從學生到播客：一段關於聲音的旅程 From Student to Podcast: A Journey of Sound.mp3

大家好。我本來想先用英文開場，一來是練習一下英語能力，二來也想把說英文變成習慣。不過我的英語水平實在有限，想說的話、想表達的想法，總是沒辦法清晰地傳遞出去。所以呢，接下來大部分內容，我還是用中文跟大家分享吧。 我會想到錄自己的聲音，其實是因為我曾經有個特別棒的學生——他叫Steven，是個小小的魔術師，還運營著自己的YouTube頻道。我認識他的時候，他才上三年級，但做的很多事，都超出了同齡孩子的範疇。不過從外表看，他總給人一種和這個世界「格格不入」的感覺。 比如，雖說他是我的學生，卻沒法像其他孩子一樣正常上我的課。但他有個更棒的舞台，一個完全由他自己搭建的舞台。也是透過他，我才知道了IG（也就是Instagram）——以前我根本不知道這是什麼。有一次我還把「Instagram」念錯了，現在想起來還覺得好笑。 有一回，因為他是我的學生，就試著來聽了一次我的課。那天我鬧了個笑話，我倆都笑得特別開心。但我倒覺得，錯了就錯了嘛，這種無傷大雅的小失誤，我完全能接受。 這事就不多說了。後來我自己也開了個小小的Instagram帳號，其實主要是用來跟自己對話的。不過我把這段經歷當開場，是因為我一直記得Steven——他真的是個特別優秀的孩子，也是他教會了我用IG。 其實我開IG，不是想推廣什麼特別厲害的理念，單純是因為Steven身上有很多讓人覺得可愛的地方。但後來我發現了更有意思的事：聽自己的聲音，試著用聲音跟自己、跟別人交流。 按我現在的情況，沒太多機會跟別人聊天。而且我本身性格就偏宅，不太喜歡花時間跟人應酬，反而跟自己對話這件事，我做得更自在些。 跟自己說話的時候，偶爾會冒出一些想法——或許別人也願意聽聽，就算只是隨便聽聽，能激發點不一樣的思路也挺好。抱著這個想法，幾年前我開始做播客，在喜馬拉雅上開了好幾個節目。 說起來也是偶然，當時無意間發現了播客這個東西，現在都快忘了最開始是怎麼知道的了。不過還是得提Steven——是他告訴我，原來聲音也能當成交友的方式。比如他曾經發過一段語音給我，我當時就覺得「這也太方便了吧！」我平時本來就忙，在手機上打字又費時間，後來視力越來越差，打字就更費勁了。 那時候喜馬拉雅開播客還不用花錢，也沒什麼門檻，只要想做就能開。早期有幾個播客對我影響挺大的，聽別人分享經歷的時候，我才發現原來能從別人的故事裡學不一樣的思考方式。這對我幫助特別大，因為那時候我的生活，表面上看其實挺封閉、挺枯燥的。 不過我總能找到自己想做的事，就是沒什麼時間做——一般得等家裡人都睡熟了才行。我家有個失智的婆婆，24小時都需要包尿褲與悉心照顧，還有個重度自閉症的孩子，也特別需要人盯著。有好幾次，我還得去警察局報孩子走失，有時候找不到人，拜託警察幫忙找人之外，還得請家人、朋友協尋代禱。 在這種情況下，能真正面對自己、做自己喜歡的事，就只有深夜的時候了。那段時間，我會覺得「自己才是生活的主人」。雖然時間很短，也很珍貴，甚至有點像「在透支一點點生命」，但現在回頭看，我覺得特別值。 我說話可能沒什麼邏輯，想到哪說到哪，也沒個開頭結尾，但我挺開心的——因為終於能跟自己好好聊聊了。現在是半夜，我聲音得小點。對了，現在幾點了？我看看手錶——顯示3點32分，但這錶不準，得減個7分鐘，應該是3點05分左右吧。算錯了也沒關係，反正天還沒亮，特別早。 我剛從床上起來，想到點事兒，就隨便說說。也不知道這段能不能當播客內容，其實就是我跟自己的對話而已。我沒指望別人會聽，也不要求自己說的每句話都對。 不過今天聽播客的時候，聽到一句話我特別喜歡。那個主播說，他老闆跟他們說：「拜託你們別追求完美了，你們根本不需要完美。」這句話說得太深得我心了！我們本來就不需要完美，說實話，就算拼盡全力，也不可能做到完美。 為了「完美」折騰自己，真的特別消耗精力。我之所以這麼說，是因為我大半輩子都在追求完美——從小時候一直到現在，我都五十多了。很多人不敢說自己的年齡，但我覺得這沒什麼好藏的。不是因為我看來顯年輕，而是就算你不說，別人看你樣子也能猜個大概。藏這種明眼人都能看出來的事，真的沒意義。 哎呀，又扯遠了，剛才說到哪都快忘了。不過現在這樣也挺好：我能隨便說自己想說的，不用管別人愛不愛聽——只要不傷害別人，不逼著別人聽就行。也不用怕自己說的話讓別人不舒服，願意聽就聽，不願意聽就滑走，多自在。 回想我這一輩子，沒幾個人願意好好聽我說話——不管是我的學生（我教過的學生其實挺多的），還是我的孩子。我有兩個孩子：老大是重度自閉症，你說一個自閉症孩子，能指望他聽你說多少話呢？老二是個小藝術家，我這麼說真不是誇張——他上五年級的時候，參加畫畫比賽拿的獎金就超過5萬塊了。 但我覺得這也說明不了什麼，畢竟不是所有藝術家都要靠比賽證明自己，而且他還只是個孩子。我經常跟他開玩笑：「你確定你是我生的嗎？」他以前會說：「對啊，我是！」現在他長大了，還會反問我：「不然呢？我媽還能是別人？」 可能是他爸爸教得好——我先生和老二，在我心裡才是真正的藝術家。至於我，就是個教美術和創意課的老師而已，沒什麼特別的。 我想說的是，我生活裡願意聽我說話的人真的不多。我爸媽一輩子都是老師，連我爺爺在抗日戰爭時期（日本佔領中國的時候）也是老師——那時候當老師多不容易啊。可能就是因為家裡這股「教師基因」太強了，我最後也成了老師。其實這真不是我一開始想做的工作。 但我爸跟我說：「想不餓肚子，就去當老師。」那時候我其實考上了關渡那所有名的藝術學院（專門培養藝術家的），但還是聽了我爸的話，選了教師這個職業。後來我還挺感謝我爸的——你想啊，我嫁的人已經是藝術家了，要是我也是搞藝術的，真不知道日子會過成什麼樣！不過現在我也想通了，人生所有的安排，說不定都是最好的。 我這輩子做過的選擇，從來沒後悔過。不管選了什麼，我都會儘量去適應生活給我的「框架」或者「形狀」。就像被放進一個固定形狀的杯子裡，我會試著改變自己的「形狀」去貼合它。有時候覺得自己就像變形蟲，特別能適應環境。 但本來是圓的，非要逼自己變成方的、橢圓的、花朵的形狀，甚至是兔子的形狀（別人想讓你變成什麼樣，你就得變），感覺跟耍猴似的，特別不自在。因為那不是我本來的樣子，所以每次「變身」都得花時間。這個過程對我來說挺難的，因為我本來就不聰明。既然不聰明，就得花更多時間去迎合別人的期待——其實挺累的。 也不知道還能錄多久，怕時間不夠，那就先說到這吧。今天就分享這些啦，謝謝大家。如果真的有人聽到這段錄音，我會謝謝自己——終於有勇氣錄了第一期播客，一期只說自己想說的話的播客。 希望這段音頻能真實地展現我這個人，就算裡面有很多錯，我也挺開心的——因為這就是最真實的我。謝謝大家。 Hello everyone. I originally planned to start in English—partly to practice my English skills, and partly to make speaking English a habit. However, my English is quite limited, and the thoughts and feelings I want to express often don’t come across clearly. So for most of what follows, I’ll be sharing in Chinese instead. The reason I began recording my own voice actually goes back to a very special student I once had. His name is Steven. He’s a young magician and also runs his own YouTube channel. When I first met him, he was only in third grade, yet many of the things he did were far beyond what children his age usually do. On the surface, though, he often seemed a little out of sync with the world around him. Although he was my student, he couldn’t attend my classes in the same way other children did. But he had an even better stage—one that he built entirely by himself. Through him, I also learned about IG, or Instagram. Before that, I didn’t even know what it was. I once even mispronounced “Instagram,” which still makes me laugh when I think about it now. One time, since he was my student, he tried sitting in on one of my classes. That day, I made a small mistake, and we both laughed so hard. I didn’t mind at all—if you make a mistake, you make a mistake. As long as it doesn’t hurt anyone, I think it’s perfectly fine. I won’t go into too much detail about that. Later, I opened a small Instagram account of my own, mainly as a way to talk to myself. I mention all this at the beginning because I’ve never forgotten Steven. He is truly an outstanding child, and he was also the one who taught me how to use IG. I didn’t start using Instagram to promote any grand ideas. It was simply because there were so many lovely qualities in Steven that touched me. Over time, though, I discovered something even more interesting: listening to my own voice, and trying to communicate—with myself and with others—through sound. Given my current situation, I don’t have many opportunities to chat with people. I’m naturally quite introverted and don’t enjoy socializing much. Talking to myself, on the other hand, feels much more comfortable. When I talk to myself, ideas sometimes emerge. I thought perhaps others might be willing to listen too—just casually, even. If it sparks a different way of thinking, that would already be enough. With that in mind, I started making podcasts a few years ago and opened several channels on Ximalaya. It was quite accidental, really. I happened to discover podcasts, though now I can hardly remember how I first learned about them. Still, Steven comes up again—he was the one who showed me that voices could also be a way of connecting with people. He once sent me a voice message, and I remember thinking, “This is so convenient!” I’m usually very busy, and typing on my phone takes time. As my eyesight worsened, typing became even more difficult. Back then, starting a podcast on Ximalaya didn’t cost anything and had very low barriers. If you wanted to do it, you could just start. Some early podcasts had a big influence on me. By listening to others share their experiences, I realized that you can learn very different ways of thinking through other people’s stories. It helped me a great deal, because at that time my life felt quite closed-off and monotonous on the surface. I could always find things I wanted to do, but I rarely had the time. Usually, I had to wait until everyone at home was fast asleep. I live with a mother-in-law who has dementia and needs round-the-clock care, including diapers, and I also have a child with severe autism who requires constant supervision. There were several times when my child went missing and I had to report it to the police. When we couldn’t find him, I had to ask the police for help, as well as family and friends to search and pray with us. Under circumstances like these, the only time I could truly face myself and do what I loved was late at night. During those moments, I felt like I was the true owner of my life. The time was short and precious, and it sometimes felt like I was “borrowing a little bit from my own life.” But looking back now, I feel it was absolutely worth it. I might not speak very logically. I jump from one thought to another, without a clear beginning or ending, but I’m happy—because at last, I can truly talk to myself. It’s the middle of the night now, so I have to keep my voice down. What time is it? Let me check my watch—it says 3:32, but this watch isn’t accurate. Subtract seven minutes… that would make it around 3:05. Even if I calculated wrong, it doesn’t matter. It’s still very early, before dawn. I just got out of bed, had a thought, and decided to speak casually. I don’t even know if this can count as podcast content. It’s really just a conversation with myself. I don’t expect anyone to listen, and I don’t expect everything I say to be right. Today, while listening to a podcast, I heard a sentence I really loved. The host said his boss once told them, “Please stop chasing perfection. You don’t need to be perfect.” That line spoke deeply to me. We truly don’t need to be perfect. Honestly, even if we give it everything we have, perfection is still impossible. Striving for perfection is incredibly draining. I say this because I’ve spent most of my life chasing it—from childhood until now. I’m already in my fifties. Many people are afraid to reveal their age, but I don’t see the point. It’s not because I look young—because even if you don’t say it, people can usually guess. Hiding something so obvious feels meaningless. Oops, I’ve wandered off topic again, and I’ve almost forgotten where I was. But this is fine too. I can say whatever I want, without worrying about whether people like it or not—as long as it doesn’t hurt anyone or force anyone to listen. If someone wants to listen, they can; if not, they can simply swipe away. How freeing is that? Looking back on my life, there really haven’t been many people willing to truly listen to me—whether my students (and I’ve taught quite a few) or even my own children. I have two children. My eldest has severe autism. How much can you really expect an autistic child to listen? My younger one is a little artist—and I’m not exaggerating. When he was in fifth grade, the prize money he won from art competitions already exceeded 50,000 dollars. But that doesn’t necessarily prove anything. Not all artists need competitions to validate themselves, and he’s still just a child. I often joke with him, “Are you sure you’re really my child?” He used to answer, “Of course I am!” Now that he’s older, he’ll reply, “Who else could my mom be?” Maybe it’s because his father taught him well. My husband and my younger son are, in my heart, the real artists. As for me, I’m just an art and creativity teacher—nothing particularly special. What I want to say is that there really aren’t many people in my life who are willing to listen to me. My parents were teachers their entire lives, and even my grandfather was a teacher during the War of Resistance against Japan. Being a teacher back then was no easy thing. Perhaps because this “teacher gene” runs so strong in my family, I eventually became a teacher too—even though it wasn’t what I originally wanted. My father once told me, “If you don’t want to go hungry, become a teacher.” At that time, I had actually been accepted into the well-known Guandu art academy, a school dedicated to training artists. But I followed my father’s advice and chose the teaching profession instead. Later, I became grateful to him. After all, my husband is already an artist—if I were one too, who knows what our life would have looked like? Now I’ve come to believe that perhaps every arrangement in life is for the best. I’ve never regretted any choice I’ve made in my life. No matter what I chose, I tried my best to adapt to the “frame” or “shape” that life gave me. It’s like being poured into a container of a fixed shape—I would try to change my own shape to fit it. Sometimes I feel like an amoeba, extremely adaptable. But if you’re originally round and are forced to become square, oval, flower-shaped, or even rabbit-shaped—just because others want you to be—that feels like performing tricks in a circus. It’s deeply uncomfortable, because it’s not who I truly am. Every transformation takes time. That process is difficult for me, because I’m not particularly smart. And when you’re not smart, you have to spend even more time trying to meet others’ expectations. It’s exhausting. I don’t know how much longer I can record—time might be running out—so I’ll stop here. That’s all I wanted to share today. Thank you. If someone really does listen to this recording, I will thank myself—for finally having the courage to record my very first podcast, one where I speak only what I want to say. I hope this audio can truly reflect who I am. Even if there are many mistakes, I’m still happy—because this is the most authentic version of me. Thank you.