My first memory of beautiful stones is seventh grade science class. The geology study. Mr. T. passing out pieces of cardboard with rows of rocks glued and labeled onto them. Rose quartz is the one I remember, I appreciated that it was easily identified by its soft pinkness.
Ten years later, I met a woman with an unusual name who was to be my trainer at a new job. She shared the how and why she had she had chosen this name for herself and given up her birth name. I couldn't even imagine such a thing (Ha!). We talked for a long while, and when we finished sharing stories, she pulled out a pouch of stones and crystals. She placed pieces of rose quartz and tiger's eye in my hand saying, "You need these." I thought that she was very kind and quite "woo-woo," but I carried them in my pocket, just in case there was magic to be had.
Thirty years later, I still don't know what I believe about the powers of stones and crystals, aside from thinking that they're beautiful and I love getting lost looking into the light, lines, cuts and colors of them. There is a piece of smoky quartz sitting here next to me. Spotted at a booth in an art fair one day, it called to me.
I don't know, maybe, I hope so.
Jude nudged me into trying to stitch a crystal. First attempt. Eh. I suppose I should finish it and see, but there are already things that I know I should have done differently.
It's been ten or more years since I last saw that woman. At the time, she had changed her name to Ruby. I wonder who she is now?