Sperm Whales off the Coast of New Zealand
I thought about my state of suspension between two worlds
when I went out in a rubber Zodiac boat to watch sperm
whales off the coast of New Zealand. The whale would rest on
the surface for a while, then breathe deeply a few times,
his exhalations creating a spectacular spout, before lifting
his tail flukes high above the water and plunging a mile
deep to feed on squid. Our guide would mark the spot, go
hunt more whales, and return forty-five minutes later to let
us watch the original sperm whale surface for a gigantic
gulp of fresh air.
To the whale, most of my daily surroundings-mountains,
cities, highways-exist in an "invisible" world, for its eyes
can only take in sights level with the waterline. The whale
has its own lively, congested habitat of marine plants and
sea creatures. Yet unless it surfaces for oxygen once an
hour or so, it dies. Though it knows little about the world
above the sea, it needs vital contact with it simply to
survive. Spiritually, I sometimes feel like that whale,
coming up for air at regular intervals to stay alive, then
disappearing into a much more familiar environment in the
cold and dark below.
Yancey, Philip. Rumours of Another World". Grand Rapids,
Michigan: Zondervan, 2003, p. 187-188.