Carry What Changed You
Some stones wait.
This larimar was purchased on my first trip to the Dominican Republic, from a local merchant, during a decade of work alongside an NGO in Río Piedra—a rural, mixed Haitian and Dominican community where families lived in corrugated tin homes, often without running water. We built houses. Taught children. Planted gardens. Shared meals. Learned names. Learned limits. Learned what solidarity really costs—and gives.
I bought this stone intentionally for jewelry, but when I returned home, I couldn’t touch it.
It carried too much.
For years, it sat unfinished—until I found a setting that didn’t try to tame it.
Now, this large larimar—approximately 1” tall x .5” wide x 0.25” deep—is held in a sterling silver claw setting that allows the tone to remain the center of gravity. The open, sculptural back honors both the material and the story behind it. Nothing hidden. Nothing overly polished.
This piece is not about perfection.
It’s about bearing witness—to place, to people, to the moments that alter who we become.
Wear it if you understand that adornment can also be remembrance.
Larimar is found only in the Dominican Republic. Its oceanic blues and soft white marbling are often associated with:
emotional healing
calm after upheaval
truth-telling
compassion without erasure
It’s sometimes called the stone of the Caribbean, but for me, this one is the stone of returning changed.
Carry What Changed You
Some stones wait.
This larimar was purchased on my first trip to the Dominican Republic, from a local merchant, during a decade of work alongside an NGO in Río Piedra—a rural, mixed Haitian and Dominican community where families lived in corrugated tin homes, often without running water. We built houses. Taught children. Planted gardens. Shared meals. Learned names. Learned limits. Learned what solidarity really costs—and gives.
I bought this stone intentionally for jewelry, but when I returned home, I couldn’t touch it.
It carried too much.
For years, it sat unfinished—until I found a setting that didn’t try to tame it.
Now, this large larimar—approximately 1” tall x .5” wide x 0.25” deep—is held in a sterling silver claw setting that allows the tone to remain the center of gravity. The open, sculptural back honors both the material and the story behind it. Nothing hidden. Nothing overly polished.
This piece is not about perfection.
It’s about bearing witness—to place, to people, to the moments that alter who we become.
Wear it if you understand that adornment can also be remembrance.
Larimar is found only in the Dominican Republic. Its oceanic blues and soft white marbling are often associated with:
emotional healing
calm after upheaval
truth-telling
compassion without erasure
It’s sometimes called the stone of the Caribbean, but for me, this one is the stone of returning changed.
