Garnet - The Reserve
There comes a point when the fire almost appears to be out.
The flames have died and all that remains are embers glowing beneath the ash, holding heat deep within the coals.
Garnet feels deeply connected to this kind of quiet endurance.
Long associated with vitality, strength and the sustaining force of life, its deep red hues seem to belong to the parts of us that continue quietly beneath the surface. The reserves we draw upon when we feel depleted. The warmth that remains, even after we have spent so much of ourselves elsewhere.
I always seem to find myself reaching for Garnet when my energy feels depleted, motivation is waning or I simply need reminding of my own fortitude. Not as a way to push harder, but to come back into myself.
To ground.
To gather.
To restore what has been spent.
And perhaps this is one of autumn’s quieter lessons. Not only to release what has reached its end but also to gather ourselves back.
To tend our own hearth.
To protect our warmth.
To refuse to let the essential part of ourselves go out.
Because endurance rarely looks like a roaring fire.
Sometimes it is simply keeping one small ember alive until the light returns.
***
Confession time: there were originally three of these spheres. I was so utterly in love with them that one ended up in my personal collection... oops. Couldn't resist!
Garnet - The Reserve
There comes a point when the fire almost appears to be out.
The flames have died and all that remains are embers glowing beneath the ash, holding heat deep within the coals.
Garnet feels deeply connected to this kind of quiet endurance.
Long associated with vitality, strength and the sustaining force of life, its deep red hues seem to belong to the parts of us that continue quietly beneath the surface. The reserves we draw upon when we feel depleted. The warmth that remains, even after we have spent so much of ourselves elsewhere.
I always seem to find myself reaching for Garnet when my energy feels depleted, motivation is waning or I simply need reminding of my own fortitude. Not as a way to push harder, but to come back into myself.
To ground.
To gather.
To restore what has been spent.
And perhaps this is one of autumn’s quieter lessons. Not only to release what has reached its end but also to gather ourselves back.
To tend our own hearth.
To protect our warmth.
To refuse to let the essential part of ourselves go out.
Because endurance rarely looks like a roaring fire.
Sometimes it is simply keeping one small ember alive until the light returns.
***
Confession time: there were originally three of these spheres. I was so utterly in love with them that one ended up in my personal collection... oops. Couldn't resist!
