**4. Conclusions**

This paper illustrates Tayal's millet field operation as their foodscape, in which indigenous resilience principles reside. Some of these principles coincide with those explicated in the work of Biggs et al. [13]. Firstly, the Tayal millet foodscape sustains bio- and cultural diversity of the Tayal community. Millets have vanished for over three decades in Pagung's village. However, the action of Millet Ark Initiative has significantly recovered the varieties of millets used by the villagers in the past. Not only are the biological varieties recovered, including the varieties of millet crops (intra-species) and of mixing crops in the millet field (inter-species), so is the traditional millet vocabulary, which signifies cultural and linguistic diversity of the Tayal.

Secondly, the millet foodscape manages connectivity. Tayal's historical migration should not be regarded as a simple act of moving in space. The shifting agriculture of millets and the grand migration, remembered through the singing of "lmuhuw", are both responses to the environmental change. In such a manner, humans are connected to the changing environment and react to it. The migratory movement also means more connections to other non-human species that include bamboo, alder, new lands, and places. All these are involved and linked in a wider sense of Tayal ecological world.

Thirdly, the millet foodscape monitors feedbacks. The shifting agriculture closely linked with millets growing involves feedback process of crops (millet and other mixing crops)-fallowbamboo-(or alder)-crops in connectivity. This process has to be combined with the active human agency of slashing and burning the bamboo (or alder) for increasing the nutrients of the soil. In this way, Tayal's millets growing does not need the chemical fertilizers but use the ecological services in the environment as the Tayal are keen on responding to feedbacks from the environment.

Fourthly, the millet foodscape fosters complex adaptive systems thinking. The historical migratory routes and experiences embody many incidents of trial-and-error to establish an adaptive system for Tayal's survival. The thinking behind these efforts include the navigation skills, food foraging, ecological observations about finding safe residential sites and the social institutions related to solidarity. Finally, it expands participation into a widening circle of associations. In the past seven years, the members of Millet Ark Initiative have connected global network action of climate change to the local context and provided local knowledge and thinking in return. The global-local interaction has been significantly increased through the women's practices led by Pagung. In view that women's voice has largely been silenced in traditional Tayal society, the Initiative has not only broadened the participation on the international level but also crossed over gender boundary.

There are other boundaries to transcend including that between the human and non-human. The indigenous ways we convey through our narrative embodies an entangled world of human and non-human beings, a "meshwork", which in effect creates "new possibilities for the flourishing of life along diverse lines" [27] (p. 320). Indigenous ways are different from knowledge of Western science as they are "conservation-oriented practices of ecosystem, which tend to be grounded in their humans-as-part-of-nature worldview," a wider community of beings that includes animals, plants, rivers and rocks [7] (p. 273). The interactions and interchanges between the human and non-human species shape the Tayal home/land into a "nourishing terrain of indigenous sovereignty," to borrow Deborah Bird Rose words, which heals and takes care, providing "nourishment for body, mind and spirit; heart's ease" [28] (p. 7). Indigenous land is recalled with an affective force that affirms the land not merely as a shared heritage of belonging but as a material base where indigenous survival and flourishing are made possible. Rose calls for renewed attention to "situated connectivities that bind us into multi-species communities" [29].

This study applies storytelling to make sense of what we hear, observe, participate in, and experience in the field and in so doing, to recuperate indigenous resilience and climate action. Our methodology, however, is not without limitation. As we cannot but translate indigenous stories/singing into English, we become sensitive to and aware of what is then lost in translation. Not only concepts but words are translated into Chinese first and then English, both dominate languages that are often those of oppression and repression. They are oppressive and repressive in the sense that for indigenous people, dominant languages are "the enemy's languages" [30]. Not until they are "reinvented," would they not communicate indigenous values, vision, and experiences to the fullness.

In fact, translation can be a double-edged sword—"a tool for counter-hegemonic practices of communication and a tool of oppression, always giving minority languages a modicum of 'value' in the market of linguistic exchanges," as Marina Sitrin puts it brilliantly [31]. In telling the stories, Pagung retains her native language while a part of her stories is carried out in Chinese. In our English writing, therefore, we do not translate words; instead, we translate ideas. Some of the indigenous words, heavily charged with cultural and historical meanings, do not have simple equivalents in English. An "untranslatable" word alerts us to the unique cultural dynamics of an "othered" world, whose tradition has been repressed by the mainstream culture.

The aspect of untranslatability is powerful precisely because it cuts through or orients toward an alternative worldview, which is different from the commonsensical mainstream. Ideas and praxes of resistance are, however, translatable. We translate ideas in English writing in the form of stories/narratives to reach out to those who are already building a common symbolic system of understanding. Some of the translations are intentionally left at what would appear slightly imperfect. We keep an indigenous word of cultural or historical significance intact and when this happens, we explicate it in our narrative in the hope to best communicate it. There are passages intermingling English with a rhythmic indigenous language filled with oral story-telling markers. Drawing upon indigenous orality, Pagung recovers the lost memory of her home-base as she recounts migration. The indigenous words in this paper represent both the "route" of the migration and the "root" of migratory people. Consequently, our paper presents the process of telling and listening. By that sensory experience, we also trace a process of becoming sensitive to the place and people from which we are speaking to facilitate transformed relationships with indigenous land, water, and ecology.

The untranslatability is thus powerful as a form of resistance and storytelling is apt for situated knowledge of indigenous community and in its telling and retelling, opens a co-working space where transdisciplinary scholarship and indigenous place-based thought mingle. Knowledge which is situated is much more realistic than knowledge from nowhere, as Ingold points out [19]. Our responsibility is to the future when we endeavor to find ways to cope with a changing world [32].

As scholars from different disciplines at work with indigenous communities, we find interdisciplinary telling of stories as meshwork useful. Informed by Tim Ingold's use of "meshwork" as a metaphor for how life is lived along lines of becoming: emergent, indeterminate, contingent, historical, narrative, the use of "meshwork" to make transdisciplinary research encounters more attuned to difference [27]. The idea of "meshwork" conveys the open-endedness of transdisciplinary research where subject positions are not conceived in advance of a research encounter, but rather "erupt in the interstices of research methods, objectives and desired outcomes" [27] (p.315).

We aim to further and expand our work by calling for a meshwork approach in transdisciplinarity to identify multiple pathways toward alternative futures. Such an approach visualizes individuals as lines of not "being" but "becoming"; thus Nicole Klenk suggests:

As lines of becoming, research practices and knowledges are always already entangled in knots with other lines of becoming. We need to learn to be attuned to the histories and trajectories of the lines of becoming we cross, and learn to tell their stories. Meshwork is about becoming skillful in recognizing entanglements, and through attunement to stories, in creating new possibilities for the flourishing of life along diverse lines [27] (p. 320).

This approach, in Klenk's language, "encourages us to become skilled at being with others and witnessing their personal experiences" by learning to "tell their stories" [27] (p. 318). We view our collaboration with the indigenous community as "composed of individual paths with histories and trajectories, which are best characterized and become known as stories" [27] (p. 317). In a sense, we recognize that "knowledge grows and becomes integrated through storytelling" [27] (p. 317). We learn from the stories we are given, and now endeavor to learn to tell the stories of our encounters. In this interdisciplinary, place-based praxis of meshwork, to borrow words from environmental justice scholar and activist Julie Sze, "it is precisely now that imagination and action become essential" [33] (p. 1).

Consequently, we move beyond anthropocentric thoughts to side with those who study contact zones where lines separating nature from culture have disappeared or blurred, where encounters between Homo sapiens and other beings generate mutual ecologies, anticipating the emergence of the "alterworlds" of other living beings. In this way, our narratives reflect what Stacy Alaimo describes as corporeal ethics, where "ethical action arises, then, from the recognition of one's specific location within a wider, more-than-human kinship network" [34] (p. 30). We appreciate thinking and acting for the construction of dialogues, affinities, and collective action with a view to social and planetary transformation. Our meshwork evokes solidarity networks from global alliances to local/indigenous identification, to actions and practices battling environmental deterioration, which is part and parcel of our responsibilities and of our country's resilience and power.

Huway bnakis Tayal ru huway utux krahuw. (Thanks to the Tayal ancestors and the Supreme Spirit).

**Author Contributions:** Conceptualization, Y.-R.L., H.H., P.T.; methodology, H.H., Y.-R.L.; field work: Y.-R.L., P.T., H.H.; literature review, C.-H.L., H.H.; original draft preparation: H.H., Y.-R.L.; review and editing, H.H., Y.-R.L.; references, C.-H.L.; translation, Y.C. All authors have read and agreed to the published version of the manuscript.

**Funding:** This research was partially funded by the Ministry of Science and Technology, Taiwan, grant 109-2420-H-038-001-MY3, "Social Economy and Indigenous Community Resilient Livelihood: A Case Study of Three Communities in Back Mountain of Jienshi District, Hsinchu County".

**Conflicts of Interest:** The authors declare no conflict of interest.
