I definitely want to get into environmental science and

The words of SZA, spoken with both yearning and reverence, shine with the purity of vision: “I definitely want to get into environmental science and environmental politics, learning a lot more and preserving what’s left of the world. That’s such a sacred circle to be in. I’d love to contribute to that.” In these lines, we hear not only the voice of an artist, but the cry of a soul who recognizes the fragility of the earth. She calls the task of preservation a sacred circle, for it binds humanity to nature, past to future, and individuals to the collective. It is a circle that must be defended, lest it break and all life fall into ruin.

At the heart of her words is the acknowledgment that knowledge and action are inseparable. To learn of environmental science is to open one’s eyes to the hidden balances of the earth: the cycles of water, the flow of carbon, the fragile interdependence of species. To step into environmental politics is to labor not only in thought but in law and policy, where decisions shape the survival of forests, oceans, and skies. SZA recognizes that this union of science and politics is not merely academic—it is the path of preservation, the way to ensure that what remains of the earth is not squandered but protected.

Her words recall the wisdom of those who stood before us as guardians of the land. Think of Rachel Carson, whose book Silent Spring unveiled the destruction caused by pesticides. Though she was met with ridicule and fierce opposition, her courage to speak truth awakened the world to the need for environmental protection. Carson, like SZA, entered the sacred circle, willing to bear the weight of knowledge and responsibility for the sake of what was left of the world. Her struggle birthed the modern environmental movement, proving that individuals who step into this circle can change the fate of nations.

The image of the sacred circle is powerful and ancient. For in many indigenous traditions, the circle is the symbol of life itself: the seasons turning, the generations rising and falling, the endless dance of earth and sky. To enter the circle is to commit to harmony, to live not as a conqueror of the earth but as a steward. SZA’s words carry the same spirit—recognizing that to preserve the world is not merely duty, but honor, a calling higher than ambition, a service to both the ancestors who handed us the earth and the descendants who will inherit it.

Yet within her words lies also the recognition of urgency. She does not speak of preserving the whole world, but of preserving “what’s left of the world.” Already, much has been destroyed—forests burned, species vanished, waters poisoned. But even in this grief, her words carry hope. For what remains is precious beyond measure, and it is still within our power to save it. To despair is to abandon the circle; to act is to keep it whole.

The lesson here is clear: each person must decide whether to stand outside the circle of preservation, indifferent to the earth’s decline, or to step within it, joining the sacred labor of renewal. To learn, to speak, to act—these are not the burdens of the few, but the responsibility of all. For without preservation, there can be no future; without stewardship, there can be no harmony. The sacred circle is open to all, but it demands courage, humility, and constancy.

Therefore, children of tomorrow, hear SZA’s words as a call. Learn the truths of the earth through science, wield them with justice in politics, and live them out in daily life. Plant where others destroy, protect where others exploit, and speak where others remain silent. Contribute what you can, for no act of preservation is too small. To step into the sacred circle is to stand with all who came before and all who will come after, bound together by the hope that the world—though wounded—can yet be healed, and that humanity, through wisdom and love, may still prove itself worthy of the earth entrusted to its care.