INFP Introverts: The 64-Color Box

“Life is like a box of crayons. Most people are the 8-color boxes, but what I’m really looking for is the 64-color box with the sharpener on the back. I fancy myself to be a 64-color box, though I’ve got a few missing. It’s okay, though, because I’ve got some more vibrant colors like periwinkle at my disposal. I have a bit of a problem, though, in that I only seem to meet the 8-color boxes. Does anyone else have that problem? I mean there are so many different colors of life, of feeling, of articulation. So, when I meet someone who’s an 8-color type I’m like, ‘Hey girl, magenta!’ and she’s like, ‘Oh, you mean purple!’ and she goes off on her purple thing, and I’m like, ‘No…I want magenta!’” —John Mayer

The Invitation
By Oriah Mountain Dreamer

I wrote the prose poem, “The Invitation,” one night after returning home from a party. It came in a quiet moment late at night when tiredness stopped my head from censoring the words that flowed from my heart onto the page. I don’t usually attend parties but, on this occasion—berating myself for being antisocial—I made an effort to go and be friendly. I returned home feeling frustrated, dissatisfied with the superficial level of the social interaction at the party. I longed for something else.

Continue reading…

“Cafe Bastille. I strike up a conversation but there seems to be no real interest. Words are spoken but elicit no exchange. I let it drop. The smell of food, the noise of the kitchen, the colors of the bottles in back of the bar, the polished glasses; on the walls, Picasso, Toulouse Latrec—fullness of the senses but not a word of expression. The void in the middle of the feast. Or the appearance of the feast. Communion withheld. I sometimes run into people who have no interest in other people or conversation. I can’t see where they are at, if they are at anything. If you are living in the country, I can understand this. You go down to the creek, take a slow walk, contemplate. But the city is people. If you have no interest in people, you have no interest in anything. Well, maybe art, architecture, music, food. But it is conversation, a dialog, that ties it together, declares its value. So when I run into someone who has no interest in conversation, it seems like I have run into the living dead. They are walking about, doing a job, but they are really in the grave.” —Louis Martin

“The most important things are the hardest things to say. They are the things you get ashamed of, because words diminish them—words shrink things that seemed limitless when they were in your head to no more than living size when they’re brought out. But it’s more than that, isn’t it? The most important things lie too close to wherever your secret heart is buried, like landmarks to a treasure your enemies would love to steal away. And you may make revelations that cost you dearly only to have people look at you in a funny way, not understanding what you’ve said at all, or why you thought it was so important that you almost cried while you were saying it.  That’s the worst, I think. When the secret stays locked within not for want of a teller but for want of an understanding ear.” —Stephen King

“On the whole, people don’t tell you to ‘lighten up’ because they’re concerned for your emotional well-being. They do it because they are uncomfortable with your feelings and because they don’t really want to go where you are.

“Because we all really only know what it’s like inside our own heads, it can take a while to figure out how you are different from other people. It’s taken me a long time to realize that I am, to a larger degree than normal, serious, passionate, imaginative and emotionally intense. Why is this something I’ve been shamed for?”

Continue reading “I Don’t Lighten Up”

“Ever since I was a tiny girl, I’ve been the kind of person who feels joy so intensely that it hurts. I would lie in bed, age 6, and press my hand down on my heart when I was really really happy because it felt like my heart would come out of my chest. When I’ve been in love with someone, that’s what it feels like.

“I wouldn’t trade it for the world.

“If I can’t love someone like that, if I have to ‘tone it down’ in order to get a mate, then obviously love is not for me. Because I can’t. I can’t tone it down. I have the presence of mind to know that that very intensity is really the best thing about me, and if I have a gift to give? It is THAT. And I can’t compartmentalize it - although I have tried that too.”

Continue reading “Me and Salieri”

“I haven’t written for a few days because I wanted, first of all, to think about my diary. It’s an odd idea for someone like me to keep a diary; not only because I have never done so before, but because it seems to me that neither I—nor for that matter anyone else—will be interested in the unbosomings of a thirteen-year-old schoolgirl. Still, what does that matter? I want to write but, more than that, I want to bring out all kinds of things that lie buried deep in my heart.

“There is a saying that ‘paper is more patient than man’; it came back to me on one of my slightly melancholy days, while I sat chin in hand, feeling too bored and limp even to make up my mind whether to go out or stay at home. Yes, there is no doubt that paper is patient and, as I don’t intend to show this carboard-covered notebook bearing the proud name of ‘diary’ to anyone, unless I find a real friend, boy or girl, probably nobody cares. And now I come to the root of the matter, the reason for my starting a diary: it is that I have no such real friend.

“Let me put it more clearly, since no one will believe that a girl of thirteen feels herself quite alone in the world, nor is it so. I have darling parents and a sister of sixteen. I know about thirty people whom one might call friends. I have strings of boy friends, anxious to catch a glimpse of me and who, failing that, peep at me through mirrors in class. I have relationships, aunts and uncles, who are darlings too. A good home. No…I don’t seem to lack anything. But it’s the same with all my friends, just fun and joking, nothing more. We don’t seem to be able to get any closer, that is the root of the trouble.

“Hence, this diary. In order to enhance in my mind’s eye the picture of the friend for whom I have waited so long, I don’t want to set down a series of bald facts in a diary like most people do, but I want this diary itself to be my friend…”

Anne Frank
Saturday, June 20, 1942

“It can be of enormous benefit when one is sitting in the darkness of the soul, feeling isolated, shut out and cut off, to know that there are other people like us in the world; that we are not alone in the universe.”

“Loneliness does not come from having no people about one, but from being unable to communicate to others the things that seem important to oneself, or from holding certain views which others find inadmissible. If a man knows more than others, he becomes lonely.” —Carl Jung

“Emma, in seventh grade, was deeply moved by a television program about the Czechoslovakian struggle for freedom from the U.S.S.R. She lay awake most of the night and the next morning she started, haltingly, to describe to some of the other girls in her class the pain and bewilderment of the Czechoslovakian women. The other girls looked her up and down, raised their eyebrows, and ostentatiously walked away. Emma realized her ‘mistake,’ and the next day she engaged the girls in a spirited conversation about clothes and make-up. They accepted her back…”

Continue reading “The ‘Me’ Behind the Mask”

“I’m sought after and well-liked by the campers; in this particular instance, I’m coming to see that the conversations that I have with them are shallow, brief, and come to no conclusions besides, ‘You’re so funny! Let’s take a picture!’ And, when I try to ask them what’s going on with their group or home life, for the most part I get puzzled looks and quick attempts to back out of the conversation. Sometimes I have a good conversation, but they’re few and far between. I’m plagued with a desire to dig deeper into them but seem to have no way to. Therefore, I’m tempted more and more by the green room, my computer, and my journal; loneliness.”

Continue reading “To Be Young, Gifted, and Lonely”

“I travelled solo to Spain and was staying for one month so I posted a note for a travelling companion. I got a response from a man (gay and perfect!) who could meet up and travel with me. We got along really well but he went to Greece while I had another five days of holiday left. I never thought I would feel disoriented and alone on my first trip to Europe but there I was feeling really blue. I was getting so desperate that I even tried to change my return ticket, but…”

Continue reading “She Deals With Loneliness on the Road”

“Learning to use loneliness rather than avoiding or fearing it can be an important means of increasing personal power. Many gifted adults are lonely because of a lack of true peers. Feeling comfortable with oneself, having a wide variety of interests, knowing that there are some people who value at least parts of themselves, and viewing lonely times as a chance of further self-care and self-exploration, are ways of growing in personal power.”

Continue reading “Can You Hear the Flowers Sing?”

Intelligent conversation is one of life’s pleasures. I love nothing better than to engage in conversation with someone who has ideas to share, different perspectives, and is interesting. An intelligent conversation is food for the brain. All too sadly, not everyone can carry on an intelligent conversation. This has less to do with their intelligence quotient (IQ) than with their emotional quotient (EQ). Only a self-aware, self-confident person with excellent social skills has the ability to engage in intelligent conversation.

Intelligent conversation happens when people come together with a win/win attitude, don’t try to change anyone’s opinion, and are open to new ideas. Intelligent conversation is the bridge to greater understanding. People engage in intelligent conversation for no other reason but to explore, discover, and learn. There is no other agenda.

People who struggle with, or cannot hold, an intelligent conversation come with an agenda. They want to thrust their ideas onto others, get their point across, and will resort to personal attacks if necessary. They come with a win/lose mentality and are not interested in learning and discovering. His or her idea is the only one that matters, and anyone who doesn’t agree is a threat. Intelligent conversation with these types of people is impossible and dangerous.

There are times when we can be in the middle of what we think is an intelligent conversation and discover that we are not. Don’t try to deal rationally with such a person. It won’t work. Their only concern is themselves and their ideas. If they feel threatened in anyway, they will attack. The best thing you can do is remove yourself from the discussion. It is possible to continue the conversation. Just know it won’t be an intelligent one.

Don’t assume everyone wants an intelligent conversation. There are people who are not capable. That doesn’t mean that you won’t be able to converse with them. It just means that the conversation will be shallow and meaningless, which can be all right at times. Not every conversation has to be enlightening.

Source

“A soul connection is a resonance between two people who respond to the essential beauty of each other’s individual natures—behind their facades—and who connect on this deeper level. This kind of mutual recognition provides the catalyst for a potent alchemy. It is a sacred alliance whose purpose is to help both partners discover and realize their deepest potentials. While a heart connection lets us appreciate those we love just as they are, a soul connection opens up a further dimension—seeing and loving them for who they could be and for who we could become under their influence. This means recognizing that we both have an important part to play in helping each other become more fully who we are. A soul connection not only inspires us to expand but also forces us to confront whatever stands in the way of that expansion.” —John Welwood

“David Keirsey proposes the Dolphin as the totem animal for NFs. Dolphins use their powerful and complex sonar system (intuition) to navigate and feel their way through this world. Their sonar is very dependable, but sometimes interference—from both outside and within—plays havoc with their sensors and they receive scrambled signals. Sonar is the dolphin’s life-force. Dolphins are affiliative creatures, and mate for life. Sharks are the dolphin’s natural enemies. But dolphins can take out the sharks by swimming underneath them and knocking them out.”*

“All of this trip reminded me of Kundera’s The Unbearable Lightness of Being—both a great book and a great film (because it is so true to the book). Sometimes, being dark can be too painful for other people. To feel deeply, as the Binoche character in the film version does, is both a boon and a burden. To feel deeply is to have the capacity for both immense joy and immense sorrow. What one learns is that such emotions can be easily manipulated by others, as Binoche’s are by Tomas. What a shame that she didn’t know that, unless a relationship or circumstance makes you thrive, then you shouldn’t bother because, for those who feel deeply, it is a death sentence—or may be. What I had to learn as someone who feels deeply, too, is that being light can indeed be unbearable because it brings with it its opposite great darkness; many want your lights but few want your darks.” —Sadi Ranson-Polizzotti

“True friendship consists not in the multitude of friends, but in their worth and value.” —Ben Jonson

“However rare true love may be, it is less so than true friendship.” —La Rochefoucauld

INFPs are quiet, creative, sensitive and perceptive souls who often strike others as shy, reserved and cool. These folks have a rare capacity for deep caring and commitment—both to the people and causes they idealize. INFPs guide their behavior by a strong inner sense of values, rather than by conventional logic and reason. Forced to cope with this facts-and-figures “real” world we inhabit, INFPs may appear to have been imported from another galaxy! They gravitate toward creative or human service careers which allow them to use their instinctive sense of empathy and remarkable communication skills. Strongly religious, spiritual or philosophical people, INFPs may see the purpose of their lives as an inner journey, quest or personal unfolding. More practical or rational types may tend to discredit the INFP’s sources or understanding as mystical. The search for a soulmate is a preoccupation for many INFPs, who must balance their need for privacy and peace with their yearning for human connection. If there seems to be an air of sadness in the INFP’s spirit, blame it on this type’s longing for the perfect in all things.*

Anne of Green Gables:

“Marilla,” she demanded presently, “Do you think that I shall ever have a bosom friend in Avonlea?”

“A—a what kind of friend?”

“A bosom friend—an intimate friend, you know—a really kindred spirit to whom I can confide my inmost soul. I’ve dreamed of meeting her all my life. I never really supposed I would, but so many of my loveliest dreams have come true all at once that perhaps this one will, too. Do you think it’s possible?”

[…]

“When I lived with Mrs. Thomas, she had a bookcase in her sitting room with glass doors. There weren’t any books in it; Mrs. Thomas kept her best china and her preserves there—when she had any preserves to keep. One of the doors was broken. Mr. Thomas smashed it one night when he was slightly intoxicated. But the other was whole and I used to pretend that my reflection in it was another little girl who lived in it. I called her Katie Maurice, and we were very intimate. I used to talk to her by the hour, especially on Sunday, and tell her everything.

“Katie was the comfort and consolation of my life. We used to pretend that the bookcase was enchanted and that if I only knew the spell I could open the door and step right into the room where Katie Maurice lived, instead of into Mrs. Thomas’ shelves of preserves and china. And then Katie Maurice would have taken me by the hand and led me out into a wonderful place, all flowers and sunshine and fairies, and we would have lived there happy for ever after.

“When I went to live with Mrs. Hammond, it just broke my heart to leave Katie Maurice. She felt it dreadfully, too, I know she did, for she was crying when she kissed me good-bye through the bookcase door. There was no bookcase at Mrs. Hammond’s. But just up the river a little way from the house there was a long green little valley, and the loveliest echo lived there. It echoed back every word you said, even if you didn’t talk a bit loud. So I imagined that it was a little girl called Violetta and we were great friends and I loved her almost as well as I loved Katie Maurice—not quite, but almost, you know.

“The night before I left, I said good-bye to Violetta, and oh, her good-bye came back to me in such sad, sad tones.”

[…]

“I think it’s just as well,” said Marilla drily. “I don’t approve of such goings-on. You seem to half believe your own imaginations. It will be well for you to have a real live friend to put such nonsense out of your head. But don’t let Mrs. Barry hear you talking about your Katie Maurices and your Violettas or she’ll think you tell stories.”

“Oh, I won’t. I couldn’t talk of them to everybody—their memories are too sacred for that. But I thought I’d like to have you know about them. Oh, look, here’s a big bee just tumbled out of an apple blossom. Just think what a lovely place to live—in an apple blossom! Fancy going to sleep in it when the wind was rocking it. If I wasn’t a human girl, I think I’d like to be a bee and live among the flowers.”

“Yesterday you wanted to be a sea gull,” sniffed Marilla. “I think you are very fickle minded. I told you to learn that prayer and not talk. But it seems impossible for you to stop talking if you’ve got anybody that will listen to you.”