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.
Leave room in your heart for the Mystery.
Come, let's away to prison:
We two alone will sing like birds in a cage:
When thou dost ask me blessing,
I'll kneel down,
And ask of thee forgiveness:
so we'll live,
and pray, and sing,
and tell old tales, and laugh
at gilded butterflies ...
and take upon us the mystery of things,
as if we were God's spies ...