Most whale photos you see show whales in this beautiful blue

Hear, O seekers of wonder, the words of Brian Skerry: “Most whale photos you see show whales in this beautiful blue water—it’s almost like space.” This saying, though spoken of photography, resounds like a hymn to mystery, for it reminds us that the oceans, vast and hidden, are kin to the heavens above. Within their depths, as in the starry void, creatures of immense majesty drift in silence, their size and grace evoking awe, their presence humbling the heart of man.

The meaning is profound. To see a whale suspended in endless blue water is to glimpse eternity. The body seems weightless, unbound by gravity, moving with slow power through a realm without boundaries. It is as though the ocean itself were a mirror of the cosmos, and the whale a living star, moving in its quiet orbit. The comparison to space is not poetic fancy but truth: both are domains beyond ordinary reach, both vast beyond imagination, both filled with mysteries that beckon the human spirit toward awe and reverence.

The origin of this vision lies in Skerry’s vocation. As a photographer of the sea, he has witnessed what few ever see with their own eyes: whales in their natural sanctuaries, bathed in light, framed by water as infinite as the sky. For centuries, men feared the sea as a realm of monsters, a place of danger and death. Yet through art and exploration, the ocean has been revealed as a cathedral, filled with creatures not monstrous but magnificent. In calling it “almost like space,” Skerry places the ocean alongside the stars as one of creation’s greatest wonders.

History gives us a tale to illuminate this truth. In the nineteenth century, Charles Darwin sailed upon the HMS Beagle, exploring waters where great whales swam. Though his work was chiefly on the Galápagos, his journey at sea shaped his vision of life’s grandeur. He marveled at the interconnectedness of all living things, as if the ocean itself whispered the secrets of the universe. Just as astronomers study the heavens to understand creation, so Darwin and others studied the sea, and in both realms they found that life and mystery are boundless.

The whale, then, is not only an animal but a symbol. It represents the immensity of the unknown, the beauty of what lies beyond human dominion. Its quiet majesty rebukes human arrogance, reminding us that we are small, and that the earth and its waters hold secrets we cannot control. To compare the whale’s home to space is to remind us that discovery is not only above our heads but also beneath our feet, waiting in the deep blue void of the seas.

The lesson, O listener, is clear: do not lose your sense of wonder. Do not look only to the stars for mystery, for there are oceans within our own world as vast as the galaxies. Approach life with reverence, seeing the beauty in the waters, the skies, the forests, and in every creature that inhabits them. Let the whale teach you humility and awe; let the water remind you that mystery is not far but near, flowing around you as silently as the universe itself.

Therefore, in practice, cultivate vision. Seek out the hidden beauty in what others dismiss as ordinary. If you cannot journey to the sea, learn from its images; if you cannot sail the oceans, step beneath the stars. In every expanse, whether of space or water, you will find reminders of your smallness—and in that smallness, the grandeur of life. For as Skerry teaches, the beauty of the whale is not only in its size, but in the infinite realms it reminds us of: the blue depths of the ocean, and the black depths of the cosmos, each a temple where wonder dwells.