Braver Climate Conversations
Opening to alternative forms of communication to strengthen speech
Yesterday morning I sat at my desk and tried to hide my tears from my coworkers. My seat is located centrally in the office, so I can hear other conversations when my coworkers’ doors are open. And yesterday morning, I heard my them struggle to communicate the pain and fear from Hurricane Ian’s impact.
This latest news-worthy natural disaster forces the lurking, taboo topic of Climate to surface into daily conversations once more.
When I hear or participate in Climate conversations, they follow similar patterns. The sentences are short, and they trail off. The speakers’ eyes veer in different directions— anywhere but straight ahead. Umbrella terms like “sad” are used, and umbrella phrases like “this is where things are going in the future” are spoken, and then there’s nowhere to go from there because going any further would take the speakers off a cliff. Where words end, we’re left with pain and fear—an apocalyptic fear that no one is comfortable addressing, and no one knows how to navigate.
As I walked down the hallway to the restroom for a reset, I realized that I wasn’t crying about Climate or the end of the world this time. I cried because the saddest part of the conversation was its inability to fully communicate and therefore gain closure and, more importantly, support from one another.
My Communication Self-Education
I’ve fixated on communication for the past year because I’ve convinced myself that I’m not good at it. I tell people that “I’m a writer, not a talker,” as a placeholder to explain, somewhat apologize, and provide a bit of humor while I buy time to work on perfecting myself. It’s my verbal equivalent of a precisely packaged Andes mint.
(Digression: Drive My Car is one of my favorite films because it gives the characters forgiveness for not being able to communicate as they would like their ideal selves to. Especially when I’m emotionally charged, I default to responding to the words spoken rather than the intent communicated.)
I’m hard on myself to improve my communication in order to live fuller and to better learn from and and enjoy others whom I connect with. However, as I read books and listen to podcasts on the subject, I’m learning two things:
“My” communicative issue is not mine alone. My struggle to express myself in the way that I intend is shared with the majority of people around me——but I can’t quite say that it’s shared, because the ironic nature of this communicative issue is that we struggle to share. So, to quote one of my favorite albums, “We’re All Alone in This Together.”
Moreover, I’m learning that verbal language might not offer more than an Andes mint by way of getting ourselves expressed to one another. We place disproportionate weight on verbal communication. We rely on verbal communication even more than we rely on our phones to tell us what to do with our time, on our GPS’s to tell us how to get where we want to go, or on Google to answer our existential questions.
Speech simply isn’t enough to satisfy our complex needs, but our reliance on verbal communication makes sense. It’s taught to us and stressed over by our parents during our formative years, and the speed of the spoken word pairs well with our fast-moving Western world. Its study is easily accessible—you can go to any college, become an expert, and make a living in multiple fields relating to speech.
However, as the pitfalls of instant gratification teach me, the answer most easily available to me probably isn’t the answer that will resolve my issue. And when it comes to something as all-consuming in importance as Climate, speech doesn’t satisfy.
So how does the world speak?
Mahogany L. Browne said, “There is always a way forward with language.” However, she didn’t designate which type of language. As I continue to learn how to heal my gut, I’m being introduced to more languages and deepening relationships with languages I may have already been familiar with.
Examples of Alternative Languages:
The Breath: Exploring the different ways its spirit presents itself through my body
Responding to what the arches of my feet and my scrape-tight scapula ask of me, because muscles, bones, and joints send signals from experiences that know no human words
How the food that I consume meets me, moves through me, and changes me, promoting the plasticity of my body in a way that is more nuanced and complex than the chemistry of its nutritional composition
I watch the world. I let everything that I have learned find agreement: biology, media, sports, the stock market, a well-timed joke, calculus, history. Everything yields language.
Where verbal language fails, we need trust.
Using Other Languages to Benefit Speech
I believe communication is key to healing ourselves and our Climate.
If our experiences lead us to open ourselves to alternative forms of communication, we can gain the wisdom and bravery to express ourselves verbally with more originality—who we are, how we feel, and what is important to us— as well as make room to listen to non-verbal communication. We can have braver Climate conversations that leave us heartened to go on better than we were before.
This is how I wish and work to grow in my own communication. When I hear others speak bravely, my heart goes out to them. This is the world I want so badly it makes me cry. Crying is a beautiful song of language, too.
I’m leaving you with this spoken poem again because this is my newsletter, and I do what I want: “Being Human” by Naima Penniman of Soul Fire Farm.