Not only have I made films about the subject, but I've largely

Hear, O guardians of the earth, the words of Greg MacGillivray, who declared with devotion: “Not only have I made films about the subject, but I've largely funded them on my own, so I'm fully committed to doing whatever I can to change the audience's respect and appreciation for the ocean. In 100 years I want whales, dolphins and sharks to still be around, and the ocean to be a healthier place.” In this utterance we hear the cry of a man who has pledged his art, his wealth, and his life to a cause greater than himself—the protection of the ocean and the preservation of the living creatures who dwell within its depths.

The meaning of his words is luminous and urgent. He reminds us that true commitment to a cause is not spoken in idle declarations but proven in sacrifice. By investing his own treasure into films that honor the sea, MacGillivray shows that respect for the whales, dolphins, and sharks cannot be bought cheaply, nor should their survival be left to the mercy of chance. He speaks with the long vision of one who thinks not only of his own years, but of the centuries to come, when children yet unborn may know the ocean not as a graveyard, but as a place of abundance and wonder.

Consider, my children, the tale of Jacques Cousteau, the great explorer of the seas. With camera and vessel he brought to the world the first visions of coral gardens, of dolphins at play, of whales singing in the deeps. Through his films, people who would never touch the ocean came to love it, and in that love, to protect it. MacGillivray follows in this tradition: using the power of story and image to awaken awe, to change the hearts of audiences, and to call them into stewardship. Just as Cousteau made the ocean visible to the eyes of the world, so MacGillivray seeks to make its plight visible to the conscience of humanity.

The origin of his words lies not in idle fancy but in the sobering truth of our time. The seas are poisoned with plastic, overfished until their giants are scarce, and warmed until their corals bleach white as bone. To speak of a future where whales, dolphins, and sharks still roam freely is to stand against the tide of destruction. His vision is not naïve—it is heroic, for it acknowledges the peril and yet refuses despair. By funding his films, he wields the tools of art and education as weapons in a battle for life itself.

Yet let us not mistake his mission as one belonging only to artists or sailors. No—this call belongs to every soul who drinks water, breathes air, and eats food drawn from the bounty of the seas. The ocean is not distant, it is the cradle of life itself. Its currents shape the weather, its creatures balance the chains of life, its health sustains the health of the whole earth. To let the seas die is to let humanity itself wither. Thus, MacGillivray’s plea is not simply for the dolphins or the whales—it is for us, and for the children of our children.

The lesson is radiant: if you wish to honor the earth, begin by honoring the ocean. Protect its creatures not as curiosities, but as kin. Learn from the dedication of MacGillivray that passion without sacrifice is empty. True commitment requires that we invest not only our words, but our resources, our creativity, our labor. Each of us may not fund films, but each of us can live with respect—reducing waste, guarding waters, supporting causes that defend the sea.

Practical actions lie plainly before us: shun the plastic that chokes the waves, eat with wisdom that does not deplete the fish, and give to the efforts that preserve coral reefs and safeguard marine life. Teach your children the names of whales and dolphins, not only from books but from stories that stir their hearts, so that love for the ocean flows through generations. Let your daily choices honor the truth that without the sea, there is no life upon the land.

Thus, O heirs of tomorrow, remember MacGillivray’s words. Commitment to the ocean is commitment to life. Live in such a way that in one hundred years, when the waves still echo with the songs of whales and the leaps of dolphins, your descendants may say: “They did not abandon us. They remembered the ocean, and so we live.” Protect the sea, and the sea shall protect you.