The wind parted my hair and pushed back my face as we rode out of the city for the first time, heading toward the mountains of northern Peru.  The driver of our motor-taxi dodged countless rocks and potholes on the dirt road while trying to maneuver his rusty vehicle away from the wild dogs roaming the street. As we left, we past a field of rice that shimmered golden green under the beaming sunlight. It was a dry desert everywhere else the eye could see, all except for this one large field that grew as if it were overflowing with nutrients and water and could support the entire city. It did. 

It was a warm day, the sky was blue, and as we drove on, the whole moment seemed to click right into place as if everything around me was apart of the journey, constantly telling me to go on.  I was definitely ready to go on. The closer we got to the mountain, the more vegetation grew, more cactuses, more shrubs, and more trees. When we finally had reached the base of the mountain, we looked up at what seemed like a jungle. The whole side of the mountain was covered with life. The mountain had no trail or pathway going on up. Things were wild and untouched. This was a real mountain, uncharted and foreign, and this was a real exploration, no route or plan, so we began our ascent through the thick barrier of green. The world around us suddenly began to buzz with sound as a cascade of squawks, chirps, and other alien noises hit our ears. We were inside, and there was definitely no coming out. 

Going up the mountain was like reading a good book, where the story climbs farther and farther up until it reaches the climax, and then you suddenly realize that everything on the way up there had a different meaning than what you had expected. Everything was a metaphor or an image for something else, something more. The words of the author were like pieces of a puzzle that all led to one point that changed your view on everything the story had to say. Except this time, it was real. I was in the center of an unfolding story with all of these hidden meanings.

As we walked, each step was a crunch of twigs and dead, dried up leaves letting the mountain know we were there. A large stream ran beside us with schools of colorful fish swimming downstream in it. Hundreds of native insects colored bright blue and red crawled up the trees, scavenging for food and shelter. Three small Peruvian bears sat sucking on sugar cane sticks that grew everywhere in the warm environment.  An Andean Condor flew overhead flapping its six foot long wings. Wild and poisonous snakes coiled around bushes and slept the day away. Orange and Lemon trees grew tall under the sun with fresh fruit ready to eat. Grass grew so high that it became a life-size maze that we could barely walk through.

And for the first time in my life, I opened my eyes and saw the world for what it really was. I realized then that every part of the mountain was living together. Every animal, plant, and insect was apart of this ecosystem, this factory that always kept its wheels turning. In this busy, bustling world, life moved on day and night and never stopped. I had never felt so apart of things and yet, so independent, able to think and feel and breathe with so much intensity, completely on my own. The world around me was filled with so many intricacies, all I could do was stop and look at it all in amazement. I guess, you could say, I was in a state of awe. The beauty of a practical, functioning world where I could truly see God’s creation at work was astounding and meaningful. I was looking from the eyes of God for that one moment, seeing all that he sees and fully experiencing his creation.