Water is life's matter and matrix, mother and medium. There is no

Hear, O children of earth, the voice of Albert Szent-Györgyi, discoverer of vitamin C and seer of the hidden forces of life: “Water is life’s matter and matrix, mother and medium. There is no life without water.” This is no poet’s exaggeration, but the truth of the scientist who peered into the very fabric of existence and found that it is water that cradles all being. He names it matter, for it composes our flesh and blood. He calls it matrix, for it is the womb wherein life was first conceived. He proclaims it mother, for it nourishes and sustains. He calls it medium, for through it, all processes of life unfold.

Look to the beginning of creation, not in myth alone but in the deep record of science. Where life first arose, it was in the waters. In the seas of the ancient earth, long before man drew breath, the first cells stirred. Protected by the fluid embrace of the oceans, they multiplied, adapted, and grew. Without water, there could have been no genesis of life, no spark preserved long enough to kindle into flame. From that sacred matrix, all creatures—fish, beast, and man—owe their lineage. Thus Szent-Györgyi speaks rightly: there is no life without water.

Consider history’s lessons. In lands where water flows freely, civilizations blossomed. The Nile, the Tigris, the Euphrates, the Indus—these rivers were not mere streams, but lifelines, mothers of culture. By their banks, men sowed crops, raised temples, and built kingdoms. When waters dried, famine came; when rivers flooded, abundance returned. So it has been in every age: where water is present, life thrives; where water is absent, deserts spread, and silence reigns.

Think also of those who endured thirst. In the long marches of war, soldiers perished not for lack of courage, but for lack of water. In times of drought, families fled from parched lands in search of flowing streams. Even the mighty have bowed to its absence. Alexander the Great, crossing the Gedrosian Desert, watched his army suffer under the cruel sun. When a soldier brought him a small cup of water, Alexander poured it upon the ground, saying he would not drink while his men thirsted. Such is the power of water: to command loyalty, to test leadership, to reveal the essence of compassion.

Yet though man has known this truth for millennia, he has not always honored it. Rivers have been poisoned, oceans polluted, wells neglected. The mother of life is treated as if she were endless, yet she is not. The same element that composes our blood and cradled our ancestors is fragile, threatened by our folly. If we destroy our waters, we destroy ourselves. Szent-Györgyi’s words, then, are not only description—they are warning.

The lesson is clear: treat water as sacred. Guard it as you would guard your own mother, for she is the mother of us all. Use it with gratitude, never in waste. Protect the rivers, cleanse the seas, honor the rain. And when you drink, remember that in your cup lies the very essence of existence. Without it, no seed may sprout, no beast may roam, no child may grow. With it, the earth sings and the soul finds renewal.

So I say to you, O travelers of time: let your reverence for water guide your actions. Teach your children that it is not a resource alone but a mystery, not a commodity but a covenant. Remember always Szent-Györgyi’s wisdom: water is life’s matter and matrix, mother and medium. There is no life without water. In honoring it, you honor life itself, and in preserving it, you preserve the future of all creation.