I am the old Mother. You know me by many names: Gaia, Terra, Jord — something different from each tribe, and I answer to them all. I am the rememberer of all that is and ever was. My lips have breathed life into each living thing. I have been proud of what came from me. I am the creator and keeper of this earth.
I have listened and shared my wealth and wisdom for more ages than man can count in all the lifetimes. All was of balance, and each part knew their place, taking and giving in equal measure. The men began to hunt and were grateful for the game they took. The women gather and learned to plant a bountiful harvest. My heart swelled as I watched them work to maintain a hard-won peace and harmony. It is the abundance that allowed them to grow and evolve.
My mates have been many, but their spirits were not as hearty. I alone have been chosen for this eternal journey. With love, I watch my children, the children of my children, and the children of my children’s children. They are of all species and walk, swim and fly on a variety of legs and bodies. I dearly love what came from me; they are mostly fair and take only what they need and pay what is owed. All showed respect and spoke to me through their chosen spirits. We danced together, learning the lessons to survive as part of many. They cared for the old, the young, and the land, gaining knowledge and celebrating diversity.
My life has been full. My offspring of every species lived in harmony until death. When they return to my bosom, their bodies feed the land. They pass on my seeds and gather together, and from this, tribes and herds were born.
My hope is for lives to be fulfilled when they greet me at the hunting ground. Each season has usefulness, and all life could make homes by their physical demands of weather, water, and sun.
Now I must speak to one species who believe it stands alone. My balance has gone astray. You declared yourself master and have broken my rules to enforced greed. You destroy more than you eat. Killing has become a sport and convenience. You are angered when the original inhabitants feed on your lawn. Many of my beauties have disappeared from the earth at your hand. You have stripped other creatures of their places, making them trophies for misbegotten beliefs. I watch as your insatiable businesses strip away my trees and plunder the wealth beneath the grasslands. My gifts of minerals and ancient fossils have become fuel and sicken the air and soil. Your chemicals destroy plants and insects, which break the cycle of many lives. Anything you find to be inconvenient, you murder. Each member of the earth had a part to play in the perfect cycle, and now most are gone, and others are in danger with their numbers dwindling daily.
You continue to overpopulate with the belief that you are kings – the gods of all. Then you chose to follow the few who ache beyond wealth. I see you ignore the way of the true Spirit. Singing to new deities from often told stories of myth and imagination. The beliefs you share must bow to the true obligation to me, the Mother. I gave all my life forms a door to abundance and beauty beyond measure. You have declared possession of the earth and expect all to bend to your arrogance.
Every moment there are more of you assuming that perfect balance doesn’t exist and you hold no responsibility. The declaration: “Everything isn’t enough!” Greed has taken over your souls. My forests are decimated for misunderstood avarice. Once, not that long ago, you also fed the earth with labor and your bodies. Today the manufactured filth is dumped and flows to my waters. This garbage does not break down and return to the earth in twenty lifetimes. Lands have been paved or stripped, forever changed only for the thought of one day, ignoring eternity. Massive construction on grounds not for you, yet when the buildings slide to the sea, you continue with the lesson unlearned. You risk all for a room with a view.
My memory is greater than you know, and there was a very long time you shared. Now you believe everything must bow to you. I watch the wastelands expand daily, and my beauty, you sell for worthless sums. My body bears your footprint, on my mountains, my frozen perfections, and on my heart.
As a significant and bountiful Spirit, I have preached to deaf ears. I am tired, and if you take no action, this is the end of a fantastic journey. I do not wish to stay longer; I am ready to lie on soft robes and dream for my remaining days, traveling to my slumber, but I choke on plastic debris. Everywhere I place, my eyes is damaged and soiled by a single member of a once-diverse population. You rip the wealth from my bosom for chemicals, plastics, false adornment, and poisoned air.
I grant you have developed a few things I honor. It took thousands of years, but I give credit for kittens and puppies, but you have stripped them of their power to survive without you.
I will not bow to those who falsely believe they are the ruler of all. I am alone, and my blankets grow inviting. My essence is weary; I wish for it to be time to lie down. I want to walk in the other world and watch from the light as you carry on to the inevitable darkness. Though my soul spirit is exhausted, I refuse to quit with sadness on my face. I have but two choices, and I choose to stand up and take charge. I work to make things right. I am Pachamama, Mother of all Nature. I have the power, and it is now up to me to stop your insanity!
You humans will swear at me, but your actions activated the rains and storms, the winds, and fires that chase all from the hills and valleys. Mark my words, disease will rush through your crowded streets, as you have left no space untouched. Your mountains of debris will wash over you as the sea gags it back into your hand. The heat you have produced with your gluttony will accelerate and melt the ice, and with the water, I will wash the land clean and try to awaken you back to balance.
You may blame God, the four horsemen of the apocalypse, or your neighbor. You can blame me, the Mother of all, but it was you that brought this planet to judgment. The secret is, I need your help, and I need it today–right now!