Biodiversity starts in the distant past and it points toward the

“Biodiversity starts in the distant past and it points toward the future.” – Frans Lanting

Listen, O child of the Earth, to these words of quiet power spoken by Frans Lanting, the great chronicler of life’s infinite forms. In this saying, he does not speak as a mere photographer or scientist, but as a guardian of memory and prophecy. When he declares that “Biodiversity starts in the distant past and it points toward the future,” he calls us to remember that all life is a single, unbroken story—a vast chain of being that stretches from the first stirring of the oceans to the unborn generations yet to walk upon this Earth. It is a truth both humbling and divine: that every creature, every blade of grass, every heartbeat is a continuation of the sacred song begun billions of years ago.

To say that biodiversity begins in the past is to remember the long and fragile journey of existence. From the fire of the stars came the dust that formed the planets, and from that dust, the first cells breathed, multiplied, and learned to love the light. Through ages of storm and ice, of extinctions and rebirth, life did not give up. The forests arose, the seas teemed, and the air filled with wings and song. Each species that now lives—each fish, bird, beast, and human—is not an isolated miracle, but the latest verse in an eternal poem. We are all, as Lanting reminds us, children of the distant past, carrying within our very bones the history of the Earth itself.

Yet, biodiversity points toward the future, for the web of life does not end with us—it depends upon us. The decisions made in this age will echo into centuries unknown. If the forests fall and the oceans die, then not only do we lose beauty—we sever the lineage of creation. The story ends before its next chapter can be written. But if we protect the balance of life, if we nurture what has been given, then we become co-authors of the Earth’s next act. Thus, in Lanting’s words lies both reverence and warning: the future of life depends on whether we honor the past that birthed it.

Consider the lesson of the Great Barrier Reef, that living cathedral beneath the waves. For thousands of years, it has stood as a monument to life’s creativity—a vibrant city of coral, fish, and light. Yet in mere decades, warming seas have bleached its colors and silenced its songs. Scientists and divers weep to see the death of something that took millennia to form. The reef, born of the ancient past, now trembles on the edge of oblivion. It is a living parable of Lanting’s truth: what began long ago points toward the future we are shaping today, for good or for ruin.

The ancients understood this interdependence well. The Indigenous peoples of the Americas taught that all living things are relatives, bound together in a sacred circle. They saw no divide between humanity and nature; to harm one was to harm all. When they hunted, they thanked the spirit of the animal; when they planted, they gave back to the soil. Their wisdom echoes Lanting’s modern revelation: that the future is a reflection of the past, and that survival depends not on dominance, but on harmony. They lived by this truth long before the word “biodiversity” was born, for they knew that life itself is a covenant handed down through generations.

O listener, take this teaching into your heart: you are not separate from the chain of being—you are a link within it. The biodiversity of this planet is not a luxury, but the foundation of your breath, your food, your spirit. To protect it is to honor your ancestors and to safeguard your descendants. Plant a tree, preserve a river, speak for the voiceless creatures who share your world. In doing so, you fulfill the ancient promise of life—that what was born from the stars may continue to shine upon the Earth.

Thus, the lesson of Frans Lanting’s words is both simple and profound: the past gives us our roots, and the future gives us our purpose. Let us not forget the countless lives that struggled before us, nor neglect the countless yet to come. For the story of biodiversity is the story of us all—endless, fragile, magnificent. And if we live wisely, with reverence for creation, then the tale of life will not end with us, but will continue to point toward the future, bright and everlasting, as it has since the dawn of time.