From Ira Kiourti
For Katherine
I still cannot believe this is happening. As I sit here, entertaining an actuality without Katherine, I am wondering what I can possibly write to illustrate her presence.
Katherine exemplified an incredible set of complex properties. That success and great honour do not preclude being kind and generous to others. Nor does academia preclude embracing womanhood in all its forms; nor does it require such an aggressive and specialised mind that it becomes closed to all other ideas and possibilities. I always felt such admiration for Katherine. A brilliant philosopher with genuine benevolence toward others. An oasis of sanity and upliftment in the hardest of times – without ever achieving this by indulging in negativity of any kind. Honourable, wise, inquisitive, with a great sense of humour. The list goes on. All these are some of Katherine’s incredible properties. She also had some others. Like having studied physics and being one of few philosophers officially allowed to mention quantum mechanics in a talk; being Head of School, Editor of the Philosophical Quarterly and other great honours that no doubt required hours of work; doing meaningful philosophical outreach through her blog on Trust for Psychology Today; and let’s not forget her membership at the St Andrews Centre for Exoplanet Science – we’re talking about the possibility of life in outer space here. All that whilst being wonderfully grounded – a wife, a mother, a friend and, apparently, a lucky charm to a whole bunch of us.
I was truly blessed to have had Katherine as my PhD supervisor back in the mid-late 00s. Working on a topic with few allies, it was Katherine who kept me sane. Always unassuming. Never making a fuss – just non-judgmental, intelligent conversation. She was genuinely interested in the discussion no matter how bizarre it got, occasionally pulling a funny face when I said something ‘off’ (much like one does when hearing a note of discord), always remaining down to earth and unnervingly on point.
Even beyond my time in academia, when I told Katherine that I was now doing this or that crazy thing, her reaction never betrayed the slightest bit of horror, her inspiring words were like water to the parched, her suggestions of how this or that might perhaps be of some genuine value always deeply illuminating. Even though I graduated from St Andrews over a decade ago, I have always felt better just knowing I was sharing the earth with Katherine. I feel that I have lost an ally, someone who made the world a better place simply by being in it. Remembering her support is often all it takes to restore a sense of hope in me – that’s how powerful her influence was.
There are precious few people in this world who will encourage you, cheer you on and help you realise potential far exceeding your own line of vision. If I have published in my short philosophy career it’s largely because of Katherine. She would just say “oh, why don’t you send this to such-and-such” and it sounded like the simplest thing in the world whilst at the same time blowing your mind. And lo and behold, the magic happened. She truly did have the Midas touch (thank you Alex), and the magic did ripple outwards.
Back in my PhD days, I once expressed to Katherine my horror at my own procrastination. She gave me a tip I still use. When I have trouble sitting down to write, I just put the radio on, just as she advised me to do back then, tricking my monkey mind into getting into the zone. The trick always works: after ten or twenty minutes, I’m off and so is the radio.
A great teacher does not merely teach by their words, they teach by their actions. Every time I read a post on this appreciation page, there is invariably a phrase that just hits home — words that could just as easily have been my words, feelings that seem to exactly match my own — a sense that the person speaking is really accidental, but the experience is not. Whether it is this or that person that Katherine substantially helped and inspired, this or that situation that Katherine elevated by her presence, what’s constant is the nature of the thing. Katherine brought about a certain experience simply by being who she is. And this now shines through more than ever.
Perhaps this is evidence of some kind. Evidence that when we die, our essence remains – perhaps even more purely now that all extraneous factors are gone.
I am ever so grateful that Katherine took time to write to me a couple of months ago. I had last seen her in 2019, when she came to my talk at the Arché 20 year reunion, going above and beyond as usual, even though she’d not been feeling well. This February, replying to a little Christmas card I’d sent, she bravely decided to keep me in the loop, sharing her grave news. Even in this most difficult of times, she did so in an uplifting, even hopeful tone — so much so that I was convinced. I suppose I just refused to entertain the possibility of a Katherineless world.
There are barely a few years between Katherine and I. Her loss is deeply felt – even by those like me, at the far reaches of her solar system. And, as with all extreme emotions, one is reminded of its opposite. The immense riches of having known Katherine – to have been on the receiving end of her generosity and kindness, her wisdom and intelligence, her unstinting support. These are riches that she left behind and will always be with us. My heart goes out to Katherine’s family, her children and to Jon – Matt and I still fondly remember our dinner at the Cellar.
A friend shared this with me when he heard the news, an excerpt by Ted Berrigan’s Things to do in Providence.
*
The heart stops briefly when someone dies,
A quick pain as you hear the news, & someone passes
from your outside to your inside. Slowly the heart adjusts
to its new weight, & slowly everything continues, sanely.
*
Katherine will forever live in my ‘inside’. And, perhaps, a fraction of her unparalleled essence will take seed in me.
Ira