A few years ago, after a hard breakup, I channeled most of my feelings into learning about astrology, which is how I ended up downloading the CHANI app to listen to astrologer Chani Nicholas’ weekly readings. What better way to find comfort in your next steps than by discovering what’s already written in the stars?
Notably, much of my chart is centered on my career, but Nicholas doesn’t always use that term in her readings. Instead, she uses “vocation,” a word that has become even more distinct to me in recent years.
A vocation can be a job. But more often, it’s life’s work—something worthy that you strive toward with great dedication. It can be paid, but it might not be, because the things that beckon us don’t always make money. Yet we respond anyway. And sometimes it’s better that way. Freer.
I bring this up because heading into the holidays and the start of 2026, I was thinking a lot about vocations (and astrology, to be honest). That time of year is always reflective, and many friends were voicing their frustration or worry over their career paths. Over and over, on walks and at ugly sweater parties, I heard calls to do something meaningful alongside concern that no job would ever be enough. Shared restlessness was as abundant as mulled wine.
In that purgatory between Christmas and New Year’s, I began wondering: What if, growing up or in school, we had used vocation in place of careers? Would we pursue impact and meaning differently if we lived by a more expansive definition than the work you do to make a living?
I have no doubt the answer is yes—because I’ve seen the reach of a vocation firsthand.
In November, I drove to Michigan to stay with my grandmother for a week. Just the two of us, in a cold beach town running errands and watching old musicals. I brought my sewing machine.
My grandma sewed nightgowns and doll clothes for me growing up, but hasn’t sewn in years. The one thing I wanted her to teach me was how to make the blankets we’d had as kids. They began as quilted pillows that unfolded into cozy throws. You could tuck your feet into the pillow-square pocket as you lounged.
We called them magic pillows, because that’s what they were: magic.
In her career, my grandma, a mom of four, was an educator. She used to sew magic pillows to raise money for her preschool in Illinois—the kids, their education, clearly mattered to her. And of course, she continued making the pillows because we all loved them so much. A matching pair she made for me in college still sits in my living room.
This fall, we completed my first magic pillow together, her helping me lay out fabric or watching me pin, answering questions. She stepped away as I sewed to hand-write the directions for me for future use.
The same handwriting in my recipe books and holiday cards.
At dinner, she told me the story of how she’d first learned to make this wonderful thing—the thing that had supported educations, defined my childhood, and defined her for me.
Sewing was a vocation for her—one of many, I’m sure. A life’s work, yielding a legacy of care alongside a career spent raising children, her own and others’. I know that because I’ve physically and emotionally held her impact over the years. Meaning, dedication, initiative, worth, and love are all quilted into those squares.
Vocations often show up in the things we do without being asked, the things we keep doing even when there’s no payoff. And in my experience, it yields a far, far bigger endowment than what I was promised on career day, and is much more in my control to achieve, since I’m the one writing the job description.
Throughout 2026, I plan to think less about what I do for a living and more about what I’m being asked to give. How I can spend my time and energy supporting the people and the causes that I love. My call. I hope you’ll join me.
And if you don’t know what your vocation is yet, that’s okay. I know this really great astrology app…
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