What does a blind man, a police officer, a cactus flower and the Spanish conquest of South America have in common? More than you might think.

On a recent 14-day trip to Peru with six students from West Virginia University, I experienced a rich mix of culture, history and education. But I also received an unexpected bonus: a subtle lesson in moral thinking.

As human beings, the moral chain of actions, consequences and responsibility links all of us.

The first two components of the equation are unavoidable. In physics, every action has an opposite and equal reaction. In the realm of morality and ethics, every action -- even small ones -- result in consequences. In basic philosophy students are taught that actions are easily controlled, consequences are not.

The third component of the chain -- responsibility -- is where things become complicated. It is essentially voluntary, particularly when we are cognizant of the particular action in question. We open our car door in a crowded parking garage and dent the car next to us. A responsible person should leave a note, but not everyone takes that responsible step. Sometimes our actions result in unintended consequences for which, under most circumstances, we should not be held responsible: A person sneezes in a crowded room and three days later several people catch the cold.

The moral chain is most useful when it reminds us of the interconnected nature between all humans.

While in Peru, I encountered three episodes that illustrated this moral chain; two of the episodes were quite run-of-the-mill, almost mundane. The third is major in terms of historical, cultural and theological implications.

Watching a blind man see

Iam on a busy street in the upscale Miraflores section of Lima with the six students. It is a cosmopolitan setting, complete with busy stores, restaurants, buses, taxis and tourists. Near us, a blind man with a white cane is panhandling -- of all places -- in front of a vision store. This scene is no different from any in the United States, except that in Miraflores as we soon find out panhandling near one of the main business squares is frowned upon by the police.

As the students and I stand at the corner, we notice a Lima police officer on a motorcycle pull up to the curb. He sees the blind man panhandling, stops about 10 feet in front of him, and begins to rev his motorcycle. There are a lot of motorcycles in Miraflores, but the blind man obviously knows this particular "purr" of the law. Hearing it, he slowly begins walking down the street, no doubt to try his luck elsewhere. The police officer watches him for 30 seconds or so, then drives away.

No one else except the six students and me appears to notice this meshing of action and consequence. The responsibility in this episode is mixed. Certainly the police officer was being responsible for his actions. He has a job to do: uphold the law. However the effect this episode had on the students and me was one of awe ... at how an incalculable number of tiny action/consequence scenarios take place every second and collective create our reality.

In the Andes, mind the cactus flowers

We are 12,000 feet up in the Andes. Within a day we will see Machu Picchu, and everyone is naturally excited. We are in the Sacred Valley visiting various Inca ruins. The air is thin this high in the Andes, so our guide, who is an archaeologist and a native of the Andean city of Cusco, stops frequently to allow everyone to catch up. Unlike the crowded, cosmopolitan streets of Miraflores, the Sacred Valley has two groups: tourists and locals. Near the ruins, the locals sell artwork, blankets, clothing, food and other locally produced products.

During one of the rest periods, I am directly behind him our guide. We talk briefly about the ruins as we wait for the others. The guide looks at the stunning vistas of the Andes that are lush green because late December is the rainy season. This is the land of his ancestors who engineered the unique terraced mountainsides that are one of the most visible signatures of the Incan civilization. At one point, the guide looks down.

In the pathway about a foot in front of him is a colorful flower that has broken off a cactus at the edge of the trail. In the gentlest of motions, the guide stoops, picks up the flower and lays it beside the trail where no one will step on it.

Like the blind man and the police officer in Lima, the guide's action could have easily gone unnoticed. The people of Cusco are incredibly proud of their history. The action of picking up this flower was in a sense a way of rescuing it, or perhaps taking action to preserve a piece of the guide's heritage.

Unlike in Lima, I am the only one who witnesses this brief episode. Its simplicity is stunning, so much so that it deserves a balanced action of responsibility on my part to bring it to light and put it into a proper context.

Tear-downs, conquistador-style: Layers upon a strong foundation

Incan structures are nothing short of miraculous in terms of architecture and sheer beauty. Many of them are more than 500 years old and are as close to earthquake-proof as possible. Yet during the time of the Spanish conquistadors an interesting action was common. The Spanish would frequently build their cathedrals directly on top of the Incan structures.

The conquistadors' rationale was twofold: First, the practice was simply sound in terms of architecture: Why build a new foundation when a solid one already exists once the structure on top of it has been eliminated.

The second reason was purely symbolic. Essentially the Spanish were saying: "We are crushing you. You may see part of your buildings, but our cathedrals are now where your structures used to be. Get used to it."

Over and over we witnessed this same stark, visual reminder of dominance. Each cathedral has a beauty of its own, often showcased with gold leaf, marble, stained glass and statues of saints. But always partially visible are the remains of the previous Incan structure almost still attempting to reach up to the sun the Incas worshipped.

No doubt somewhere in Spain perhaps one individual made this decision (or took the action) that began this process of domination. The consequences then began to click into place and eventually took the form of cultural, historical and theological representations. People died during this process, the culture evolved, the history changed, and a different type of religion collided with the existing form.

As with any colonization, the influences of the Spanish in South America have been both positive and negative.

Perhaps this most grand example of the moral chain is the most difficult to affix responsibility since all of the numerous actions and consequences are constantly at play shaping and forging the region's present and future.

And within that interplay, within that sense of reality creation, is the web that connects all of us.