Nothing will make you feel as small as a little time thinking about the sea.
As I write, the fate of the five poor souls aboard the Titan submersible has not yet been confirmed, but the conclusion we can draw is clear. We are clever, we human beings, but, in the grand scheme of things, we are small and procumbent before Nature’s God. The work that is being done by our rescue teams is remarkable, and worthy of our prayers and our applause. And yet each time I refresh my browser for more news of its progress, I am struck by a feeling of profound technological inadequacy. Most of the surface of our planet is covered with an element against which we are helpless. We cannot breathe in it; we cannot see through it; we cannot communicate when it is in the way. If it is warm and calm enough, we can swim along its surface, but, if we sink just a little beneath the waves, it will instantly crush us to death. Our machines pale in comparison to its power and size. At an air show, those enormous P-3 airplanes that are now circling the coast of Newfoundland seem miraculous. Above the vast expanse of the Atlantic, they resemble bluebottles. The search area, which has expanded since Monday, is now twice the size of Connecticut. The vehicle that is being sought is 22 feet long — a little over the size of a giraffe. Moments such as these put the world into perspective.
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