John Horgan:

There are moments when I teeter on the edge of belief that nature cares. The occasion may be mundane. I may be raking leaves of a gray fall day, drinking a glass of wine with my wife, Suzie, on our deck at sunset, waiting with my son and daughter at the end of the driveway for the morning school bus to arrive. Gratitude wells up in me as a kind of yearning, as strong as hunger or sexual desire. I want to thank someone, something, for all that I have ...(Yet) a God who deserves thanks for my good fortune, I had to remind myself, also deserves blame for the misery of countless others. Thanking this God for all I have would be obscene. I would be saying, in effect, "Thank you, God, for not screwing me like you've screwed all those other poor bastards.