In traditional myth and literature, a “calling” usually describes a character’s strong urge to pursue a specific path. In his book, The Hero with a Thousand Faces, Joseph Campbell formalized the term as the first stage of the hero’s journey: “The call to adventure signifies that destiny has summoned the hero.”
As Campbell later pointed out, this call to adventure appears in many of our most popular stories, and it is still evident today in our most popular films. When Harry Potter receives his letter to Hogwarts, he is faced with his calling. He has no idea what awaits him, but his simple acceptance of the call marks the beginning of his journey to heroism.
Since Campbell’s ideas gained popularity, many people have used the template of the “hero’s journey” to try to understand their own life paths, regardless of where they started. As Campbell notes about the hero’s journey, the call often leads the hero “out of the land we know into darkness.” We might not be gearing up to fight Voldemort, but in our everyday lives, following a “calling” can feel like facing an immense battle.
Business as a Vocation
I started Maya Belle Jewelry in 2006 in a studio in Manayunk, PA, and later moved to Etsy in 2011. Since Etsy is a global marketplace—and back then, when it was just starting, it was truly a place where artists made handmade work—I had customers from all over the world. Many people asked me if I could make “this or that,” and the requests were often random. If I could do it, I did; if I couldn’t, I would learn how. Back then, I never said, “No.”
Eventually, a repeat customer asked if I could make jewelry from her child’s fingerprint. I said I would try. I found some mold material, sent it to her, and created my first set of fingerprint jewelry. I loved how the details of the piece—the child’s fingerprint swirls—were utterly unique.
The process also brought back memories of my younger self, when I collected the most random items — tree bark, rocks and stones, or pinecones — to remember the important people and animals in my life. With the object in my hand, I felt I could somehow hold onto the memory of the person or animal—somehow, I could stay in a specific moment in time.
After creating my first fingerprint mold of a child’s finger, I was inspired to create more. I started molding pets’ noses and paw prints — a collection of animal keepsakes. Once again, customers asked me if I could create molds for “this or that,” including an assortment of animals — dogs and cats, as well as horses, birds, a rabbit, a gerbil, and even a chicken. And once again, I never said, “No.”
Of course, my goal was to advance in the business world, but as I pursued that goal, I often recognized another, perhaps more important one: to serve others.
Even though I was working with many people around the world and helping them with deeply personal pieces, I was oddly missing a one-on-one, human connection. I worked in my studio, mostly alone, day after day. I did in-person shows before, but given the custom nature of my pieces, the shows were not practical. I truly wanted to continue my work, but I knew I needed a deeper human connection.
I loved my work, and since quitting wasn’t an option for me, I decided to open myself to new things that spoke to me.
A Calling to Volunteer: David Kessler’s Grief Certification Course
In Campbell’s version of the hero’s journey, service is usually framed as an opportunity for self-transformation. When I first encountered David Kessler’s Grief Certification course, I wasn't entirely sure what I was doing or why, and several members of my team questioned my decision to pursue a Grief Educator Certification.
“You’re an artist,” one team member said. “You’re not a therapist.”
The two may not seem at odds, at first glance, but as so often in life, I’ve found “where attention goes, energy flows.” This quote, often attributed to James Redfield (author of The Celestine Prophecy) and popularized by Tony Robbins, essentially defines my dilemma: for much of my “career,” instead of building my business, as I want to do, I have spent most of my time and energy in what I see as my calling: service.
I earn enough money through my business to cover my bills, which has always brought me a sense of happiness. But what matters most to me is serving others. Rather than feeling “heroic,” I find service to be immensely humbling, and I’m often slow to admit this true source of inspiration when speaking to members of the business community and my own business team, who have often seen little connection between my volunteer life and my business life.
Of course, to me, the connection or, more accurately, continuum is obvious. Whether I’m making a pendant of a beloved father’s fingerprint or volunteering at the Center for Loss and Bereavement, I am dedicated to walking alongside others who have lost loved ones (like myself). Grief is not something to “fix,” but rather to witness and support.
Reframing Grief Narratives
In my volunteer work, I often discuss the popular cliché of “moving on from grief.” In reality, we don't simply move on from grief; we move with it, finding meaning and living a more peaceful and hopeful life. In this context, many who face grief can also discover new ways to reframe the intense emotions that can often stop us in our tracks.
Joseph Campbell’s “Hero’s Journey” is just one way to view this reframe. At its core, the heroic journey is about the stories we tell—both to others and to ourselves.
Facing grief with open eyes is, essentially, confronting a story. One way to “move with” grief is to reframe the narrative of loss to highlight our deep gratitude for the life our loved one experienced. It is not easy, not at all, but no genuine journey, heroic or not, is easy—whether you’re a small business owner or Harry Potter.
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