Blog

10:00 pm: We were alone in a rainforest with no way out.

The Journey Begins…

The journey began six hours earlier with my colleagues and fast friends Jaymie and Susan, who attended the United Nations Peace and Happiness Summit with me. Their friendship and Susan’s desire to see a sloth in the wild had coaxed me into a nighttime excursion to one of Costa Rica’s amazing rainforests. Susan believed you should put yourself in the way of “awe” daily. Although I struggled with her interpretation of awe, I appreciated her conviction. Awe always seemed so personal, and experiencing awe was typically found at the intersection of happenstance and serendipity. I never thought about putting myself in the way of awe, although I was open to reconciling with the fact that you could seek out and find awe.

We hailed an Uber outside of San Jose with a driver who spoke no English and whose car had no gas. We spent the first thirty minutes of our journey searching for an ever-elusive gas station, and the Friday afternoon work traffic doubled our travel time from two to four hours. The plan had been to grab a bite once we arrived at the rainforest; however, the previously planned repast was reduced to a protein bar I found in my rain jacket pocket. I happily divided the bar between my compadres as our desire for adventure surpassed our momentary hunger pangs.

The last 45 minutes of our Uber ride were spent anxiously circling to the top of Monteverde, where the rainforest met the clouds. As I gladly climbed out of the Uber, I tried to recall the last time I intentionally entered a forest at night. I am primarily deterred from such ventures due to the commonality in the slasher movies of my childhood. The idea of working on my people-pleasing issues crossed my mind as I forged ahead toward the darkened rainforest. My internal arguments were broken by the guide’s directions to “stick close” as we were handed flashlights.

The Descent into Darkness

When we entered the rainforest a little past 8:00 pm, we were greeted by the sight of an ocelot, one of the smaller cat-like species indigenous to Costa Rica. By the time we had snaked our way through the first arboraceous paths, we had seen a small neon green viper, a unicorn lizard, and varied exotic bird species. The guide would illuminate any animals not within a few feet of our vision and allow glances through a scope for creatures further away. Even at night, the exotic colors of the toucan were brilliant. The clouds swept through the forest, bringing moments of pouring rain which ceased as quickly as it came. Peering upward through the thick canopy, one could see intense incandescent starlight, which the dense rain-infused clouds would overtake. “How majestic,” I whispered, not wanting to break the ethereal trance of the moment. Jaymie responded with a perplexed look and quipped, “What is majestic”? Jaymie had a way of challenging my thoughts in kindly ways, and this dive into defining majestic was no different. How do I define a word that is so aligned with a feeling or automatic response? “Majestic is a fresh mountain snowstorm or a Hawaiian sunset. It is a breathtaking vista, an expansive desert that stretches into eternity.” I thought of those analogies well after our trip ended, but at the moment, I stammered through an inadequate response of “It’s majestic.”

What happened next was the stuff of which awe is made. Our guide, who had been somewhat quiet and reserved up to that point, became very excited, having spotted something of great interest in the trees on the near horizon: a mother sloth and her baby. Susan melted and became one big smile. I couldn’t see my hand in front of my face, but I could see her smile from 30 feet away. The sloth and her baby were approximately 50 feet off our trail and easily seen with the guide’s spotlights. We watched the irregularly slow movements of the sloths through the rain-soaked canopy as they moved through their tree out of sight. While sloths are also fascinating to me, the shared experience deepened the impact of the moment. Awe experiences are contagious.

The rainforest suddenly opened to reveal the small, dimly lit shack from whence we began. Five groups of three to five rained-soaked, awe-inspired explorers emerged soon afterward from the darkness with their guides. Within 15 minutes, every guide and guest quickly slipped into their vehicles and disappeared beyond the steep mountain drop at the end of the gravel trail. We were left alone on the dark mountain, our Uber apps still searching for a ride. I quipped, “I’m pretty sure this is how stories surrounding organ harvesting begin.” Their smiles and gratuitous laughs demonstrated a naivete towards slasher films.

No Way Out

For about 20 minutes, we were without a signal, phone, guide, or hope. While I frantically figured out how long it would take us to walk down a mountain pass that took 45 minutes to drive, I heard loud rustling noises approaching from the far side of the shack. The noise was disconcerting, considering the inordinate number of unknown species in the forest. We were relieved when two guides, left to clean the water-logged equipment, rounded the corner of the shack. One of the affable guides told us there were no Ubers on the mountain at night and was kind enough to connect us to a friend who owned a taxi. When the taxi arrived, we quickly negotiated a price (as if we had any choice) and loaded up for the long ride back to San Jose.

Our driver taxied down the dirt path before launching down the mountain like an F18 fighter jet from an aircraft carrier. Our bodies rose from the seats, pulling the lap belts tight. At this point, we were not wearing our lap belts; our lap belts were wearing us. At one point, sure we were breaking the sound barrier, I glanced at the speedometer, but it was only registering 90 mph. Jamie’s head, directly in front of me, danced around like a video being played in fast-forward. The abrupt movements that tossed us side-to-side and the exhaust fumes paired for a perfect mixture for immediate car sickness affecting all passengers. Susan’s slight smile and fixed gaze intimated that she might not return to San Jose with the meager stomach contents intact. What took us four hours to cover from San Jose to Monteverde in Friday work traffic at regular speeds was cut to two and a half hours on our return trip. I saw awe, majesty, and much of my life pass before my eyes on the journey home.

Rest for the Inspired

Once I showered and found myself safely in my bed, my mind wandered over the longest day of my year. With a tired body, an empty stomach, and a full mind, I spent much of the night reliving the day’s events, still lost in the conundrum of awe and the confusion of majesty. It was only weeks later that I was able to understand.

Awe and majesty are not two separate ideas; they are intertwined. Awe is the lens through which we see majesty. Awe illuminates majesty to inspire worship. Awe and majesty challenge us at the moment they collide, leaving us stumbling for earthly words to describe heavenly concepts. Only through further contemplation can our brains understand what our souls instinctively know: awe and majesty reveal God to human eyes.

Having finally reached this conclusion, my soul was at rest, and I could look back on our rainforest adventure with fondness and maybe even awe!