Elevate Difference

Hyacinth Collection Crystal Moon Necklace

I was born March 23, 1980 at 1:30 a.m. in San Diego, California. This moment of happenstance means that I just made the cut for being the fire sign Aries, a bold astrological identification. This arbitrary timing is also the cause of my birthstone being Aquamarine, a barely-there blue resembling the clarity of the ocean in a place untouched by tourism like Lakshadweep. I find this fire and water coupling somewhat ironic, but take it to be an indicator of the fluid duality of my existence: I am both/and—not either/or—and the capricious conditions of my birth are enough proof for me.

I wonder what the moon looked like the first time my mother visited San Francisco. She was twenty-four years old, unmarried, and had a two-year old daughter from a marriage that didn’t work out. The man who took her to see the seals play near the Fisherman’s Wharf and for a nighttime walk across the Bay Bridge was my father, then an officer in the Navy. The two were introduced by shared friends in a bar at the San Diego Naval Base just months before and were enjoying each other’s company very much. It was on the bus back from Frisco that it occurred to my mother that her period was late.

I wonder what the moon looked like from the rust-colored bridge that summer. I wonder if my mom even noticed the moon, and if that had been a subconscious tip off that her cycle wasn’t following its typical twenty-eight-day routine. When my parents left the courthouse a month later—marriage certificate in one hand and my older sister in the other—what phase did the moon find itself in? How did the moon show itself on the day of my birth? Or when my dad left for Okinawa—a work assignment that doomed an already failing marriage? You see, the moon is a powerful thing. It gives us things of gravity, like wind and waves and the consistent marking of time as a circular, nonlinear entity.

When I wear Yumi Chen’s Crystal Moon necklace, I find myself looking from the moon on my chest to the one in the Indian night sky. The iridescent Swarovski crystal one is as dazzling as its predecessor and accompanied by just as much sparkling bling—from Aquamarine and Blue Zircon Swarovski crystals to glittery 14kt gold-filled beads on a likewise golden eighteen-inch chain. I marvel at their differing yet similar beauty and smile. When the moon is gone from my view, it is gracing that of my family and friends on the opposite side of the earth. I hope the daily visit from this ever-changing orb reminds them of me.

Yumi Chen is providing Feminist Review readers a 20% Discount off anything and everything on her website. The discount code is 'feminist20' and should be entered at the checkout. Might as well get some holiday shopping done early, right?

Written by: Mandy Van Deven, November 8th 2009

I'm a March 26th Aries, and the aquamarine stone always bothered me as well. I like the blue, but it's often so clear that it's rather dull.

It turns out that bloodstone is the original for March, though I can see why people prefer aquamarine. Bloodstone is dark green with flecks of red--hence the name. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Heliotrope_%28mineral%29

I wasn't entirely happy with that, either, until I found the necklace. It came from a small town in Massachusetts, James Russel Goldsmiths, and it still makes me happy to wear it. A smooth, dark green disk wrapped in silver. That shows the duality for me. Wild and dignified, hinting at something more. That's Aries for me.

This moon is lovely. High time they stopped making cutesy hearts for Aries!

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