It’s hot here in Taiwan.
I keep waiting for it to cool down.
As a creature, I can’t help but notice and react to the disruption in my environment.
A couple weeks ago, I canceled on clients as we headed to the store to stock up on provisions, waiting for Typhoon Krathon to make landfall on the west coast of Taiwan.
The brunt of destruction was absorbed by the southern region of Taiwan, destroying agricultural regions. For us in the north, the typhoon dissipated and was much less destructive than anticipated.
But, my heart was with those suffering greater loss in the Philippines by the same storm. And those enduring the catastrophe on the Atlantic Coast after Hurricane Helene, some with no reprieve before Hurricane Milton arrived.
I think often about hurricanes. Long after the headlines forget about them until the next storm.
I ask: “What is our mother planet telling us? What are we to respond?”
It’s a conversation, but who’s practicing deep, active listening?
Judging by our planet’s behaviors, our human species isn’t settling down when class is in session.
Maybe some of us have eyes on the teacher, but what are we doing to gather our peers into respectful silence? To our left and right we’re seeing our classmates acting a fool. And people are dying.
In class, I was *usually* good at being quiet and listening. Communicating to the teacher with my eyes, “I got you. I’m paying attention.”
But I’ve been the teacher too, voice hoarse from shouting over an unruly classroom. Watching wearily as Skittles get tossed at people’s heads across the room and jokes are flung just as disrespectfully.
Just the thought of standing up in front of that classroom in my 12th year teaching…. sigh, the weariness washes over my body all over again.
I had so much appreciation for the quiet, ready students whose eyes pleaded in earnest solidarity, wanting the disruptions to die down so we could get back to learning.
But you know who I REALLY needed?
That one kid in every class (if I was lucky) who was a loud-mouth knucklehead just like the disruptors. But who cared enough about me, my raspy voice, and our collective learning time to stand up and tell everyone: “Ay! Sit down! Be quiet! Y’all see Ms. Liu trying to talk. Y’all need to pay attention.”
And they would listen.
In these times of mounting climate crisis, genocide, inflation, unrest, uncertainty…
It’s not enough to be a quiet, compliant student anymore. (I still love y’all though.)
Our mother planet’s voice is raspy and she's been screaming for a minute now.
What are we doing with our voice? Do we know what to say? Who to say it to? When and where to speak?
It’s ok if we’re not sure yet, but I want to lovingly yet firmly encourage you to consider how you’re getting ready. How are you moving towards clarity, action, and courage?
Your voice is needed. I hope we can get ready together.
I’ll talk to you all again soon. I have a lot I want to share with you.
Take care of yourselves. You’re so important.
Much love to you, family.
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