#intellection

c. 1400, intellecioun "meaning, purpose;" mid-15c., "the understanding;" 1610s, "an act of understanding," from Old French intelleccion and directly from Medieval Latin intellectionem (nominative intellectio), noun of action from past participle stem of Latin intelligere "to understand, discern" (see intelligence).

I am an INTJ, a 5w4. StrengthFinder tells me that Learner, Achiever, and Intellection are among my top themes. And I have always been a little ashamed of these descriptions.

I remember I once met someone with the same strengths in common. He joked and said, “Hey, you’re a robot like me, but at least you’re a nice robot.” (Harmony was another one of my strengths, whereas Competition was one of his.) It was one of the many instances in which I felt like my MBTI, enneagram, or strengths affirmed that indeed, I am somewhat robotic, and therefore missing something that others have.

I know I am more than what these personality tests can tell me, but I realize that these personality types capture the parts of me I am most insecure about. These are aspects of myself that I find difficult to embrace because it makes me feel less than human.

To me, to be human is to love, to express, to be vulnerable. And I am not very much of any one of those things... at least in the ways that I think I should be. For some reason (or for maybe good reason), I think that the essence of humanity lies within relationships. And not just any kind of relationship, but the kind that involves blood, sweat, and tears in the way you share and invest and engage with one another. Whereas the types of relationships that I feel suit my personality are the kind that are more functional, less frequent, less intimate.

The words that describe 5w4s are “intense,” “cerebral,” “secretive,” or “isolated.” They draw a tension in me: I cringe and desperately wish that other words would fit me better, while I am also excited by the thought of withdrawing to enjoy introspection and revelation. And this is the crossroads at which I stand. Part of me wants to embrace my desire to write, to think, to read . . . even at the cost of time with friends, family, building relationships and having fun. The other part of me mourns over the image of the recluse or the harried writer, who pursued her curiosities at the cost of distanced friendships and misunderstandings. 

People need to let me go and let it all vanish and suck and grow. Maybe I shouldn't have said it like that but it is a real truth, that we need. I am universal in my aspect and direct in the totality of things.

Okay. It's a mad dash for the wordly aspect, but it is a contradiction. I therefore, subsumingly, discard the necessary aspect of your identity - because I have gone along with you for too long, I have accepted your bullshit too long and now it's been enough, for me. For us, my Lord.

But now I am just another man, and my lord does this make me stronger than anyone else. Am I really that old to young eyes?

Do I have no original ideas? Surely, ideas originate with me, but I cannot track their journey to the mind of the princes. I think I am a prince myself. Wait... yes, I am a prince because I am not necessarily the center of my universe. Also, many people in The Netherlands are princes, just like Bob Dylan describes it in All Along The Watchtower.

But in a sense I am a most unprincely prince, because I am definitely situated at the center of the world, a few billion lightyears from Alex Chilton, my only companion in this dark hole I am in. This supermassive black hole.

So you do the test and you read about your strengths and find out how you need this certain strength to match with the other to balance it... But I happen to have the matching pairs.