My baby, you will be born in a world on fire.

Letter from a future mother to her child.

My baby,
2020, Australia has been facing fires for weeks. Millions of animals have perished. The flames are gigantic and do not seem to be weakening. Australia, where I built part of my identity, was the breeding ground where my heart opened up to the unknown. Someday I will take you.
Fire. Purification of land that can no longer take it that is suffocating. Leave the place, make new skin. Indeed, this is what she needs on our planet.
Elsewhere, water submerges and washes—another drainage of the surpluses that we accumulate in our bodies. Wash with plenty of water. Rinse thoroughly.
You will be born into a drifting world. Hasn’t he always been?
“We must stop multiplying. There are already too many. Let’s stop having children. “What good is it to have children in such an uncertain context, to give them what future? “I hear, I read that kind of thing.
Having a child, by far the highest polluting act.
The question is valid. Perhaps for the first time since humans have existed. Do they ask themselves these same questions in countries at war? What about our great-grandparents when the future was so uncertain? Did they only have the choice and the means to make this decision?
So what do we do? Do we stop giving life?
I will not know how to live in a world of subtraction, where we see departures and newer arrivals.
I could not live in a world where only one side is given to us to live. Death, without giving life.
Life remains through its balance, give and receive. By its polarities, its diversities, its thousand colors.
Light with darkness.
Day by night.
The sun with the moon.
The calm with the storm.
Love with hate.
Birth with death.
A world without a newborn, is it still a world? Is he still alive? Or does he slowly perish – sclerotic, frozen – thinking of saving himself?
So yes, my child, life is as beautiful as cruel, as sweet as it is violent. It does not spare in its path, irrationally and unfairly, those who are crossing it.
My child, you will be born into a world of a thousand hopes and possibilities.
Because I believe that there is everything to imagine, try, create, reinvent. Because I think in these new generations, like those who preceded laying their stones in the building to evolve sometimes to the extreme, of course. Everything is not to be thrown away. Isn’t the stake in tipping the scales?
Balance. Balance. The middle. Correctness. Isn’t that what?
Where can one find justice while preventing life from springing up as it has done so well, so naturally, so magnificently and mysteriously since the beginning of the world?
Can we prevent the bacteria from transforming to develop fins, then arrive on earth with its legs and diversify into a thousand species? Can we stop the man from standing up while he was bent all the time?
Can we stop the dazzling and so mystical meeting of two cells that create existence?
Can we stop the mad rush of your cells from growing inside me?
How many babies have cleared their way despite contraception? How many plants grow in the desert, on the rock, and on the concrete? How many viruses and bacteria resist our destruction?
Life wants to live.
I do not want to exist in a world devoid of these lights of life which come to tell us and form a new world without the conviction of their immense potential to change the course of things.
That would be to underestimate life, to abandon all faith, all hope, all impetus.
To us, the laughter, the joys, the wonders, the projects!
To us, the tears, the disappointments, the frustrations and the disillusions!
The fires and the waves are ours.
Life is ours.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *