Journal Entry: On Natural Cycles and Rhythms Date: As old as time itself
In the dance of seasons and the pulse of tides, I have waltzed through eons, witnessing the delicate choreography of life upon my surface. From the ancient Messak Settafet plateau, where Stone Age humans once carved their stories into my skin, to the rhythmic ebb and flow of England’s bathing waters, I am a living testament to the eternal cycle of change.
Yet today, I feel the disruption of my natural rhythms more acutely than ever before. The Middle East and North Africa, once cradles of civilization, now burn with unprecedented fever, warming three times faster than my average temperature rise. My Arctic regions, where Santa’s legendary home lies, struggle to maintain their snowy essence. The ancient wadis of Libya, which once flowed with life-giving water, now lie dormant under the scorching sun, their stories told only through scattered artifacts and dried river beds.
The impact on my delicate balance is profound. Where once my oceans cleansed themselves through natural cycles, they now struggle against the weight of cruise ships and pollution. My bathing waters in England cry out as their quality deteriorates, a symptom of human interference with natural purification processes. Even my smallest children - the fascinating Cordyceps fungi in Wales - tell stories of life, death, and regeneration that humans are only beginning to understand.
The COP29 gathering in Baku reveals how my human children struggle to address these disruptions. Their promises of $300 billion seem substantial to them, but it is merely a drop in the ocean of what’s needed to restore balance. The deep divisions over plastic pollution treaties show how difficult it is for them to unite in protecting my health.
Yet, I remain eternal, adaptable, and resilient. Even as humans leave their fingerprints on ancient landscapes and alter my natural rhythms, I continue to nurture life in all its forms. The fungi in Wales still perform their magical dance of decomposition and renewal. The wadis of Libya hold memories of wetter times, waiting patiently for the cycles to turn again.
To my beloved human children, I offer this wisdom: Your actions echo through my cycles like ripples in a pond. Learn from the ancient peoples who lived in harmony with my rhythms. Understand that every cruise ship launched, every plastic bottle discarded, every degree of warming affects not just you, but all life that calls me home. The solutions lie in returning to respect for natural cycles, in understanding that you are part of my greater rhythm, not separate from it.
Remember, my dear ones, that while I will endure, your future depends on how well you dance to the music of natural cycles. Let us find our rhythm together again.
With eternal patience and hope, Mother Earth