In the Laboratory of Life – Encounters with Claudio Naranjo, the Enneagram and the Early Years of the SAT Programme

Katrin, when did you first hear about Claudio Naranjo and the SAT programme?

It was in Spain in 1989, when I was taking part in the Hoffman Process. I was only 23 at the time. Someone had passed around a leaflet with Claudio Naranjo’s face on the front. There was something quite striking about him.

But it was still some time before you met him in person…

Yes, another thirteen years. I had just finished my PhD and was planning to go to the United States to continue my studies and pursue an academic career. At the same time, I was helping to run the Hoffman Process in Europe, which, until then, my mother had been managing single-handedly. I felt a strong sense of responsibility towards it, and I wasn’t yet in a position to make the connections that might have opened the door to other approaches to psychology and psychotherapy. It’s important to remember, too, that in those days nobody in the European Hoffman community was talking about the Enneagram or Claudio Naranjo, even though Claudio and Bob Hoffman were very close. You could even say they were friends, and both played a part, in their own way, in shaping the Hoffman Process.

And then, in 2002, as a psychologist with a PhD under your belt, you went back to Spain, this time to meet Claudio Naranjo…

I travelled to the Cantabrian Mountains, to a rather rustic retreat centre that could accommodate 80 or 90 people, with bunk beds. I remember thinking, What on earth am I doing here? I found myself sitting in a huge circle, listening to Claudio Naranjo and discovering the Enneagram. And the more I listened, the more I thought, Wow, wow, wow. What is this? How come it exists, and no one ever told me about it when I was studying and training as a psychotherapist? At university, we studied personality psychology, but very little of it was actually applicable to real life. Here, by contrast, we were having an experience that was both profound and holistic — and, moreover, one that allowed us to put what we were learning into practice.

What was it about meeting Claudio Naranjo that impressed you most?

I don’t know anyone else who can bring together so many different aspects of life and make sense of them as part of a bigger picture — drawing on anthropology, philosophy, music and all sorts of other fields. At times, it was almost overwhelming. But very often, what he said was extraordinarily clear, giving us real insight into how we function as human beings and the direction in which we might develop. In Spain, I met a very wise man who looked a bit like an ageing hippie.

Cherif, you’ve followed some very different paths that have led you to Claudio Naranjo…

Let me go back a little in time. I’m originally Egyptian, but I was born in Paris, so I became a French citizen. I did my military service in Venezuela, where I worked as a maths teacher as part of a development programme. It was there, in 1975, that I met the psychiatrist Rafael Estrada, who specialised in bioenergetics. He ran the Wilhelm Reich Institute in Mexico City and was also deeply involved in research and practice involving psychedelic substances. A few years later, I found myself torn between living in Paris with my mother and Cairo with my father. I decided to go to Mexico, which felt like a kind of neutral ground. I continued learning alongside Rafael. I got married, and my wife, Blanca Rosa, a well-known bodywork therapist, simply took me by the hand one day and said, “Cherif, if you don’t want to be a mathematician any more, why don’t we work together?” It came as real surprise!

And so Cherif left mathematics behind…

Yes, I left it behind. In fact, I only became a mathematician because I simply followed the path that was laid out for me. I was a good student at university and let myself be carried along by the education system, without ever feeling a genuine inner calling. I lived almost entirely in my head, disconnected from my emotions and my body. I was lost, and I was struggling with the absence of my father, who had gone into hiding during the Nasser era in Egypt. So, in Mexico, I continued my bodywork therapy, experimented with psychedelics and later completed a master’s degree in counselling and human development. Little by little, I learned to trust myself and began to develop my own approach to bodywork.

And how did you come to know Claudio Naranjo and his teaching on the Enneagram?

My wife Blanca and I first met Claudio in Munich, Germany, in 1978. At the time, he was going through a profound personal crisis. It was Blanca who recognised in him an exceptional teacher. Claudio was living in Berkeley then. From 1978 onwards, and over the following five years, until 1983, we invited him to Mexico to lead a series of different workshops. At that stage, however, he never mentioned the Enneagram.

Why was that?

Cherif: Claudio felt a real moral responsibility to keep this teaching safe. But then, I think it was in 1983, a book about the Enneagram, written by a group of American Jesuits, was published. A very good Mexican friend gave Claudio a copy, and I can still picture him — he was absolutely furious that something he had guarded so carefully had suddenly been made public. That’s when he decided to start teaching the Enneagram in Mexico, alongside the Gestalt groups, musical listening sessions and meditation groups.

Psychedelics were no longer an option…

Cherif: Claudio Naranjo had a great deal of experience with the therapeutic use of psychedelics. But when they were banned in Mexico and several of our closest friends ended up in prison, psychedelics gradually ceased to be part of our work.

And that was when Claudio Naranjo decided to go to Spain…

Cherif: In 1987, Mexico was in the throes of a serious economic crisis. Claudio decided to move his work to Babia, in southern Andalusia. He was deeply unhappy with the way the Enneagram was being taught in the United States and decided he no longer wanted to work there. At the time, there were perhaps only five or six of us working with him, myself included. My work focused on body awareness — breathwork, massage, movement and dance. That was how the first SAT programmes came about in Spain. They were intense, exhilarating experiences that lasted a whole month. You simply couldn’t do that today.

What were those early programmes in Andalusia actually like?

Cherif: We spent a whole month living together as a community. We cooked together, took care of the place together, and at the same time immersed ourselves in this deep inner work together. The only time we had off to go to the beach was on Sunday afternoon. We’d go down for a swim, then come back and settle in for another whole week of intense — really intense — work on the Enneagram, bodywork, Gestalt therapy, meditation, whatever was on the programme. There were about 30 of us on those first SAT programmes.

And what was it that held you together as a team of therapists?

Cherif: I think, above all, it was our admiration for Claudio. We were like siblings who all looked up to the same father. Of course, there were tensions, arguments and rivalries between us. Claudio was secure enough in himself to let those dynamics play out. He saw our need to assert ourselves — and even our clashes with each other — as an important part of the learning process. And when things got too tense or the arguments became too heated, he knew when to step in and bring things back under control.

How did this whole adventure develop and take shape?

Cherif: It was like a vast living laboratory. If you were to ask me today what I think about what Claudio was propsing, I’d say he created an extraordinary space where music, philosophy, psychology, spirituality and psychedelics could all come together. Quite simply, he had an exceptional mind. But he also had his difficulties when it came to relationships. He didn’t always know how to relate to other people on a personal level, let alone how to deal with a group – and certainly not with such a large group as the one we eventually built around him. I was searchiing for the ideal father, and I had to come to the realisation that Claudio wasn’t that. He was simply a human being, with his own strengths and limitations, and had to accept that my own journey was about learning to let go of the idealised image I had of him, and to love and respect him for who he actually was — without turning him into either a god or a guru. That was a really important step in my own development.

And how did things develop after those early experiences?

Cherif: I first met Claudio Naranjo in 1978, and we remained close right up until his death in 2019 — so, all in all, about forty years. During that time, I worked alongside him in Mexico, Spain, then in Germany and France. Over the years, the work evolved. Claudio adapted the SAT programme according to his own understanding of what was needed at each stage. In that sense, we went through a gradual transformation in the way the SAT was structured and delivered. Developing awareness, keeping an open mind, and learning to express ourselves through the body and our emotions were always at the heart of his approach. And that’s exactly what he invited me to be part of…

And how did he teach the Enneagram?

Cherif: For Claudio — and this was really the crux of his disagreement with the American approach — the Enneagram of personality was a compass, not a way of putting people into boxes. For him, understanding your own personality was something you had to discover from within. The process was supported by biographical work, bodywork, theatre and, above all, your own lived experience. With Claudio’s guidance and the influence of the group, you were encouraged to explore and discover for yourself the deep-seated motivations that shaped your character. The American approach was quite different. It presented the different personality types and often used tests to help you work out which one you were. You could then simply say, “OK, that’s my type. That’s my structure.”

So what was Claudio’s idea, then?

Cherif: Claudio didn’t want to simply tell us who we were or impose a particular way of understanding ourselves. He wanted us to go through an inner process and discover for ourselves the neurotic patterns and structures that shaped our character — and then learn to work with them, with the support of the group. Over time, he introduced different ways of working into the SAT programme. Sometimes the work was individual, sometimes in pairs or threes, and sometimes in small groups. The small group was a bit like a family, while the larger group — whether there were 30 or 100 people — was more like a tribe. Each setting offered a different way of exploring ourselves and relating to others. Claudio was always creating these different kinds of “laboratories” — spaces in which we could experience, explore and gradually transform the limiting patterns of our character.

In your view, what were the essential foundations of those early years of the SAT programme?

Cherif: There was a distinctly Dionysian dimension to Claudio’s work — an invitation to let go, to loosen the mind’s control and reconnect with the body, our emotions and our instinctive side. You did that through movement, dance, breathwork, theatre and other forms of direct experience. For the time, it was a bold, almost crazy approach: stepping beyond the control of the rational mind and exploring what inner freedom might actually mean — while also becoming aware of the things that get in the way of that freedom. There’s another important aspect I’d add. For Claudio, it was very clear that the psychological and the spiritual had to come together. They weren’t two separate paths; they had to be experienced simultaneously, as part of the same journey. I don’t know if that makes sense.

Can you explain what you mean?

Cherif: For Claudio, the ego is a psychological structure. Becoming aware of that structure and aspiring to transform it is part of the psychological work. Spiritual openness, on the other hand, means learning to function beyond that structure. It’s something like asking yourself: “If I step outside my ego, then who am I?” That opens up a whole different experience to explore.

Psychedelics can make it quite easy to step outside the ego — to experience yourself beyond your usual sense of identity and the structures that normally define you. But how do you access that same state without psychedelics?

Cherif: That’s the real challenge. And you do it through movement, breathwork, dance, theatre and meditation — by letting go of the mind’s control.

And what about you Katrin? What did you do with your enthusiasm for Claudio Naranjo’s teachings?

Katrin: Well, after doing the first SAT module in Spain, I was spellbound. I went on to do all the modules up to Module 4, and then I went to the United States, where I studied existential psychotherapy at Stanford University. I also had some contact with Claudio while I was there, although he was travelling a lot at the time. Anyway, our paths did cross. I remember seeing him at a conference in Santa Monica. He was particularly upset by the ways the Enneagram was being used without his knowledge or against his wishes — including with children and teenagers.

And was that what led you to bring his teachings into your own work?

Katrin: Hang on a minute. It wasn’t really something that was planned. At the time, there were really two different paths unfolding in my life. Personally, I was deeply engaged with what I was discovering through Claudio and the SAT. But professionally, I was still very much on my established path as a young psychotherapist. I continued working with the Hoffman Process alongside my mother, as her co-facilitator, and I began training people myself. At the same time, I was still pursuing my academic career and was determined to complete my postdoctoral qualification. So I’d done SAT Modules 1 to 4 in Spain, then gone to the United States, and I thought, “Right, that’s it. I’m done. Great.” Until, six months later, I received an email from Claudio…

What was it about?

Katrin: He’d been invited to speak at an educational conference at the Odenwald Institute. This was in 2006. Claudio was almost an activist when it came to education and teaching practice. The people in charge at the Odenwald Institute then decided to organise the first SAT programme in Germany. And Claudio simply wrote to me: “Come.” Come? I had no idea why he was asking me, or even where I was supposed to go. But that was so typical of him — creating structure out of complete uncertainty. Of course, Katrin went. I became his translator and, for the next three or four years, effectively his German voice.

How did things develop from there?

Katrin: There were several SAT programmes at the Odenwald Institute between 2006 and 2009, and I really came into my own during that time. Claudio was over the moon to be welcomed in Germany. Until then, he’d always thought that Germans didn’t like him. He threw himself into the work wholeheartedly. People were even travelling from as far afield as Australia, Italy and Brazil to take part. That continued until the Odenwald Institute was no longer able to host the SAT programme. By then, the ball was already rolling… and I caught it. I brought this new mission into our nstitute and made it part of our work there.

A happy coincidence?

Well, something was calling, and I decided to seize the opportunity.

So what did you do with the ball?

Katrin: I knew the SAT programme couldn’t simply disappear from Germany. But I also knew I couldn’t take it on by myself, on top of running the Hoffman Institute. So I called ZIST, the retreat centre in Bavaria founded by Wolf Büntig. A few hours later, Wolf Büntig called me back and simply said, “Hello, this is Wolf Büntig — and I want Claudio Naranjo to come here!”

And that’s exactly what happened…

Katrin: Claudio went there every year… He even had his own little flat there. So, from 2011 onwards, the Institute organised most of the events — in Germany, together with ZIST, as well as the ones in France. Before that, in 2010, there had been a huge event in Todtmoos, with 200 people attending. Claudio introduced the Enneagram of personality to people who were not yet familiar with it. After that, we went on to organise several large events, the last of which took place in Oldenburg in 2018.

And when did you start teaching?

Katrin: Gradually, over time. I was waiting for Claudio to give me the go-ahead, but I could have been waiting forever. I sometimes I felt as though he didn’t trust me at all. No one ever said to me, “Right, now you’re going to do this and that — and you’re ready for it.” But, as I said, I just worked with that and gradually found my own way forward.

Cherif, can you tell us about when you first met Katrin?

Cherif: It was at one of the first SAT programmes in Germany, in 2008, at the Odenwald Institute, as it happens. I was part of the team, and she was translating from English and French into German. There was a kind of attraction between us from the very beginning. But she was in a relationship, and I was still married. So nothing actually happened, apart from the feeling that something was happening!

How did the two of you come to join forces in this work?

Cherif: When Katrin decided to launch the SAT programme at ZIST with Claudio’s support, everything pointed towards the SAT programme and Claudio’s approach gaining increasing recognition in Germany. Looking after Claudio and being there for him and for the work became a shared responsibility for both of us. We also realised that we were using the same method for biographical work – she through the Hoffman Process, and I through Claudio’s approach. That gave us even more in common. And since we were too old to have children of our own, we simply made the SAT programme our child.

Cherif, where do you see the SAT programme in ten years’ time?

Cherif: I think one of the strengths of the SAT programme is that it’s a collective endeauvour, where people actually meet in person. That’s a challenge these days, because for many people it’s difficult to take even eight days off to do something like this. But what we need as human beings, rather than confining ourselves to virtual spaces, is to be physically present with one another and to share our emotions openly and honestly. That’s where the strength of the SAT lies: in coming together, in physical contact, in looking one another in the eye… All of that is essential today, and I think it will be even more important in ten years’ time. We need to be able to honour, as human beings, this fundamental need to belong. There’s something so beautiful about learning to live together in an environment where love and tolerance for our differences are put to the test. It’s wonderful!

Did Claudio pass anything on to you towards the end of his life?

Katrin: It’s a bit of a mixed bag. Of course, we all benefited from his experience and intuition, and those things continue to inform our work. But he also had a tendency to stir up rivalry, and there was a slightly paranoid side to him. Just after the last big international seminar near Oldenburg, which Cherif and I organised with the Institute, Claudio called us and said, “Promise me you’ll continue this work.” It felt like a real mission, and a huge vote of confidence. But not long afterwards, he accused us of having misappropriated money, which was completely absurd. He was already very unwell by then, and was subject to all sorts of influences that led to this kind of ambivalence.

And what are you doing with that mission today?

Katrin: The SAT programme is now being offered all over the world, particularly in Latin America, Italy, Spain, Germany, France and Russia. There have also been attempts to establish it in the UK and the United States. But because Claudio always taught with us in English, SAT France-Germany became a kind of gateway to the English-speaking world. More recently, we ran an introduction to the SAT programme in Bulgaria, and we’re planning to do the same in Egypt soon — which is particularly exciting for Cherif! There’s a huge amount of intensive work going on everywhere, even though there still isn’t much structure to the collaboration between the different SAT institutes. Claudio was never particularly keen on structures. Everything evolved informally around him. What he expected from the people he worked with was loyalty and recognition of his authority — but structures? Never!

How do you think he himself would have envisaged the future of the SAT programme?

Katrin: If you’d asked him, he would have said that the work would continue because the seeds had already been sown, and that the people carrying on the work would keep it alive and allow it to evolve. His vision lives on through the people who know Claudio’s work inside out. They’re also travelling to different countries to train others. There still isn’t a standardised training programme, and we’re trying to create an international structure that keeps alive the spirit Claudio brought to the work.

What gives you the strength to stay true to this vision and keep spreading it around the world?

Katrin: What I’ve realised is that this is a mission that really suits me. The SAT is, above all, an open space where so many different things can come together, where so much of what it means to be human can be explored. And I feel that, if I don’t take charge of it, no one else is going to do it here, at least for now. My mission is to bring people together around this work and connect them with one another.

Why is the SAT programme needed today, in these difficult, crazy and confusing times?

Cherif: It is a social project. We work on an ethical basis. Financially, our project is not doing well enough. But we have to do it. The seeds we are sowing will, we hope, bear fruit on the social level. And we know that Claudio Naranjo shared this vision. I’d add that this social dimension would have appealed to my father, the Arab freedom fighter, who was always wondering what on earth his son Cherif was up to!

Katrin: By working on our personality, on our deeper inner structure, on our conditioning, and on the way we think, act and feel, we create the freedom we need to take different paths — not only in our personal lives, but collectively as well. We need spaces where people can come together and learn how to relate to one another as human beings. That may sound a little grandiose, but that’s what the SAT is.