Enshrouded in mist and mystery, removed physically and temporally, the stone hut holds promise and my future. I have never been there, but I cannot unsee it. The cool touch of the walls sends shivers up my spine, the rustling wind blasts back my hair each time the vision comes. To visit my final resting place, I only need to tune into the rhythms of my heart, the waves of my brain, the inevitability of my journey. For someone who believed that they knew their calling at a very young age, the subsequent decades failed mightily to connect me to the destiny of my seemingly preordained profession.