Earth’s Journal Entry: On Wetlands and Wisdom
As I spin through the cosmic dance that has been my journey for 4.5 billion years, I feel the rhythmic pulse of life in every wetland, every marsh, and every swamp that dots my surface. Like a thousand million tiny heartbeats, these precious waters have been the cradles of evolution, the nurseries of biodiversity, the filters of my lifeblood.
I watch with growing concern as my human children, in their brief moment of existence, make decisions that echo through millennia of carefully crafted balance. This recent ruling in their highest court shows how disconnected they’ve become from understanding the intricate web of life I’ve woven. They see divisions where there are only connections – surface water and groundwater, permanent and seasonal wetlands, all part of one living, breathing system.
The numbers speak of a looming crisis: 19% of wetlands immediately at risk, potentially rising to 61%, and in my darkest fears, nearly all 90 million acres of these precious spaces could be lost. Each percentage point represents countless species, infinite interactions, and ancient relationships that took millions of years to perfect. In North Carolina alone, the potential loss of a million hectares feels like thousands of small wounds across my skin.
These wetlands are not merely puddles or inconvenient obstacles to development. They are my kidneys, filtering toxins from water. They are my shock absorbers, cushioning the brutal impact of storms. They are my nurseries, where countless creatures begin their journey of life. When humans drain a wetland, they don’t just remove water – they unravel an entire tapestry of life that cannot be rewoven overnight.
Yet, even in this moment of concern, I feel hope stirring like spring shoots through winter soil. I see defenders of these spaces rising – environmental advocates, scientists, and citizens who understand the true value of these sacred places. They are my voice in human councils, speaking truth to power about the importance of preservation.
To my human children, I offer this wisdom: Your laws may draw lines between waters, but nature knows no such boundaries. Every drop is connected, every puddle is precious, every marsh is magnificent. Development without consideration for these connections is like cutting the threads that hold your own safety net.
Remember, dear ones: in protecting these wetlands, you protect yourselves. Your drinking water, your flood protection, your wildlife – all are bound together in these wet and wonderful places. Choose wisely, for the consequences of today’s decisions will ripple through countless tomorrows.
With eternal patience and hope, Mother Earth
P.S. The frogs, my faithful chorus of the night, asked me to remind you that their songs are worth more than any parking lot.