A Mystical Experience from a single dose of Context
what Machu Picchu taught me about a Microwave
Returning to Texas from the enchanting heights of Machu Picchu, my apartment is the mundanity of a corporate office. The reality is stark – withered plants, chaotic traffic, and concrete everywhere. I miss the aliveness that visited me in Peru and whispered in my ear. Where is that?
I had explored Cusco for one week but I wish I had a thousand more to be in the rapture of its ruins.
On a train from Cusco to Machu Picchu, I met Nick, our guide. He was 6’0’’, tall for Peruvian standards causing him to slouch. He wore glasses, slicked his hair to the side, and tucked his shirt in cleanly. This marked his 1,020th trip to Machu Picchu. Nick knew many facts that would breathe life into the stones.
Beneath the brim of a brown fedora, I sat in the rear of the train where the last train car was open air. Outside the train weaved between mountains and a rushing river. At some point I was resting my eyes while listening to the rhythmic pulse of the railway when a freshness entered my nostrils. The mountain ranges were replaced with dense, wet foliage. We entered the rainforest. Machu Picchu whispered in my ear, "I look forward to meeting you."
The train ride ended in Aguascalientes. Two challenges remained: (1) a steep bus ride, along a cliffside inches from the tires, with a driver who drives like he’s an F1 racer. (2) a hike to the top at 8,000 ft of elevation. By the end, I smelled like a feral alpaca.
On the hike, Nick was our perceptive guide, sharing stories and facts that encouraged me to look closer.
He pointed at the stone trail beneath us – rugged, uneven, and disappearing under grass. “This is the Inca’s trail,” he said. “If you hike from Cusco to Machu Picchu, rather than bus, you walk this stoned-laid path for 8 hours.” Eight hours! Mesmerized, I stepped away, following the trail into the mountains. It snaked over the cliffside.
I was left imagining the encounters with the divine to those who walk this path.
As we climbed the final steps before the lookout of Machu Picchu, Nick and the group went silent, except for the huff of one member and his oxygen tank. The anticipation heightened. Reaching the lookout, a perfectly manicured city existed, surrounded by at least a dozen mountain peaks. Everything was lush. We froze in awe.
Machu Picchu spoke so loudly that I momentarily forgot my name and remembered god is kind.
For some, this rapture lasted 20 seconds before iPhones came out. I, however, was absorbed in the lost city. Every place I looked was greeted with a question of wonder. If I were king, where would I put my throne? What happened here under full moons? What kind of beautiful creatures are underground caring for the land? I welcomed this wonder that didn’t exist back in the modern world.
After a few minutes Nick spoke up and described Machu Picchu’s strategic location between the Andes mountains and the Amazon rainforest. “They went to the mountains for maize, potatoes, quinoa. And the jungle for fruits, plant medicines, fish." My ears tuned into a different frequency.
Machu Picchu was suddenly bustling with city life. Incas carried sacks of potatoes. Families roasted meals. And more questions flooded my mind: What was it like to eat a meal with them? Was anyone a picky eater? I only eat my alpaca cooked well-done. Or did they bicker about who didn’t unload the dishwasher? On and on I played in awe.
When my spirit returned to my body, I found myself below, walking the paths of the village. Nick presented what looked like a pile of rocks, until he revealed that the gable of the structures once had thatched roofs. This entire city was roofed. I was awe-struck over a dozen times.
Some ruins, I realized, looked like rocks that a teenager avoiding math homework piled on top of each other. Others breathed life -- they spoke to me, asked me questions, waved a hand to me, “come a little closer.” The difference often was Nick.
Nick was a shaman – a psychopomp into the spiritual world. His pointer finger brought me into a mystical connection with my surroundings. I felt small, full of wonder, and closer to humankind. With a slight change of context, ruins turn into rapture.
***
Days later, back in Texas, I am confronted with a modern day apartment. I wish I had packed Nick into my suitcase like a Jack in the Box. A Nick in a Case. On demand I could unzip my suitcase, Nick would pop out, and narrate the stories behind everyday objects.
“Hey, Nick,” I’d ask while preparing breakfast. “Tell me about this bowl of oats.”
He presses his glasses to his face.
He points out that the seeds were harvested in Minnesota, involving a generational family of farmers. A hundred hands participated in the process to turn the original seeds into this bowl from the truck drivers to the factory workers.
How would one of those farmer’s react if I thanked him for harvesting my breakfast? I wonder.
Nick goes on… “The real magic is in the microwave. It uses a magnetron to excite water molecules in food. The molecules jiggle and crash into each other, generating friction and heat. The turntables inside rotate the water content within the food. Uneven cooking occurs due to varying water content. Set your food inside and watch it cook.”
Gratitude creeps in for everything that got it here – as I hit “Cook”. In rapture. Nick had turned oats into ecstasy.
Objects around my apartment begin to speak. The bananas on my counter still ripe even though they were picked 3 weeks ago from Florida, a state 1,000 miles away. The mechanics of hot water flowing from Lake Travis out of my tap. My resilient plants, breathing oxygen into my space. I become my own perceptive guide.
With a close eye, everyday objects whisper echoes of mystical lands.
Even if that’s bananas whispering, “I traveled so far to meet you. Please eat me.”
- Andrew
Thank you
, , for the Feedback. This would be unpublished if not for your suggestions both tactical and supportive.
Love this. Miss you. ❤️
Such a joy reading your account of this trip to Machu Picchu through your textured, funny and deep writing. Even more in awe of how you linked it to giving back that childlike wonder of all things around, beautiful and memorable!