Geometry Speaks
a place to begin if you’re new here (part one)
“Little by little, all cosmic truths become known because beings who,
by their own efforts, learn some truth or other, share it with others.”
~ George Ivanovich Gurdjieff
Several years ago, on an early autumn morning, I pondered the hidden nature of Sacred Geometry. What makes a particular geometric form sacred? I wondered.
For a long while I stared at the Enneagram—a geometric figure that looks something like a tiara resting on a triangle. It stared back at me. I blinked, then noticed something. My mind was trying to bend the arms of the tiara into triangles.
“Go ahead,” it seemed to encourage, “do it.”
I got out my drawing pad, sketched a freehand circle, and drew a triangle inside it. Followed by two more. Three triangles. Nine points. I regarded them. Something is missing.
As that thought arose, a fourth triangle appeared in my mind’s eye. So I drew it. Four triangles. Twelve points. Next came a curious notion: The Enneagram is evolving.
As if in response to my thought, an image flashed in my mind of the upward pointing triangle divided into four smaller triangles. I drew them.
That’s when Sacred Geometry came alive for me.
The body of work called Enneagram of Personality derives its name, plus a concept of the divided self, from mystic G.I. Gurdjieff, who introduced this geometric form into western spiritual thought at the dawn of the twentieth century. He didn’t disclose exactly where he found the symbol, nor did he link it to personality traits. Gurdjieff was devoted to decoding the hidden meaning within its mathematics, through direct experiential encounters. He was certain the Enneagram held a key that individuals could use to unify the self.
I knew none of this when I began my dialogue with the Enneagram. Looking back, it seems that Gurdjieff and others revealed pieces of a hidden mystery that were essential for their distinct moments in time. Unwittingly, perhaps I had stepped into that same stream of wisdom to reveal what is vital for my moment in time.
For years now, this twelve-pointed geometry that I’ve dubbed Wheel of Wisdom has kindly responded to all my questions. Sometimes its replies arrive in the form of an internal image: something for me to draw. Sometimes replies come in the form of an idea: something for me to contemplate. Sometimes, even if a reply comes swiftly, its meaning remains elusive for a long while.
That’s how it was with the large triangle made up of four smaller triangles.
“These inner triangles are the key,” the figure seemed to communicate.
“Key to what?” I asked. There was no reply.
I gazed at the shape intently for a time, then my perception started to shift. With my physical eyes, I was still staring at my hand-sketched, two-dimensional drawing. Within the realm of my imagination, the geometry was now alive. Although I could not draw it that way, it was three-dimensional—each of its large triangles was four-sided. It undulated in spiraling motion and shimmered with luminous color. The brilliant white light that emanated from its center appeared to refract through a kind of prism created by the primary colored triangles on its face.
This suggested to me that our earthly experience somehow splits or divides the full-spectrum light of soul into three aspects of human form: physical (red), mental (blue), and emotional (green). I now noticed that, all together, the 12 points of the figure looked like a color wheel or artist’s palette—an array of hues to create a work of art.
“Very good,” said the voice, as if responding to my thoughts.
“Are you saying we paint ourselves with shades of light?” I asked.
“Well said,” the voice replied.
Suddenly I understood that the nine “personality types” referenced in the Enneagram of Personality were being shown here as essential energies, cosmic archetypes, or fundamental tones that we combine in unique ways to shape and shade our human experience.
“Think for a moment of snowflakes,” the voice suggested. “Although all snowflakes are comprised of the same basic properties, the proportion, density, and pattern of each one is unique. Similarly, all human beings are made of the same basic properties, yet your particular combination of those qualities, and what you create with them, is one of a kind.”
“So we are made up of a spectrum of archetypes” I concluded.
“Yes. You are created by and you create through an array of archetypal energies. Your human character or personality is one of those creations. Think of it as your soul’s prized creation.”
This last remark surprised me. Because, like the ego, personality is often vilified or reduced to pathology. It’s uncommon to consider this aspect of ourselves a “prized creation.” It was also surprising because I’d never thought about my soul playing a role in creating my human self.
Over the years, this Wheel of Wisdom has shown me the creative, collaborative, and unified nature of being—a unity that does not vanquish individuality; rather it nests individuality inside a larger context.
However, I’ve come to recognize that a unified philosophy of being means little if it does not make a tangible difference in our lives. So consider this:
What might change if you lived as if you are a soul-being and a nature-being who is collaborating with, and learning through, your experiences as a human being?
What might be different if you lived as if your earthly difficulties are a necessary part of a cosmic journey of learning that you call your life?
For me, it completely changes the game to see this human self as a pioneering tendril of my vast soul consciousness. Furthermore, I’m more grounded in this earthly body when I feel my kinship with all aspects of the natural world. I’m more open to the challenges of this journey when I perceive them as essential to my learning—as a human, as part of nature, and as a soul.
Which brings us back to the key at the center of the Wheel of Wisdom.
I wondered, “Is there something about how we relate to our physical, emotional, mental, and spiritual selves that creates a kind of key? A key to understanding ourselves? Or a key to evolving ourselves?”
“You’ll get there. Keep going,” the inner voice assured me.
I glanced up from my drawing to notice the world outside my window. The day was warming. Large boughs of cedar and fir gently waved. Surely, I would keep going.