I think I know about my own journey,
so I may have an open mind and a new experience with all these things.
Please help me see the truth.
GREAT post, Abi! Hah. I was hanging on through the whole story wondering where you were taking us! So interested in joining the upcoming Enneagram cohort to dig deeper!!... one nervous question: How much is to join the year long cohort? - timmi