Musings

Bottled Up Faerie Dust

There’s a store in Downtown Burlington called Spirit Dancer. The entire place is filled with stones and gems and faerie dust and crystals. Walking in, you catch a whiff of lavender coming from the right side of the store. Glass cases by the counter and in the middle of the store have expensive jewelry and $100 quartz crystals locked inside. All the stones and gems are in dishes along the wall, each with their own meaning and price. There are pendants and bracelets, zodiacs and birthstones, cage necklaces and crystal skulls. It’s entrancing, peaceful, and reminds me of my grandmother.

I get paid next week and one of the things I really want to do before going home is buy two bottles of faerie dust–one for me and one for her. They’re $10 a bottle and small, but they come on a chain so you can keep them around your neck. Wrapped around the top of the bottle is a small fairy–the only thing I have to decide is what color to get her.

My grandmother was the one who got me interested in this sort of stuff. She gave me a quartz crystal that she had sitting on a shelf by her staircase. There were a few of them, but this one in particular stood out to me. It was a bit larger than all the rest–probably a little smaller than the length of my hand–and would have been horribly expensive to buy in a store. Crystals that size were selling for $50-$75 at Spirit Dancer. But I was drawn to them. There was one locked in a case that was absolutely astounding. It was clear, with an almost-perfectly-formed point, and was locked in a case with crystal balls. But it was hundreds of dollars, a price unaffordable by most struggling college students.

I settled on one that had been sitting on the counter. $22, still a little pricey, but it felt right. There’s some kind of energy you get from picking up the right stone, the right crystal, the right pendant. You can look through as many as you want, but there’s only one that feels like it fits you. It feels like it belongs with you, in your hands, in your house. I couldn’t help but buy it. I’ve got it sitting in the windowsill of my room now, letting it catch the sunlight.

When I was perusing the four shelves of stones, I found a dish of malachite: stones with swirling patterns and varying shades of green. I had initially picked up a rather flat one that could be held easily in my fingers. I carried it around the store for awhile and, since malachite is said to protect against negative presences, I thought it would be nice to keep in my wallet. As I got to the counter, I noticed there were pendants and bracelets to the side. The friend I was with was looking for garnet and rose quartz and initially I was looking for something blue, maybe aquamarine. I found a turquoise one and a tigers eye one–and in between was one made of malachite.

I’ve had it on my wrist every day since then. The crystal I bought is in my windowsill and I think of my grandmother every time I look at them. I miss being in her house sometimes. It’s got such a great energy, much like the one I felt when I was in the store. Maybe that’s part of why I love it so much. It gets a little dicey, sometimes, when I try to talk to my boyfriend about it. He doesn’t believe in healing stones and crystals–but I do. And he’s willing to let me have them around the apartment/house once we’re out of college because of how much it means to me. That’s all I could ever ask for.

 

(P.S. Once I’ve got enough money and a stable place to live, I’m buying one of those $100 crystals. They’re too gorgeous to forget.)

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