Tomorrow will mark our sixth session of our beloved brainchild, MentHerShip. It’s hard to believe this event, like so many great movements before it, started with a good idea and ten willing participants with nothing better to do on a Tuesday night than share a box of cheap wine and air their grievances. Though MentHerShip has grown exponentially in size and impact over the past two years, its open and earnest heart beats on in the gatherings today.

No matter how deeply Hannah and I establish our “roots” in Vancouver, we will always be two women who moved west after high school with very few guarantees, friends, and promises of a steady income. In a city that can feel lonely, it’s our shared outsider spirit that compels us to welcome everyone in.

MentHerShip is not a networking event and this isn’t just because we don’t wear name tags or serve punch. Side note: I’ve always firmly believed that a person can rock a lot of looks, but a name tag is not one of them.

It’s not a perfect evening. It’s not scripted or overly styled. In fact, we still roll up the cowhide rug our dogs nap on in our office and use it as our stage. MentHerShip is a living thing with a mind and direction of its own. Each event is different every time because of the kinetic energy of the brave collective people who agree to mostly standing room. The conversations change and meander, simmer and surprise. Our guests are unflappably fantastic and up for improv.

But the true beauty of the night lies in the little pockets of chaos only two people who are not even partially qualified event planners could orchestrate. Taking two hours to set up a mic system and realizing no one brought batteries, so reverting to yelling instead. Running out of Sauvignon Blanc and having the Doordash guy join in on the event mid-conversation. Having the venue email us the day before the event and let us know they’ve gone out of business but wish us the very best.

The cracks in things are where the lights get in, someone wise once said. I’m just kidding, I know Leonard Cohen said that. Nothing could be a truer synopsis of what this evening is about.

Wednesday night’s topic is a bright one, “The Road to Joy.” Led by the kind, charismatic and deeply careered Jen Murtagh, it’s sure to be a conversational cannon bomb you won’t forget. When discussing this topic, a podcast I recently listened to by Elizabeth Gilbert (I know, her again?) came to mind. She was discussing the difference between four often intertwined but undeniably distinct concepts; a hobby, job, career, and calling.

If you’re interested in hearing this concept explained more eloquently than what is about to follow, you can listen to the full episode here.

It basically breaks down to this: “A hobby is something that you do because it’s fun and you like it and you don’t need anything back from it. A job is a thing you have because everyone has to have one. It doesn’t need to fulfill your emotional life because you can have a job and a life outside of your job.
A career is something you should be passionate about. A career is a job that you deeply care about. That’s the difference between a career and a job. The last one is vocation, which is a sacred calling of something that is very holy to you that is the centre of your life. It can never be taken away from you no matter what.”

I couldn’t help but recall my own troubled path to employment and how all of that pressure gets tangled into the question, “How can I find joy in what I do?” Through Liz’s wise words, I can see things much more clearly.

I had never much cared for work.

When I was a child, you’d have to threaten me with starvation and French braids to have me make my bed or empty the dishwasher. When I was a teenager the longest tango I had with a part-time job lasted less than a month. I left the marketing centre because I hated calling people as much as they hated answering my phone calls. I left the restaurant because I started dating the bartender (sorry mom). I left the car dealership because I hated organizing my creepy bosses’ chocolate collection.

None of these were a career, calling, or even marginally close to a vocation. They were jobs, plain and simple. And that’s okay. Jobs are necessary. It took me decades of learning to figure out how to craft a career (Roots + Ardor) and how to identify a calling from the noise of daily task lists (MentHerShip). It might take you half that time, or double, and that’s okay too.

The lesson in the struggle is that you may not love to work, but you will have to work to find what you love. The joy in it is that we’re all in that jungle gym together.

See you tomorrow.

- R+A

MentHerShip in Retrospect Ahead of Volume 6

Start the engine.

Acknowledgement