Amethyst: A Recent Personal Experience

One late night last week I had a definite, profound experience with one of my crystals, a rough piece of an amethyst geode. The stone is considered ‘rough’ as it has not been run through a tumbler machine to smooth its edges and surfaces. The geode description speaks to the formation, appearance, and configuration of the crystal cluster.

At the bottom of the amethyst chunk there is a green, purple, and white stone base. Research tells me this is some sort of volcanic or sedimentary rock. Based on the slightly curved triangular shape of the base material, I venture to guess that this cluster was part of a larger piece of geode, or hollow spheroidal rock, with crystals lining its interior. The color of the amethyst is mostly a deep purple, with lighter variations towards the bottom of the stone where it is connected to its base.

The piece of Amethyst I worked with. Notice the distinct sides, and the thin pink barrier between the two.

I did not choose this stone, but rather it was chosen for me. This crystal, along with several other surprise items, was included in the packaging with my purchase of a Selenite sphere, wooden stand, and peacock feathers from The Velvet Lotus on Etsy. The depth of color and intricate composition of crystal formations left me quite smitten with the amethyst when I saw it for the first time.

So, yeah, about my experience. I had been feeling crabby, cranky, and downright cantankerous for the better part of the evening. I tried to get some writing done but found myself distracted at every turn. Between my overactive imagination and catching my eight year old son sneaking a turn on the tablet after what was supposed to be his bedtime, I couldn’t seem to catch a break. In retrospect, I should have worked out, or took a shower, perhaps both. It would have done me good to have a change of scenery, and allow my mind and energy to have a “woosah” moment, a chance to breath fresh air and regroup. But you know how it is sometimes when you are bent on completing several tasks at hand. A glaze comes over the eyes, the scope of vision takes on the form of a tunnel, and nothing else will do. The antics of my son were the final straw that broke this camel’s back. I gave up on the writing I had been straining to eek out over the last several hours. I closed my notebook, the sight of it’s two halves serving as sentry for the sense of regret that stole into my thought space at that moment. Not a single piece of work that I hoped to have finished had actually gotten done. I went to bed in a dejected huff.

I was inconsolably agitated, a fact I shared with my significant other. The sweet man, sensing my desperation, admitted that he too felt tense, and went into Mr. Fix-It mode. He asked me questions about the origin of my wicked internal ambiance. Such was the influence of my detestable feelings that I even ruminated on his posits in an irritable manner, and then replied to him with a testy “I don’t know”. Ultimately, though, my spouses loving entreaties did lead me to confess that my bloomers were partly bunched by the fact that I’d achieved no success in completing my soon-to-be blog posts and partly by my notion that I should be much farther along in the process than I was. This lead to more inquiries from my lover-turned-sage, his attention now turned towards the topic of what was to be my inaugural post. He followed with a synopsis of what he felt the subject matter should be, as a means to guide me back onto my writer’s path since my answers seemed to indicate that I had gone astray. Though they were well meaning, I shot his questions down with arrows dipped in venom. I did not want to think any longer about the unsung epics that lay in wait beneath my anxious fingertips. I felt bad, and my stomach was upset. My most pertinent desire, at that instant, was to be free from the dull discomfort that had coiled itself about my aura and wormed it’s way into my solar plexus.

Now, this whole time I’d been having a thought to grab one of my crystals from the makeshift altar situated conveniently on the second shelf of the bookcase in my bedroom. The word I kept hearing in my mind was “amethyst”. The “voice” was persistent, but not in a belligerent way. I knew I was in a tizzy because I didn’t even want to get out of bed to grab the stone. Usually, I jump at the chance to heed a call from my intuition. That signal, however, went ignored from the time I put my notebook to sleep through the duration of my love’s inquisition. I finally gave up the resistance effort and crawled from beneath my fluffy, cloud like comforter to retrieve the beckoning specimen.

I returned to my post beneath the security of my bed covers to undertake the task of discerning where I should place the stone on my body, and how. First I tried my upper belly where the tension seemed to make its nest. Flat on the smooth side for a bit, then eventually resting on its pointed surface in these manners I held the cool stone to my warm skin. I had success with a previous application of a tumbled piece of Citrine in this same spot before, so I figured it was as good a place to start as any. I gave both positions about five minutes a piece with no result before I moved the crystal to a spot in the middle of my forehead, home of my third eye. The inspiration behind that action reminded me that amethyst is a stone associated with the third eye and crown chakras. I placed the stone, semi-smooth side down, to my brow and waited. Eventually it became clear to me that what I needed to do was focus on the crystal upon my forehead, and not upon the fire within my belly. Certainly this was a chore because of the persistent ache lording itself over my abdomen. Yet I remained steadfast in my efforts and willed my concentration to visit only upon my slow and steady breaths and the sensation of the refreshing stone against my welcoming skin. In a matter of minutes I felt what I can only describe as a “tingle” that started in the center of my forehead. At first I imagined the sensation was due to some errant loc or fingertip. But after checking, I discovered neither hand nor hair was the object of blame. I was actually receiving something from the amethyst. The more I became aware of the feeling the more it grew in liveliness. The pulsing vibration then began to grow through my head space, if you can dig it, and proceeded down my spinal column. In my mental eye I saw a bright purple light emitted from the amethyst into and through my physical and auric being. I did not intend this visualization; it simply came to me. The purple fire moved from my ajna to just beyond the middle of my spine in swelling tendrils. The experience was entirely electrifying, and more than a little bit ticklish. I started to giggle to myself, but deigned to hold the chuckles in so as not to disperse the roving amethyst energies. In hindsight, I think the release of laughter would have been as natural a response as any, and nothing bad would have come of letting that happen. I just didn’t want the moment to end prematurely, and sought to bask in it as long as would be allowed. The vibrations danced through and down the pathways of my central nervous system at such a rate that I could not help but to squirm beneath its presence. After nearly ten minutes of this jitterbug with amethyst as the lead, I retired the stone to a place near my pillow. I could take no more of the energy exchange without bursting into song and dance myself.

What made this moment so poignant is that I have never had such an experience with any of my crystals before. I read documents and watched YouTube videos that said I could, would, and maybe should be experiencing something of the sort with my crystals the longe I had them and the more I got to know them. In truth, however, whether from wearing them as jewelry or by meditation, I had never actually felt an energetic response to any of the crystals I have. Moreover, the experiment allowed me to direct my focus on something outside of the ugly internal situation I so desperately wanted to be rid of. Instead of concentrating on a perception of negativity, I channeled my energies to create the reality I desired.

We think we are doing good by wishing that thing we despise away so vehemently. But, in actuality, such actions feed the beast and give it mental milk to suckle upon until it festers into a nightmare that viciously hounds us. Rather, we should redirect our thoughts towards the desired ideal, and by doing so allow the life we want to germinate and bloom like seeds planted after the final frost of winter’s end.

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