Most of us spend the first half of life building. The career, the family, the name, the version of ourselves that gets approved of. It works. And then one day the story you built your life around stops feeling like yours, and you couldn't say when it happened.
What I've found, in my own life and in this work, is that the story on top is only the surface. The self you set aside to stay functional is still down there, and it's the one quietly making your decisions. The part that knew things, wanted things, sensed early that it was here for something. That part didn't die. It's been waiting for you to come back for it.
You're not the first to go down after it. Joseph, thrown in the pit that turned out to be the beginning of him. Jacob, wrestling through the night and limping out with a new name. Read closely, the old stories are maps of this exact descent. Down into what you buried, and back up carrying it. Mandorla is that map, laid out as a path you can walk.
And on the way up, something returns. The gift you always half-suspected was yours. You remember it. The thing you knew, before anyone taught you otherwise, that you were here to do.
You didn't lose who you are. You buried it to keep going. This work is how you remember.