Mikel Jollett (The Airborne Toxic Event) - SLI Sx/Sp
･ﾟ*✧ 𝓘 𝓌𝒾𝓁𝓁 𝓃𝑜𝓉 𝒶𝒸𝒸𝑒𝓅𝓉 𝒶 𝓁𝒾𝒻𝑒 𝓘 𝒹𝑜 𝓃𝑜𝓉 𝒹𝑒𝓈𝑒𝓇𝓋𝑒 ✧*:･ﾟ
Attachment 7539
a collage I made.
Holy Hunter strikes me as an sx/sp
I may have posted this before.
“My typology is . . . not in any sense to stick labels on people at first sight. It is not a physiognomy and not an anthropological system, but a critical psychology dealing with the organization and delimitation of psychic processes that can be shown to be typical.” —C.G. Jung
"At the end of three days Rezanov had forgotten his cargo, and would have sent the Juno to the bottom for ten minutes alone with Concha. He had been on fire with love of her since the moment of his actual surrender, and he was determined to have her if there were no other recourse but elopement. All his old and intense love of personal freedom had melted out of form in the crucible of his lover's imagination. That he should have doubted for a moment that Concha was the woman for whom his soul had held itself aloof and unshackled was a matter for contemptuous wonder, and the pride he had taken in his keen and swift perceptive faculties suffered an eclipse. Mind and soul and body he was a lover, a union unknown before."
“My typology is . . . not in any sense to stick labels on people at first sight. It is not a physiognomy and not an anthropological system, but a critical psychology dealing with the organization and delimitation of psychic processes that can be shown to be typical.” —C.G. Jung
The city shots strike me more as SO. Other than that, I can see the SX.Originally Posted by msnobody
Maybe this collage would fit Sx/So better... but I'm not sure.
I might be sx/so. I just know I'm sx first. Btw this isnt just a collage for sx/sp, its a collage i made for when i was trying to figure out my enneagram type.
Ah interesting. Yeah, have a look at the Sx/So thread and just Sx/So descriptions in general.
Maybe you can relate to that.
I relate to descriptions of social last, that it feels like it takes great effort to maintaining friendships and making friends etc. But then I dont know how much i relate to sp. I dont think descriptions of the stackings are good, at least the ones ive seen. They portray sx/so like loud and crazy party animals etc. sx/so is contraflow though which means theyre more drawn away from people. Prince was an sx/so and he didnt seem like those descriptions ive seen. ^^
He cared way too much about his image.He's commonly typed as sx/so.
He was Type 4. All Type 4s care about their image. All image types (2, 3, 4) care about their image, that is why they are called that way. Haha!He cared way too much about his image.
It is not just an SO thing.
But okay. Just because many people type him that way, I won't agree. That's just me, then.
It may be a form of arrogance, but I tend to believe most people have no idea how to type instinctual stackings correctly, haha.
I don't really blame them, though. I used to be the same way.
This.
･ﾟ*✧ 𝓘 𝓌𝒾𝓁𝓁 𝓃𝑜𝓉 𝒶𝒸𝒸𝑒𝓅𝓉 𝒶 𝓁𝒾𝒻𝑒 𝓘 𝒹𝑜 𝓃𝑜𝓉 𝒹𝑒𝓈𝑒𝓇𝓋𝑒 ✧*:･ﾟ
Not in the same way though. Prince didnt have that heavy energy that sx/sp and sp/sx has. He wanted to be something big, contribute to the society and leave a mark. That's So.He was Type 4. All Type 4s care about their image. All image types (2, 3, 4) care about their image, that is why they are called that way. Haha!
It is not just an SO thing.
But okay. Just because many people type him that way, I won't agree. That's just me, then.
It may be a form of arrogance, but I tend to believe most people have no idea how to type instinctual stackings correctly, haha.
I don't really blame them, though. I used to be the same way.
"a part of something bigger than yourself"
Also he is a 1 imo.
Ofc this is very subjective and we have no idea what was going on in his head. So this discussion is kind of pointless.
Jonathan Vair: Sx/Sp XNFx something
1436303309.stigmata_resin_k_jonathanvair.jpg1448910591.stigmata_sheol_jonathanvair.jpg
more sp/sx ^
Annabel Lee
It was many and many a year ago,
In a kingdom by the sea,
That a maiden there lived whom you may know
By the name of Annabel Lee;
And this maiden she lived with no other thought
Than to love and be loved by me.
I was a child and she was a child,
In this kingdom by the sea,
But we loved with a love that was more than love—
I and my Annabel Lee—
With a love that the wingèd seraphs of Heaven
Coveted her and me.
And this was the reason that, long ago,
In this kingdom by the sea,
A wind blew out of a cloud, chilling
My beautiful Annabel Lee;
So that her highborn kinsmen came
And bore her away from me,
To shut her up in a sepulchre
In this kingdom by the sea.
The angels, not half so happy in Heaven,
Went envying her and me—
Yes!—that was the reason (as all men know,
In this kingdom by the sea)
That the wind came out of the cloud by night,
Chilling and killing my Annabel Lee.
But our love it was stronger by far than the love
Of those who were older than we—
Of many far wiser than we—
And neither the angels in Heaven above
Nor the demons down under the sea
Can ever dissever my soul from the soul
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;
For the moon never beams, without bringing me dreams
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;
And the stars never rise, but I feel the bright eyes
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;
And so, all the night-tide, I lie down by the side
Of my darling—my darling—my life and my bride,
In her sepulchre there by the sea—
In her tomb by the sounding sea.
"In theory there is no difference between theory and practice. In practice there is." - Yogi Berra
Certainly SO blindspot, though Edgar Allan Poe was Sp/Sx 4w5. That is why I'd say his poems are mostly Sp/Sx as well.
This one is certainly more SX focused, though.
I think of @Lily when I hear this song.
“My typology is . . . not in any sense to stick labels on people at first sight. It is not a physiognomy and not an anthropological system, but a critical psychology dealing with the organization and delimitation of psychic processes that can be shown to be typical.” —C.G. Jung
“My typology is . . . not in any sense to stick labels on people at first sight. It is not a physiognomy and not an anthropological system, but a critical psychology dealing with the organization and delimitation of psychic processes that can be shown to be typical.” —C.G. Jung
This guy gives me the sx/sp feeling. I just recently noticed him but seems he makes a lot of people all tingly. hah
“My typology is . . . not in any sense to stick labels on people at first sight. It is not a physiognomy and not an anthropological system, but a critical psychology dealing with the organization and delimitation of psychic processes that can be shown to be typical.” —C.G. Jung
The Highwayman, by Alfred Noyes
The wind was a torrent of darkness among the gusty trees,
The moon was a ghostly galleon tossed upon cloudy seas,
The road was a ribbon of moonlight over the purple moor,
And the highwayman came riding--
Riding--riding--
The highwayman came riding, up to the old inn-door.
He'd a French cocked-hat on his forehead, a bunch of lace at his chin,
A coat of the claret velvet, and breeches of brown doe-skin;
They fitted with never a wrinkle: his boots were up to the thigh.
And he rode with a jeweled twinkle,
His pistol butts a-twinkle,
His rapier hilt a-twinkle, under the jeweled sky.
Over the cobbles he clattered and clashed in the dark inn-yard,
He tapped with his whip on the shutters, but all was locked and barred;
He whistled a tune to the window, and who should be waiting there
But the landlord's black-eyed daughter,
Bess, the landlord's daughter,
Plaiting a dark red love-knot into her long black hair.
And dark in the dark old inn-yard a stable-wicket creaked
Where Tim the ostler listened; his face was white and peaked;
His eyes were hollows of madness, his hair like moldy hay,
But he loved the landlord's daughter,
The landlord's red-lipped daughter,
Dumb as a dog he listened, and he heard the robber say--
"One kiss, my bonny sweetheart, I'm after a prize tonight,
But I shall be back with the yellow gold before the morning light;
Yet, if they press me sharply, and harry me through the day,
Then look for me by moonlight,
Watch for me by moonlight,
I'll come to thee by moonlight, though hell should bar the way."
He rose upright in the stirrups; he scarce could reach her hand,
But she loosened her hair in the casement. His face burnt like a brand
As the black cascade of perfume came tumbling over his breast;
And he kissed its waves in the moonlight,
(Oh, sweet black waves in the moonlight!)
Then he tugged at his rein in the moonlight, and galloped away to the West.
He did not come in the dawning; he did not come at noon;
And out of the tawny sunset, before the rise of the moon,
When the road was a gypsy's ribbon, looping the purple moor,
A red-coat troop came marching--
Marching--marching--
King George's men came marching, up to the old inn-door.
They said no word to the landlord, they drank his ale instead,
But they gagged his daughter and bound her to the foot of her narrow bed;
Two of them knelt at her casement, with muskets at their side.
There was death at every window;
And hell at one dark window;
For Bess could see, through her casement, the road that he would ride.
They had tied her up to attention, with many a s******ing jest.
They had bound a musket beside her, with the barrel beneath her breast.
"Now keep good watch!" and they kissed her. She heard the doomed man say--
Look for me by moonlight;
Watch for me by moonlight;
I'll come to thee by moonlight, though hell should bar the way!
She twisted her hands behind her; but all the knots held good.
She writhed her hands till her fingers were wet with sweat or blood.
They stretched and strained in the darkness, and the hours crawled by like years,
Till, now, on the stroke of midnight,
Cold, on the stroke of midnight,
The tip of one finger touched it! The trigger at least was hers!
The tip of one finger touched it. She strove no more for the rest.
Up, she stood up to attention, with the muzzle beneath her breast.
She would not risk their hearing; she would not strive again;
For the road lay bare in the moonlight;
Blank and bare in the moonlight;
And the blood of her veins, in the moonlight, throbbed to her love's refrain.
Tlot-tlot; tlot-tlot! Had they heard it? The horse-hoofs ringing clear;
Tlot-tlot, tlot-tlot, in the distance? Were they deaf that they did not hear?
Down the ribbon of moonlight, over the brow of the hill,
The highwayman came riding,
Riding, riding!
The red-coats looked to their priming! She stood up, straight and still!
Tlot-tlot, in the frosty silence! Tlot-tlot, in the echoing night!
Nearer he came and nearer! Her face was like a light!
Her eyes grew wide for a moment; she drew one last deep breath,
Then her finger moved in the moonlight,
Her musket shattered the moonlight,
Shattered her breast in the moonlight and warned him--with her death.
He turned; he spurred to the west; he did not know who stood
Bowed, with her head o'er the musket, drenched with her own red blood.
Not till the dawn he heard it, his face grew gray to hear
How Bess, the landlord's daughter,
The landlord's black-eyed daughter,
Had watched for her love in the moonlight, and died in the darkness there.
Back, he spurred like a madman, shouting a curse to the sky,
With the white road smoking behind him and his rapier brandished high!
Blood-red were his spurs in the golden noon; wine-red was his velvet coat,
When they shot him down on the highway,
Down like a dog on the highway,
And he lay in his blood on the highway, with the bunch of lace at his throat.
And still of a winter's night, they say, when the wind is in the trees,
When the moon is a ghostly galleon tossed upon cloudy seas,
When the road is a ribbon of moonlight over the purple moor,
A highwayman comes riding--
Riding--riding--
A highwayman comes riding, up to the old inn-door.
Over the cobbles he clatters and clangs in the dark inn-yard;
He taps with his whip on the shutters, but all is locked and barred;
He whistles a tune to the window, and who should be waiting there
But the landlord's black-eyed daughter,
Bess, the landlord's daughter,
Plaiting a dark red love-knot into her long black hair
"In theory there is no difference between theory and practice. In practice there is." - Yogi Berra
I've yet to come across a piece of music that better captures the smouldering, lightning-in-a-bottle feel of sx/sp:
“My typology is . . . not in any sense to stick labels on people at first sight. It is not a physiognomy and not an anthropological system, but a critical psychology dealing with the organization and delimitation of psychic processes that can be shown to be typical.” —C.G. Jung
TWO BODIES MERGED DEEPLY & PURELY AS ONE FLESH BY ANTIERA-JESSIBIAH
February 20, 2015
‘Of One Heart’ ~ Beautiful Art by Mark Arian
“I do not know any other way of loving but this, in which there is no I or you, so intimate that your hand upon my chest is my hand, so intimate that when I fall asleep… your eyes close” ~ Pablo Neruda
Probably 9 sx/sp
When it comes to intimate relationships, this subtype can be needy. The merging of the Nine combines with the intensity of the sexual instinct to create a subtype that will always be in danger of losing themselves in a relationship. Their boundaries for themselves and their partner can become blurred which can lead to conflicts. This subtype might have a hard time judging clearly the degree to which they have merged.
“My typology is . . . not in any sense to stick labels on people at first sight. It is not a physiognomy and not an anthropological system, but a critical psychology dealing with the organization and delimitation of psychic processes that can be shown to be typical.” —C.G. Jung
I love that Pablo Neruda quote <3TWO BODIES MERGED DEEPLY & PURELY AS ONE FLESH BY ANTIERA-JESSIBIAH
February 20, 2015
‘Of One Heart’ ~ Beautiful Art by Mark Arian
“I do not know any other way of loving but this, in which there is no I or you, so intimate that your hand upon my chest is my hand, so intimate that when I fall asleep… your eyes close” ~ Pablo Neruda
Probably 9 sx/sp
"In theory there is no difference between theory and practice. In practice there is." - Yogi Berra
Sounds like me with hospice work, literally speaking.
IEI-Ni, DCNH-H, 4w5-9w1-5w4, sx/sp, Aquarius sun, Leo rising
...
"From their lives, and not least from their greatest fault--their inability to communicate--we may understand one of the greatest errors of our civilization, that is, the superstitious belief in verbal statements, the boundless overestimation of instruction by means of words and methods."--C.G. Jung on the introverted irrational types
a 4 sx though would be like "TELL ME all the details, because i subconsciously like getting hurt."
Madhuri Dixit - SEE-Fi sx/sp (7w8? 2w3).
I'm guessing the last scene where the girl is united with the other guy in heaven is supposed to represent that sort of 'distilled' emotionally idealized bond of sx/sp stacking - a love that transcends death.
Last edited by silke; 06-28-2016 at 02:48 AM.
um what
lol
CandidMommy
My 8th house sun placement makes so much sense for sx 4.
An eighth-house sun is constantly driven to engage in relationships and they spend most of their time entangled in them. This can be a painful placement where the eighth-house person gives too much in relationships and ends up feeling used. The sun always wants to shine, and in the eighth house, it wants to shine through deep, intimate relationships. Unfortunately, not everyone is as passionate as them, which can cause a great deal of pain for an eighth-house sun. People are often casual about relationships and eighth-house suns often experience many ups and downs at the hands of these whimsical people. A father who was lost in his own emotion or caused emotional pain is common for the chart holder with this placement, and finding peace with this becomes a life-long quest sought in the chart holder's intimate relationships throughout their life. Yet it always seems there is something lacking. The void seems impossible to fill because the eighth-house person relies on other people to fill it for them through relationships. Although they feel drivento find themselves and shine in this world through other people, they find more inner strength by learning to shine on their own. Healthy relationships are their lifeblood and when the eighth house sun doesn't have to waste energy battling with unhealthy relationships, they have freedom to grow in their own right. The greatest gift for an eighth-house sun person is a deeply committed, soulful relationship that allows them to shine by giving themselves to another person while also learning to grow on their own.
Last edited by maniac; 07-17-2016 at 10:09 AM.
If my husband who I had kids with did something like that I would honestly probably kill myself. Fuck that would suck. I feel her pain.
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