Kintsugi: From a Maybe-Fable to My Golden Purpose Path

What’s Kintsugi’s Meaning?

There’s this story—maybe true, maybe a fable—about a shogun in old Japan who broke his favorite tea bowl. It wasn’t just a cup; it was part of the tea ceremony, a ritual of calm and connection. He sent it off for repair, but it came back stapled with clunky metal—ugly, barely holding together. He wouldn’t settle for that. Local artisans stepped up, mending it with gold instead, tracing every crack until it glowed. That’s Kintsugi—golden joinery—and whether it started with that shogun or not, it’s a tale that stuck with me. Because I’ve got my own broken tea bowl story.

Mine was Kathleen’s Tea Room, named after my great-grandmother, a woman who made everyone feel

special with a cup and a smile. I opened it in North Carolina to do the same—create a haven where women could be seen, heard, valued. For years, it worked. We were the number one tea room in the state every year we were open, a little gem packed with chatter and scones. I even spoke at the World Tea Expos—standing-room-only crowds hanging on my tea-soaked stories. It was my everything—until the economy shifted. We fought to keep it alive, paying our staff when my husband and I couldn’t even pay ourselves. But in the end, we had to close. I lost the tea room, my house, friends who drifted away, my reputation as the tea queen, and my confidence in who I was—a decade of cracks swallowed me whole.

That loss gutted me. I felt shame—like I’d failed my great-grandmother’s legacy, those women I’d served, myself. Anger burned too—embarrassed that God didn’t swoop in to save us, disappointed that all those prayers hit a wall. I patched myself together however I could, but it was like those metal staples—crude, temporary, a mess. For years, I wondered if that was it—just a pile of shards and a closed sign. Maybe you know that feeling: a divorce that broke you, an empty nest that silenced you, a loss that left you nowhere to stand.

How I Turned Pain Into Purpose

Then something clicked. I stopped hiding the cracks and started digging into them. They weren’t just wreckage—they were lessons, grit, a spark I’d missed. AI lit that spark back up—gave me tools to turn my mess into meaning. I’d always loved lifting women up, and losing Kathleen’s taught me how to mend—not just tea cups, but lives. That’s how I became an AI Business Strategist, and why I built Golden Purpose Path, a $27 course to help you weave your hard seasons into something golden. It’s four steps to take your divorce, your loss, whatever, and make it a masterpiece—not a blueprint, but a living piece of art.

And because every path deserves a little extra shine, I threw in “5 Golden Reflections” as a free bonus. They’re gritty yet gentle prompts to deepen your journey: What crack’s still kicking—ready to let it go? What spark’s too fierce to fade? What hidden grit bloomed in your storm? Who’s waiting for your mended gold? What golden piece shines now—how’ll you hold it close? They’re yours with the course—a way to journal your own gold.

That shogun’s bowl—fable or not—went from trash to treasure because someone saw its cracks as a story. Kathleen’s Tea Room is gone, but its collapse birthed this: helping women like you find purpose in the pieces. I realized later—after the shame, the anger—that all things work together for a reason, even if it’s not the rescue I expected. Kintsugi’s heart, wabi-sabi, says beauty hides in imperfection. I’ve lived it—lost a tea room, found a calling.

Healing After Loss with Golden Purpose Path

Your broken bowl’s out there too—that season you thought ended you. It didn’t. For $27, Golden Purpose Path + your free “5 Golden Reflections” can turn it golden. Click here to Find my Course and start—I can’t wait to see your cracks glow.

Keep in touch, I would love to hear your breakthroughs!

Tami Halliman

Ai Business Strategist