And Still, I Arrived is not a book of answers. It's not a manual, or a fix, or a map.
It's a quiet unfolding-a companion for the in-between moments,
for the thresholds we cross in silence,
for the versions of us that broke and rose again without an audience.

Structured around thirty-three chaptered transmissions,
woven with poems, reflections, and embodied truths,
this book invites the reader to stop rushing toward perfection
and start remembering who they've always been.

Oren K. Wilder writes with clarity and calm ferocity-
offering words that don't just sound good, but feel true.
Each page is a mirror, a breath, a place to pause and return to.

This book is for you if:

• you're tired of performing healing and want to live it

• you've outgrown the life you built to survive

• you feel like you're becoming someone new, but can't explain how

• you want to stop translating your truth into something more "acceptable"

• you're ready to rest without guilt, speak without shame, and love yourself without condition

And Still, I Arrived is not a story of arrival with confetti and applause.
It's the quiet knowing that says:
"I may not have done it perfectly.
But I'm here.
And that's enough."

More than a book-it's a rhythm.
More than a message-it's a remembering.
And if something in you feels like it's waking up just by reading this...
it's because it is.

You won't find a five-step plan here.
There's no spiritual bypassing, no neat resolutions,
no clever way to package your becoming.

Instead, And Still, I Arrived meets you where you actually are-
mid-process, mid-healing, mid-question.
It speaks to the version of you that's done pretending
but still learning how to speak without flinching.

This is a book for people who've already tried to be palatable.
For those who've outgrown old narratives,
old timelines,
old roles they were never meant to perform.
For the ones who stopped waiting for permission
and began listening to the voice within
that doesn't yell-
but knows.

There is space here for contradiction.
For softness and fire.
For exhaustion and expansion.
This book doesn't ask you to choose between them-
it simply asks you to stay with yourself
while all of it moves.

Each chapter is its own invitation-
to pause, to breathe, to name what's been unnamed.
To speak your boundary.
To return to your body.
To forgive the versions of you who didn't yet know how.

In the end, nothing here tells you what to become.
But everything here reminds you that you already are.

You didn't miss it.
You weren't late.
You arrived.

And that-
that is the proof.