91�ε�

As the Moon begins a new cycle, something gentle and steady is also beginning at 91�ε�: our 2026 Community Crochet Coral Reef gatherings. Our first circle of the year has just unfolded, and what stayed with me most was not the stitches themselves, but the way the Zoom room filled with curiosity, laughter, and quiet companionship.

When this project was first imagined, we spoke often about oceans, coral, and ecological care. Those threads are still present, of course, but what continues to surprise me is how powerfully this work also supports another kind of ecosystem: the living network of students, faculty, alumni, and friends who make up our learning community. Each New Moon circle becomes a low-pressure, creative space where we can show up as we are and still feel part of something larger.

There is something about gathering around the New Moon that invites exhale. The Moon’s ebb and flow echo the rhythms of graduate school: classes beginning and ending, assignments and internships, and the slow, steady stretching that comes with becoming counselors and art therapists. Meeting at the dark, quiet beginning of the lunar month offers us a moment to pause inside those cycles—a small, intentional pocket of time to sit together, make with our hands, and remember that we are not doing any of our work alone.

On Zoom, the circle is wonderfully imperfect and human. Cameras and sounds on and off as people settle in from different time zones. Some come with baskets of yarn or bags of scraps; others arrive with nothing but a mug of tea and willingness to experiment. Seasoned crocheters may share tips with beginners. Silence, when it comes, does not feel empty; it feels like a soft tide moving in and out as we stitch, knot, and listen. For many of us, graduate school can feel both deeply meaningful and quietly isolating. We are holding clients, coursework, families, jobs, and our own inner lives.

The Crochet Coral Reef circles offer a different tempo—a place where you do not need to be “on,” brilliant, or productive in the usual academic sense. You can simply be a person among other people, following a strand of yarn and seeing what emerges. In that shared making, something relational is quietly woven: a sense of belonging, of being witnessed, of being part of a long, slow project that none of us could create alone. The evolving reef installation will continue to grow over time, but the real art may be what happens in the in-between moments: the check-ins, the shared mistakes, the stories told while hands are busy.

With each New Moon, we are invited to begin again—one loop, one conversation, one small act of showing up for ourselves and each other.

If you feel drawn to join the circle, you are welcome. No experience is necessary. Just bring yourself, some materials to play with if available, and a willingness to be part of this living, breathing tapestry of connection. To see this work come alive, please visit Tierra Nueva Counseling Center’s front office to view the combined creative efforts of the 2025 coral reef crocheters, mounted in a beautiful display.