We sit silently and watch the world around us. This has taken us a lifetime to learn. It seems the old are more able to sit next to one another and not say anything and still feel content. The young are more impatient and usually break the silence. It is a waste; for silence is pure. Silence is holy. It draws people together because only those who are comfortable with each other can sit without speaking. This is a great paradox.
What I find distinct about gratitude in the wilderness is its simplicity -- the thankfulness I feel here is for what I usually take for granted: my capacity to breathe, move and see ... For the most part, gratitude here wells up unexpectedly, in the quiet corners of the day, over events small and ordinary. Gratitude is the other side of dependence on God: to take anything for granted in the wilderness seems presumptuous, blasphemous. And so, here in these naves of vaulting stone, prayers of thanksgiving begin to edge out prayers of petition.