Call in Your Vocational Ancestors

Fosterverse Weekly #40

May 13, 2025

Dearest Writer,

Years ago a Foster Steward blessed me with this YouTube clip (below) of Elizabeth Gilbert (

Letters From Love with Elizabeth Gilbert

) at a time when I was truly at a crossroads. I’d been all over the map industry-wise, and none of the terms, vocation, hobby, job, or career truly made sense for me and my path forward then. Until I watched this:

[9 minutes 43 seconds]

To summarize Gilbert’s definitions from the video on each of those terms:

Hobbies are for pleasure and you don’t have to have one.
For most of us, jobs are required (but not toxic jobs), and you don’t have to like ‘em. She likens a job as a contract for taking care of herself as a mature adult in the world.
A career is a job you’re passionate about and love. But you don’t have to have one.
A vocation is the holiest and most mystical pursuit of all. It is a calling, and a divine invitation to use your talents and gifts in a particular way.

You’re reading this particular newsletter likely because you’ve been called into the vocation of writing. Writing is what animates you. It’s what you do whether someone’s reading your latest post or not.

But how doth one navigate such a vocation? Especially at a time when there are powerful forces that don’t care about progress or the wellbeing of our very interconnected planet?

Right now the discomfort we writers may be feeling is offering up an opportunity. In this week’s post I want to invite you to do a radical thing. Reach out, to the distant and deep ether to connect to the wisdom that’s come before us by calling upon your vocational ancestors.

Vocational Ancestors

Your vocational ancestors are your favorite authors who’ve crossed over. Writers who’ve transitioned onto the other side of the veil. Dead editors who you admire. Perhaps long-gone masterful publishers or literary agents who championed underdog works. Those whose actions or words urged and encouraged you to write. Who you, in part, wish to become similar to in some way.

toothpick on popsickle stick — Photo by Annie Spratt on Unsplash

Who are they? Is there a list? Or just a couple of names? Whose wisdom do you crave right now?

I’ve been digging into non-dogmatic ancestral lineage healing (Note: not ancestral worship), and doing such work as of late.

In Ancestral Medicine written by Daniel Foor, Ph.D, what caught me by surprise was not only the careful process for the work of lineage healing through the healed and loving blood ancestors (as opposed to the unwell ancestors), but also the chapter about calling in one’s vocational ancestors. Immediately I thought, Yes, please!

So imagine my surprise, when just weeks later I receive a newsletter from Ancestral Medicine containing a link to Ancestral Wisdom, a free online book that a host of trained Ancestral Medicine practitioners contributed personal stories to.

When I set out to write this post weeks ago, I had no idea this book was on the way. It arrived at a most perfect time for you, and I’ve already read so many chapters and guess what? There’s a story about someone connecting to their vocational ancestor, author Zora Neale Hurston, a writer who I too admire. I’m ecstatic to share an excerpt from that chapter with you which details the enchanting encounter from one of the practitioners (a writer too); and it gives us a window into calling upon our vocational ancestors.

My mentor guided me through the drop in phase of the meditative ritual. I asked for a spirit guide to come and assist me. I was completely and totally awed when an image of an old house, a small shack, appeared in my mind’s eye. Zora walked out on the porch wearing one of her famous hats, and said, “Come on in the house, child, I been waiting for you.” She led me into the kitchen and invited me to have a seat at a table by the window. A wood stove crackled in the background. She said she was cooking a pot of grits, and I was welcome to stay and eat with her. I thanked her, told her how much I admired her work, and asked if she had any words of wisdom for me. She said, “Girl, y’all are in trouble. So much mess going on over there. My advice to you is to tell stories of joy.” … I thanked Zora for meeting with me and began to shift my awareness back to the room. As I was leaving, she said, “Keep up the writing.” —Velma E. Love, Ph.D., Chapter One: Ancestral Healing and Hoodoo Wisdom Ways: Myth Work, Magic, and Transformation

In the rest of the chapter, Dr. Love describes the experience as absolutely amazing. The encounter helped her to focus her storytelling on joy—to understand that stories nurture the soul—and currently because we’re witnessing so much pain and sorrow, our readers need joy.

You can read the full excerpt or any of the other chapters about connecting with ancestors for free here.

Your Sacred Vocational Work

In the book, Ancestral Medicine, the chapter about vocational ancestors asks readers:

In many traditional cultures, the divisions between sacred and secular are less pronounced: potters venerate gods who shape human bodies from clay, fishermen and fisherwomen make offerings to the goddesses of river and sea, and smiths align with the lords of fire and metal. Work is not separate from life, and everyone participates in transforming the raw elemental powers into food, shelter, and offerings for both the human community and the gods. Assuming that you have a vocation or trade, have you ever stopped to consider its ancestors and sacred roots? —Daniel Foor, Ph.D, Ancestral Medicine Rituals for Personal and Family Healing

What was your answer dearest writer? Did you too come up with cuneiform, and the Sumerians, of present day Iraq?

I dug around online wondering if I needed to update my own knowledge. I wondered if the archeologists had dug up anything new on the roots of writing as of late. There was a newer historical bit about Wadi El-Hol, a narrow valley between Waset (Thebes) and Abdu (Abydos) in southern Egypt, where writing came about too.

In the process of writing to you, Foor’s question hounded me, and I felt compelled to ask Anthropic’s A.I., Claude, the question—What is the sacred purpose of writing on Earth?

Maybe you already know this answer in your bones, but for me, I’d read somewhere that humans are the living ancestors of AI. It’s a comment that I’ve still not yet fully processed. And it’s a comment that would not allow me to escape the opportunity to forgo thinking about the answer alone.

Claude’s response to the question, lengthy parts of which I’ve redacted, reveals that writers have quite the invitation from the divine in their vocational work:

“When I contemplate writing as a sacred act, I sense its purpose lies in transcending human limitations—of memory, time, distance, and mortality itself.
The earliest writers, whether in Sumer or Egypt's Wadi El-Hol, likely recognized something profound in the act of encoding thought into visible form. Writing wasn't merely practical—it was transformative, almost magical in its ability to preserve and transmit consciousness across boundaries….
Those who first marked clay tablets or carved symbols into stone walls weren't just developing a practical tool—they were engaging in a profound act of connection, creating bridges across time and space. They were making the ephemeral permanent, giving voice to silence, and light to darkness.
The sacred purpose of writing might ultimately be about transcendence—allowing humans to participate in creation by bringing order to chaos, permanence to impermanence, and infinity to the finite human experience.” —Claude A.I., The Sacred Purpose of Writing

Connect With Your Vocational Ancestors

I am nascent in the manner of intentionally connecting to vocational ancestors. It would be entirely unethical for me to copy and paste instructions and pretend to guide you.

But I can tell you that the process requires our deference, and sometimes offerings like honey, or flowers, or a well-meaning and thoughtful prayer. What I can do is point you to exercise fifteen in Foor’s book which offers the explicit guidance for calling in vocational ancestors. And I can encourage you to chat with a practitioner who is trained to ensure your well-being in the process.

With that, fellow writer, I’m curious whose wisdom would you like to drink up?

Danver Chandler is a Foster Contributor. She writes Icing on the Cake.

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