An Invitation
Invitation
As you reach the end of this work, I want to offer you an invitation — not to adopt a doctrine, not to memorize a framework, not to agree with me, but to make Relational Anthropology your home.
Find it inside you.
Apply it to your life.
Carry it with you like a companion.
Show it your baggage.
Introduce it to your demons and your skeletons.
Ask for its help in understanding the responses you have to things you can’t yet name, can’t yet articulate, can’t yet speak aloud.
Let it sit beside you when you’re budgeting.
Let it whisper questions when you’re stuck in traffic.
Let it help you decode why your coworker’s email made your chest tighten.
Let it join you when you’re trying to figure out what’s wrong with your car.
Let it walk with you into the conversations you’ve been avoiding.
And please — share it with your colleagues.
Especially the ones you think will hate it.
(Trust me, I have my suspicions about how that will actually go.)
This work is not meant to be protected.
It is meant to be tested.
Stretched.
Argued with.
Expanded.
Corrected.
Lived.
By all means, tell me I’m wrong.
Not in meme‑driven antagonism or performative debate,
but in earnest —
so we can build this together.
Critique is not a threat to this framework.
It is its nourishment.
It is how the spiral deepens.
It is how the field evolves.
It is how the work becomes wiser than its author.
I cannot critique this well enough on my own.
I don’t want to.
Relational systems require relationship.
Thank you for sharing this morning with me.
Thank you for trusting the fever dream.
Thank you for letting the work arrive the way it wanted to.
Thank you for being part of the lineage this book will create.
The spiral continues from here.
Survivor Literacy 
What do you think?