Rooted Return

The clay refuses to obey.It slumps, cracks, leans like a drunk dancer.Maya's hands stay on it anyway.Her teacher does not say "Do better."He says, "Feel the earth's pulse. Wholeness is not in the perfect bowl.It is in the hand that refuses to abandon the collapse." This book is written in the wobble.It is for every person who has ever believed they must become unbroken before they deserve to be loved.For every nervous system that still flinches at loud voices,every heart that still checks the exits before it checks in.For every human who has mistaken self-betrayal for maturityand performance for worth. You will meet the woman who quit her six-figure job to teach pottery to nurses on night shifts.The CEO who fixes radios for widows because his heart now beats slower when his hands remember why they exist.The couple who no longer promise "forever," only "today—and today I still choose you." This is not a book about fixing your cracks.It is a book about learning that the cracks are where the light has always lived.That wholeness is not a destination on the far side of flawless.It is the quiet, daily courage to say:I am already home in this imperfect body.I can love from here.I can stay from here.I can begin again from here. The wheel still spins.The bowl still wobbles.Your hand stays on the clay. This is where wholeness begins.