I almost fell off a mountain in Peru and discovered that I still believe in God (kind of)
The first time that I ever really interrogated my belief in a higher power was during the summer of my first year of university. Prior to this, I had attended Catholic schools my entire life and had unquestioningly accepted my membership within the Roman Catholic Church. Nothing had happened that summer to trigger a wave of introspection, but for some reason, my mind kept recalling various red flags that I had previously ignored: such as my mother openly admitting that if the best state schools in East London had been Muslim schools, I would have been raised under Islam; or the feeling of extreme scepticism I had felt as a child when a local priest had tried to convince me that the wafer bread consumed during Holy Communion was the literal flesh of Jesus Christ. I can’t tell you why I had begun questioning my faith that summer, only that by its end I had begun identifying as agnostic.
Agnosticism essentially boils down to the assertion that faith can never replace knowledge, and in the absence of knowledge, all one can accurately say is that they don’t know. Agnosticism is also a spectrum. On one end of that spectrum are agnostics who live with religion in their lives, and on the other end, you will find agnostics who are as good as atheists. I identified as an agnostic that was firmly in the middle. And that’s how I continued to identify until I found myself on the side of a mountain, 8 years later, hiking to Machu Picchu.
Machu Picchu is the name of a site of ancient Inca ruins located in Peru, about 50 miles from the city of Cusco. There are many ways to get there, but most would agree that hiking provides the fuller experience. At the time, I had never been hiking, but I was in fairly good shape, so I felt confident when I selected the Salkantay hiking route – the route recommended for those with moderate-to-good hiking experience. To this day, completing the Salkantay hiking route is one of the greatest and most physically punishing things that I’ve ever done.
It was on the third day of hiking the Salkantay route, when my group was deep in the Cordillera Vilcabamba Mountain range, and the trail had reached over 15,000 feet in elevation, that, in a sense, I found God. My group had already been hiking for several hours, so other than the sounds of our heavy breathing, we walked in silence. We proceeded in single file, along a rocky mountain path that was too narrow to allow any other formation. For some reason, I was in the front, leading the group, and our group’s guide was behind me. I walked with my right hand constantly touching the grey surface of the mountain, as to my left, there was nothing but open air and a long drop down into forest canopy.
I had never been afraid of heights, so although I found this portion of our journey slightly nerve racking, I still walked with a steady confidence; at least, I had done until we reached the point where a section of the trail had fallen away, reducing the path ahead to a little less than 2 ft in width. The guide repeatedly reassured me that the path was still safe to walk along, so I continued without hesitation.
I had almost finished crossing the damaged section of the path when a squawking bird flew dangerously close to my head. Flinching away from the creature, I stumbled slightly but quickly found my balance again. It was then that the guide decided to say: “Ola, be careful. You’re way too big for me to catch you, so if you lose your balance, it’s over.” There was something about the guide’s frank admission that made me realise that I could actually die doing this, and as if to confirm, I looked down into the tress below… and froze.
I’ve always considered myself to be a strong-willed person, and I felt justified in that belief as I had always been able to master myself, even in times of crisis. But there on a rocky mountain path in Peru, for the first time in my life, I felt my will completely fail me. My mind commanded my legs to move but they refused to listen, and then my vision started to darken. My mind screamed with panic, as I felt myself begin to pass out.
What happened next, I struggle to explain, but the simplest way I can put it is that a feeling of clarity suddenly came over me. Without provocation, the idea of something powerful that both consisted and encompassed the universe took shape within my mind, and with it came a strength that felt distinctly foreign but at the same time perfectly natural. The darkness receded from my vision and a calm washed over me, as I effortlessly walked across the remainder of the path.
A short time later, when my hiking group arrived at our designated resting stop, the guide told me that he was sure that I was about to fall, back at the damaged portion of the mountain path. He stated repeatedly that he had seen me wobble. At the time, I had laughed off his words but mentally I was rattled. I had never experienced anything like that before. I tried to rationalise the experience away, as I found the idea that God or some space entity had personally saved me, not only ridiculous, but offensive to anyone who had ever been left to suffer in this world. I shamed myself for being the airplane atheist who prays when the turbulence gets too bad; but try as I might, I couldn’t shake how certain I felt that I had not been alone on that mountain.
If you were to ask me today what my belief system is, I would tell you that I’m mostly agnostic but I also believe in God. My belief in God has nothing to do with religion, in fact I only use the word “God” for simplicities sake. I believe in some kind of universal consciousness that is benevolent. This belief is not rationale, and it isn’t supported by an iota of evidence, so I would never seek to debate its validity. It’s an unexplainable feeling that brings me great comfort, and is just as real to me as anything else in this world.