hero's journey – Katie Kearns

Asking powerful questions

My former graduate students have been stepping into their power, and I am delighted. They are keeping their fires lit. Meanwhile, I feel like my internal house has been burning down and left to ashes. I have been in my own stalled labor into elderhood. In the last five years, I have witnessed as an academic doula so many miscarriages of power and so much distressed and stalled labor among the graduate students I supported and staff I had the honor of walking beside. It hurt my heart and squashed my spirit to witness, to be a part of, and to not be able to prevent or cure. Almost a year ago today, I gave a keynote talk about professional crossroads at a national conference on grad and postdoc career development. To all of you reading who attended my talk, I’m sorry. It was my best at the time, but it was not the storytelling I am capable of when I am calm, anchored, and clear in the story that wants to be heard. I was definitely at a professional and personal crossroads. I was “knocked on [my] ass by the demands of leading,” from Jerry Colonna’s book Reboot: Leadership and the Art of Growing Up (Harper, 2019, p. 47). I had left a job just weeks before that wasn’t a good fit for my passions, talents, gifts, interests, and higher purpose. An interesting thing DID happen while I was at that conference that planted a delightful seed, that ever so slightly moved me out of the deconstruction and demolition phase. That’s when the therapeutic seed was planted that I wanted the skill of coaching.

Wonder Woman/Wonder Women

Wonder Woman is holding open the jaws of a gigantic toothy reptile. I'm sure the reptile has a name in the comic books.

One of my best friends told me that after a major relationship breakup, he listened to music and watched shows he enjoyed before he had met that person. He deliberately reminded himself of who he used to be, and he mindfully reincorporated elements of that past self into his present self after that life transition. I’m reading Jill Lepore’s book, “The Secret Life of Wonder Woman” and planning to read the comics. And I’m watching the Wonder Woman tv show.

Music lessons

Two clarinet cases, open, next to each other. The case on the left is brown, the one on the right is black.

Our musical communities anticipated and accepted change as a gift of the experience. Thus, passages, initiations, and transitions were opportunities to collectively honor what had been and celebrate what’s ahead. During my senior year, we created our own musical festival on a Friday night in the school cafeteria called “Wild Things,” a homegrown extravaganza including a drum circle (organized by our science teacher) and our class’ garage band, Pale Green Pants (my favorite song of theirs was “Chunky Monkey”). The cast of Annie gave me a rubber dog bone as a get-well present after I sustained a serious dog bite while working at a vet clinic that same summer after my senior year (yes, I had _four_ part-time jobs that summer of 1992).

Making decisions

six pieces of blown glass of different colors - a bowl, a vase, a pitcher, a cup, a globe, an ornament.

I’m making everyday decisions with harsh critics watching over my shoulder. I act as if I have to have The One final outcome imagined with detail. What if making that one tiny decision IS the decision? The question: do I want to get these toes fixed now? Notice the question is not, will I get these toes fixed now, and who will do it, how, how will it feel, when, what if…, who will take care of.., and then what about…? Just the simple question, do I want to get these toes fixed now? The answer: yes, I want to get my toes fixed now.

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.

I am the snapping turtle

A loggerhead sea turtle on the beach heading toward the water

That late-summer evening in 2019, in cutting a snapping turtle free from lake weeds, I started the process of setting myself free from codependency and internalized oppressive mindsets.

I am my grandmothers’ dreams

A white woman with brown, shoulder-length hair. She's wearing an orange shirt. Her body faces to the left, she's looking at the camera. On her left shoulder is a colorful peacock tattoo.

I didn’t remember that I had this dream until I opened my email at the breakfast table this morning. I opened an email from pinterest of things I might like. Among the recommended pins was a picture of glass-bead earrings shaped like peacock feathers.

The dream rushed right back into my consciousness and I let out a deep sob. The river of tears seemed to emerge from nowhere and everywhere.

The hats we wear, the masks we wear

A woman with a green surgical gown on holding a stuffed panda. She has a paper mask and a purple surgeon's hat with pandas on it. She's standing in a doorway.

We wear different metaphorical hats to reflect our roles, functions, and responsibilities with each other. To what degree do we also wear masks to manage others’ perceptions and to control our belonging?