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By Marivel R. Guzman | Akashma News

The Cry Beneath The Ice

What if the Earth isn’t just reacting to us — what if it’s speaking, guiding, healing itself?

For too long, the conversation around melting glaciers has centered on panic: rising seas, lost habitats, climate refugees. But what if there’s a deeper message encoded in this release of ancient water? What if Earth, in her infinite wisdom, is not dying — but thirsty?

The Natural Rivers Are a Picture of the Past

Once, rivers followed sacred paths. Fed by rainfall, glaciers, and underground aquifers, they meandered through the land like arteries in a living body.

Today, most rivers have been dammed, diverted, buried, or poisoned. Corporate agriculture and industrial water privatization have turned sacred waterways into profit pipelines. Giants like Nestlé extract billions of gallons from aquifers, bottling the blood of the Earth for sale.

As I wrote in 2017: “Carbon taxes are a distraction from the real issue: the mismanagement and commodification of water resources.”

Our focus must shift from carbon credit theatrics to the true crisis—Earth’s dehydration.

The Earth, recognizing the trauma, is responding not in wrath — but in wisdom.

The Great Thirst: Earth’s Response to Human Extraction

In this theory — not yet studied by formal science, but sensed by many — the Earth is intentionally melting glaciers to restore its fractured hydrological balance.

As rivers run dry or are redirected, Earth turns to her frozen reservoirs, unlocking thousands of years of stored purity, not to drown humanity, but to quench her parched crust.

This view positions Earth as a sentient organism, a being not of chaos, but of adaptation. Just as a body increases blood flow to a wound, the planet may be reactivating ancient flows to rehydrate landscapes desiccated by extraction, agriculture, and pollution.

As I once wrote: “The Earth is thirsty, and she is releasing water from the glaciers to revitalize her fractured bones dried by man-made water catastrophes.”

This metaphor is no longer a poetic gesture — it is a warning wrapped in wisdom.

Where the Waters Go: Rivers of the Present and Future

Conventional science warns that glacial melt flows into oceans, disrupting salinity, marine ecosystems, and thermohaline currents. This is valid and well-documented. But it misses another possibility: that not all meltwater is lost to the sea.

In landscapes still connected to ancient hydrological systems — such as the Sierra Nevada, the Canadian Rockies, and the Himalayas — glacial melt can find its way into natural rivers, revitalizing ecosystems still intact.

Moreover, Earth’s crust contains subterranean rivers and aquifers that act like veins. Meltwater may be refilling these channels, much like an IV rehydrating a dying patient.

Whispers from the Waters

Poetic Interlude

I remembered you before you were born,
when your bones were still sand,
and your breath hadn’t yet touched my sky.

I held your reflection in glacial silence,
you sold my tears
in plastic bottles.

But I did not curse you.
I simply melted.

You think I weep from injury.
They are rivers reborn.

You think I weep from injury.
I am not drowning you.

I do not demand your fear.
Only your listening.

Let the stone be soft again.
Let the river write its language into your skin.
Let the mist enter your lungs
and remind you of where you came from.

Earth as Teacher: The Philosophical Turn

If we accept Earth as an intelligent being, the implications are radical.

The melting glaciers are not merely indicators of doom — they are teachings. They show us how life adapts, how wisdom survives even the harshest disruption.

Earth is not asking us to save her. She is showing us how she saves herself.

Our role, then, is not to dominate or “fix” nature, but to listen — and stop draining her lifeblood for profit.

“We must shift our focus from taxing carbon to nurturing our natural water systems, ensuring they remain free and unpolluted.” These words echo louder than ever.

Conclusion: Rivers Remember

The glaciers are weeping — not in sorrow, but in sacrifice. Their tears are nourishment, directed by an ancient knowing.

If humanity dares to listen, we may realize that the greatest climate solution isn’t control, but reverence.

We must let the rivers run wild again. We must protect the last of the natural flows. And above all, we must recognize that the Earth is not a resource — she is a relative, a mother, a healer.

Let us follow the water.
Let us remember the rivers.
Let us return to the source.

A Note from the Author

This piece is more than an article — it is a conversation with the Earth, born from years of observation, meditation, and heartbreak.

I have watched rivers disappear and return only in memory. I have felt the thirst of a planet bled dry by greed, and I’ve listened to the silent wisdom buried in the glaciers. What I’ve written here may challenge conventional science, but it is rooted in something deeper: instinct, reverence, and the belief that Earth is alive, aware, and endlessly resilient.

This is not a warning.
This is an offering.
A prayer.
A reminder that we are not separate from the river —
We are the river.

—
Marivel R. Guzman
Akashma News