When I sit at my computer, before I start, I say my prayers, open up, and strike a match to light the candle. To me, this is the sound of space becoming sacred. Creating a sacred space is the first step and, in many ways, the most important step in opening ourselves to the creative process. This is the gift we give to ourselves so that the multitude of gifts we are born to share have their own birthing space. Sacred space marks ours commitment and symbolizes our readiness to serve and be served by the Source itself.
Once I enter wilderness, I am more honest with myself. The lure is less what I can tally or photograph than what I can sense: the quiet, intangible qualities of desert, mountain and forest. Wilderness has been characterized as barren and unproductive; little can be grown in its sand and rock. But the crops of the wilderness have always been its spiritual values -- silence and solitude, a sense of awe and gratitude -- able to be harvested by any traveler who visits. Prayers in the wilderness were like streams in the desert for me -- something unanticipated and unchronicled welling up, and because of that surprise, appreciated all the more. Not until I actually left the wilderness was I conscious what had been the extent of my thirst.