17. The View from Out There

Although the ocean's surface seems at first to be completely homogeneous, after half a month we began to differentiate various seas and even different parts of oceans by their characteristic shades. We were astonished to discover that, during a flight, you have to learn anew not only to look, but also to see.

The minutes, of evening twilight are fabulous. The hull of the station is lit by the golden rays of the Sun. The daylight part of the Earth with its pink clouds and evening haze above the surface is still visible while our spacecraft is already sailing into the blackness of night.

The Sun "truly comes up like thunder," and it sets just as fast. Each sunrise and sunset lasts only a few seconds. But in that time you see at least eight different bands of color come and go, from a brilliant red to the brightest and deepest blue. And you see 16 sunrises and 16 sunsets every day you're in space. No sunrise or sunset is ever the same.

From orbit we observed all the seasons of the year. The launch was in the spring, and we flew throughout the summer and fall and the start of winter. At first the whiteness gave way to the green of summer, and then gold covered the fields and forests, and then the whiteness again.

The Earth reminded us of a Christmas tree ornament hanging in the blackness of space. As we got farther and farther away it diminished in size. Finally it shrank to the size of a marble, the most beautiful marble you can imagine. That beautiful, warm, living object looked so fragile, so delicate, that if you touched it with a finger it would crumble and fall apart. Seeing this has to change a man, has to make a man appreciate the creation of God and the love of God.

There is always a storm happening somewhere. Flashes of lightning sometimes cover up to a fourth of a continent. At first you see this as a natural disturbance, the eruption of splashes as a majestic spectacle. Aboard the spacecraft it's quiet. The peals of thunder cannot be heard, the gusts of wind cannot be felt, and it seems as if everything is calm, simply a play of light. AH of a sudden, against your will, you imagine that the lightning comes not from a natural storm, but from the explosions of bombs. No. This must never occur.

I felt like I was ah alien as I traveled through space. When I got on the Moon, I felt at home. We had mountains on three sides and had the deep canyon to the west, a beautiful spot to camp. I felt as Adam and Eve must have felt when they were standing on the Earth and they realized that they were all alone.

What struck me most was the silence. It was a great silence, unlike any I have encountered on Earth, so vast and deep that I began to hear my own body: my heart beating, my blood vessels pulsing, even the rustle of my muscles moving over each other seemed audible. There were more stars in the sky than I had expected. The sky was deep black, yet at the same time bright with sunlight.

The Earth was small, light blue, and so touchingly alone that our home must be defended like a holy relic. The Earth was absolutely round. I believe I never knew what the word round meant until I saw Earth from space.