Our Saint Mary's Equinox

Dear Saint Mary’s Friends,
 
As I drove onto campus one morning last week, I was reminded that just days earlier we had marked the official arrival of spring. March 20 brought the vernal equinox—one of only two days each year when day and night stand in quiet balance, when light and darkness have equal measure. At Saint Mary’s, we are living our own kind of equinox.
 
Right now, we are accompanying two groups of students who are approaching pivotal moments. Our seniors, who have made this peaceful sanctuary their home, are preparing to leave it. And the young women who have been admitted to the College are deciding whether they will join us here. These groups inhabit the same moment in time, though they face in different directions relative to Saint Mary’s—one looking back with knowledge and memories, the other looking ahead with imagination and hope.
 
In terms of light and darkness, this season holds a particular brightness for those on the cusp of graduation: the clarity that comes from years of study, the confidence shaped through challenge and discovery, the deep friendships and sense of belonging that have taken root over time. Alongside that light is some shade—the uncertainty of what comes next and the recognition that something meaningful is coming to an end. For those considering Saint Mary’s, there is also light: a future not yet fully imagined, but promising intellectual and personal growth. And there, too, is a shadow—the challenge of hearing one’s own inner voice while making a weighty decision. 
 
Both groups, in different ways, are learning to stand in that delicate balance between what is known and what is still unexplored. Again and again, I hear from our students and alumnae that what they found at Saint Mary’s was not something given to them fully formed, but something they discovered and cultivated within themselves: confidence, purpose, and voice. That is part of what we mean when we speak about empowerment. Our students claim it—through community andthrough the encouragement of multiple mentors. Over time, they recognize their own capacity to shape their lives and to contribute meaningfully to the world around them. 

One powerful symbol of Saint Mary’s is visible from my office window: The Avenue. Lined with trees that have witnessed decades of arrival and departure, it is a road traveled by every student. It leads them into the life of the College, and it leads them outward—into the many directions their lives will take. Each student walks her own path, yet no one walks alone.
 
Indeed, each year, as the earth completes its 365-day journey around the sun, we find ourselves here on The Avenue again—readying ourselves to welcome a new class while preparing to send another forth. This rhythm is so familiar that we might overlook its significance. But it is one of the most profound expressions of who we are. We are a community that knows how to receive and how to let go. One of my presidential predecessors, Sister Madeleva Wolff, CSC, wrote about what she called “the relaxed grasp”—a way of holding the world and one another with care but without constraint. I have always imagined this as an open palm rather than a closed fist, and perhaps there is wisdom in that image. To welcome fully, we cannot cling. To send forth with love, we cannot hold too tightly. What we offer one another is not possession, but presence; not an ending, but an unfolding.
 
Our seniors carry away with them more than a degree. They carry the habits of mind, the relationships, and the sense of purpose that have taken root during their time here. You might say they leave Saint Mary’s, but it does not leave them. Our prospective students stand at the beginning of something that has shaped generations of women before them. 
Here, they will become part of a living tradition that will challenge them, support them, and encourage them to discover who they are becoming.
 
For all who are part of this community—students, families, faculty, staff, alumnae, and friends—this seasonal change offers a quiet invitation to recognize the beauty of balance and to trust in the continuity that binds us across time.
 
The equinox does not last. Every day, the light changes. And so do we. But what endures is this: a community that accompanies its members—holding each one, always, with a relaxed and open hand.
 
As we journey through this Holy Week, I pray you experience your own passage from darkness to light.
 
Warm regards,

Katie Conboy, Ph.D.
President
 

March 30, 2026