Of course, it’s all bullshit. The human psyche is much too complex and variable to be reduced to such schemes, even with their inevitable footnotes and epicycles. Calling someone a Healer (or a “caregiver,” for that matter) is about as useful as calling them a Capricorn. Which is why, when I’ve spent my hour with the chakras, I return to the only thing that’s capable of representing, with any kind of cogency or depth, the human soul: literature. There you will find not types but individuals, in all their unpredictable uniqueness, their myriad conflicting acts and motives. No order, no system—just truth.