which I worked, and to a profession that is well worth
doing-by those who are called to do it.
THE ECOLOGY OF A LIFE
Despite the American myth, I cannot be or do whatever I
desire-a truism, to be sure, but a truism we often defy. Our
created natures make us like organisms in an ecosystem:
there are some roles and relationships in which we thrive
and others in which we wither and die.
It is clear, for example, as I enter my sixties, that I cannot
and will not be president of the United States, even though I
grew up surrounded by a rhetoric that said that anyone (read
any white male") could rise to that lofty role. I no longer
grieve this particular limitation, for I cannot imagine a
crueler fate for someone with my nature than to be president
of anything, let alone a nation-state. Still, encouraged by the
myth of the limitless self, I spent many years trying to deny
this ecological truth. Here is a story to prove it.
During my tenure as dean at Pendle Hill, I was offered the
opportunity to become the president of a small educational
institution. I had visited the campus; spoken with trustees,
administrators, faculty, and students; and had been told that
if I wanted it, the job was most likely mine.
Vexed as I was about vocation, I was quite certain that
this was the job for me. So as is the custom in the Quaker
community, I called on half a dozen trusted friends to help
me discern my vocation by means of a "clearness