community – Katie Kearns

Leaving the hibernation den

Two feet from mid-calf down. They are wearing black sneakers with white soles. The person is wearing dark grey sweatpants. They are standing on a wood floor.

I promised myself that the first day I would work only a half-day in-person. Even that was a lot. The office lights were excruciatingly bright and the considerate, everyday noise of people in the office overwhelmed my sensory system. I retreated to my office “den” where I used desk lamps instead of the overhead lights and kept my door cracked or closed.

Reflections and intentions: Being in community

The sun is setting and reflecting on a lake. The water is frozen near the beach, which is in the foreground. The water in the middle of the lake is open water. There are rocks in the foreground, and hills with trees in the background.

I am entering into this new calendar year with more self-compassionate approaches to reflection and intention setting. What did I learn about myself for this year? What did I do for myself this year? What values do I continue to uphold and want to focus on for next year?

I want to be a turtle grandma

A translucent glass turtle on a white background. The legs elevate the turtle off the surface and the head is raised. The shell of the turtle is mosaic glass - blue, green, yellow tiles.

The turtle grandmas are shepherds, protectors, and keepers of space for the nestlings. They do pastoral work, watching over the nests and being present before, during, and after the turtles hatch. They facilitate the flow of nature.

This is fine

A cartoon of a yellow dog with big eyes, black ears, and black nose sitting in a chair. There are flames all around him. He has a red hat on. He's smiling. Below him are the words, "This is fine"

I am today years old in realizing the extraordinary self-doubt I feel in my capability to discern “this is fine” from “this is not fine.” I don’t believe myself to be a reliable narrator.

My dislocated toes: A thorough update

Cross legs, the left on top of the right. The toenails are painted purple. The legs are on a clay-colored sheet and blue fleece blanket. On the right foot (which is on the left-hand side of the image), the second and third toes are crooked.

I’m inviting friends to help me tend to my fears about pain, loneliness, and urgent need as best I can. I get to have new experiences of care from and with my friends. I get to expand my self-knowledge about what feels good to me. I get to learn more about the people in my community and what they like to do.

Accompaniment in graduate student development

the entrance to woods. There are young trees on either side and grasses in front. It is fall - leaves are yellow, some trees are already bare. The sky is blue and the sun is shining.

Graduate students, postdocs, and colleagues are contemplating change, a process of dramatic and emotional self-examination, assessing their environment, weighing options, evaluating their aid systems, and assembling their supportive relationships. Their imaginations are wild with possibilities. They know they are approaching a choice to voice what they want for their true selves. They know they are preparing to, but aren’t quite ready to, decide whether to let a past version of themselves go and a new version emerge. I hold space for graduate students, postdocs and professional development coaches who are contemplating, considering, preparing for, and committing to change.

Wanderings

A floor to ceiling glass sculpture by Dale Chihuly at the Seattle glass museum. Each piece of glass is a large tendril coming out of a central tornado-like structure. The pieces of glass are various hues of blue. There are gold glass sculptures at the bottom of starfish and nautilus.

I participated in these conference wanderings as a temporarily physically disabled person. I acknowledge many layers of privilege of my social position. Also, I hope that, through my social position, I can raise awareness about ways we can do meetings that are more accommodating and inclusive. Knowing that I was experiencing pain and tiredness in ways most others weren’t, I had to learn to self-advocate to make my life manageable to attend these events. I told my friends in advance what to expect from me and what help they could offer. And I offered myself opportunities for more rest, more solitude, a place to sit, ice, more time between locations, and quiet protected time to talk one-on-one.

Smoke and mirrors

A blue, green, and yellow flame with burned branches around it

First, I want readers to notice how we currently serve as smoky mirrors to each other in many of our communities, from Don Manuel Ruiz’s The Four Agreements. Second, I want to offer a strategy for being a truer mirror to people in your communities, from Ora North’s I Don’t Want to Be an Empath Anymore.

Surrender

A road map of Illinois. There is a red flag below Champaign-Urbana.

Despite the chaos and uncertainty of my health at that moment 20 years ago, I allowed my colleague to attune to me. I allowed his protection of space around me to create our own little bubble world that was perfectly quiet, still, and safe.

This moment of letting go was completely contrary to my default way of walking through the world, where I _always_ masking myself, attuning to others, and acting as their caregiver.

Hey there, punty girl!

A blue and green swirled vase in the center of the image. It is connected to a rod. In the background is a man's legs (he's the teacher)

I earned the title Punty Girl last night in glass blowing class. My classmates harmoniously sing out “Punty” to get my attention and request my assistance. I am honored to serve the role and I enthusiastically offer my punty abilities to my glass blowing classmates. I’ve already made some Weird Al songs variations for myself: Hey There, Punty Girl and Pass the Punty.