How good it is to center down!
To sit quietly and see one's self pass by!
-- Howard Thurman

I had a colleague once who had the uncanny ability of self observation.

Before we worked together he had been a professor of American studies, a historian. I indirectly benefited from his descriptions of our shared circumstance. When I would become frustrated with our inability to adjust to the rapid growth of our enterprise, for example, he would provide a reassuring and flattering perspective. "We are in the moment," he might say, "like 'so and so'was right before the re-enforcements arrived at 'such and such' a battle." He was always kind enough to select an example that had a positive outcome.

I have practiced his type of self observation and found it to be a way to detach from the tensions of the day. When I first began using it I was running a public policy advocacy organization. When I was feeling particularly stressed I would get up from my desk, walk to the corner of the room and imagine I was watching myself at work. This little exercise helped me detach from my self- centered view of the world. It allowed me a moment to float free from my preoccupying tensions.

In our post September 11 world I am finding more need to be a discipled observer of my life. This is not an escape. Rather, for me, it is a prerequisite for being more fully engaged in all the public and private dimensions of my life.

Last week, in the yellow light of a grove of beech trees, I sat down and talked to myself, as a historian might. "There sits Steve Shick," I spoke aloud while the rustling golden leaves, some more yellow than brown, some more green than yellow, applauded in the wind (so much for modesty). "Steve," I said, "has a loving partner and three children who love him. His mother is still alive, well and happy." Before I could say another word a quietness began moving through me. It was as though the wind was lifting my tensions away and I could hear their fleeting footsteps in the dry leaves.

The restlessness that had taken me to that yellow spot among the trees had been stilled. Within a few minutes the wildlife that I had frightened away when I entered the woods returned. Birds of many varieties were followed by chipmunks and squirrels. This common woods had become a sanctuary. I was now on common ground with other less self- mindful creatures who as, Wendell Berry says, ". . .do not taxes their lives with forethought of grief." Now, I was on sacred ground. I took off my shoes and placed them next to me and stayed awhile longer. When I got up, I felt renewed.

"Our spirits refreshed. . . we move back into the traffic of our daily round
With the peace of the Eternal in our step.
How good it is to center down!"
-- Howard Thurman