Stones of Leo

12 stones.

Amber Transparent to cloudy honey-yellow through orange to deep red-brown, often with insects, bark or bubbles caught inside; rare green and blue forms exist. Amber is not stone. It is the resin of pine forests that stood tens of millions of years ago, hardened and washed out of the Baltic. Pliny knew this and said so, against the poets who called it the tears of Phaethon's sisters. It has been worn as a protective amulet longer than almost any other material, and Pliny reports it hung on infants for that reason. Warm a piece of amber in your closed hand until it is blood temperature. Say the name of somebody you have lost. Put it in your pocket.
Calcite Transparent to opaque in almost any colour: glass-clear as Iceland spar, and commonly honey yellow, orange, green, pale blue, pink or chalky white. Clear pieces show every line beneath them doubled. Calcite is the commonest carbonate on earth: limestone, marble, chalk, shell and stalactite are all this one mineral. It has little old lore, because it was never rare. What practice it has is modern and follows colour — yellow and orange to the Sun, green to Venus, blue to the Moon and the voice. Clear Iceland spar doubles anything seen through it, which Bartholin described in 1669. Wipe the dust off your calcite with a dry cloth. Name one thing in the house you have been meaning to throw out, and throw it out now.
Carnelian Translucent orange to deep red-brown, sometimes banded. Held up to a lamp it glows through like a coal; the darker brown material is usually called sard. Pliny calls it sarda, after Sardis where it was first cut, and notes the practical reason it filled Roman signet rings: hot wax does not stick to it. Egypt cut it into amulets for the dead. Islamic tradition prizes the aqiq ring above other stones. Everywhere it turns up it is a stone of doing rather than dreaming, the one you take to the thing you have been avoiding. Put it on the table beside your work. Do not touch it until you have done twenty minutes without stopping, then pick it up.
Citrine Transparent pale lemon through golden to a smoky madeira brown; most stones on sale are heat-treated amethyst and carry a faint reddish cast. Citrine is the tradition's stone of the open hand. It belongs to the Sun and, in later folk practice, to trade: dealers called it the merchant's stone and kept it in the till rather than wearing it. The lapidary line groups it with the yellow stones held to lift a heavy mood and steady anyone who has to ask other people for money. Put a citrine where you keep your money. Handle it once, name aloud one thing you intend to earn, and leave it there.
Diamond Transparent and colourless at its finest, but also yellow, brown, grey and rarely pink, blue or green; the lustre is unlike any other stone, hard and oily-bright, throwing sharp flashes of spectral colour when it is cut. Adamas means unconquerable, and that is its whole old meaning. Pliny reports that it defeats the hammer and the anvil, and repeats the story that only goat's blood will break it. The lapidaries gave it invulnerability rather than romance: proof against poison and fear. Western tables put it under the Sun, Indian astrology under Venus. Its link with betrothal is modern, built largely by De Beers advertising from 1947. Put the diamond on. Name one decision you will not reverse, out loud, once. Take it off only when the decision has been carried out.
Heliodor Transparent pale greenish-yellow to warm gold, usually very clean, and often found in long six-sided prisms. Heliodor is golden beryl, named in 1910 from the Greek for gift of the Sun. The name is new but the family is not: beryl was the scrying stone of the medieval lapidaries, gazed into for what the eye could not otherwise reach. Heliodor keeps that use and turns it outward, and is held for study, for long reading, and for staying awake to a hard thing. Set heliodor beside your work. Read one page you have been putting off, aloud and slowly. Then put the stone away until the next page.
Peridot Transparent olive to bottle green, always green and never any other colour, with an oily lustre; large stones show facet edges doubled when you look through them Pliny's topazos, mined at first light on an island in the Red Sea, is our peridot, and the medieval lapidaries called the same stone chrysolite, so the name has moved twice. Marbode of Rennes writes that set in gold it drives off the terrors of the night. It comes out of volcanoes and meteorites, and the tradition keeps it for what grows back. Wear it or hold it, and name one thing that is already recovering. Not a hope, but something you can point to. Say it out loud once.
Pyrite Opaque brassy metallic yellow, often in sharp cubes or flat radiating discs; tarnishes with age to a dull brown iridescence. Pyrite grows in cubes so square they look cut. Its name is Greek for fire-stone: struck against steel it throws sparks, and both Theophrastus and Pliny record it doing exactly that. That is the whole of its tradition, a stone holding fire in a cold form. It is kept for nerve rather than for luck, and its likeness to gold earned it the name fool's gold. Set the pyrite where the light catches it. Name the task you have been circling for weeks. Do the first five minutes of it now.
Rhodochrosite Banded rose-pink and white in stalactite slices, or transparent raspberry-red rhombs where it has grown as clear crystals. The Argentine deposits were worked from old Inca silver mines, which is where the name Inca rose comes from. Banded pink and white, it became the tradition's stone of returning delight, given to people who have grown competent and joyless. The lapidary line is simple enough: it is held to remember what you liked before you learned to be sensible. Hold the rhodochrosite and name one thing you loved doing at ten years old. Then do fifteen minutes of it today.
Ruby Transparent to translucent red, from pinkish through to the deep tone dealers call pigeon's blood. Fine silk-like inclusions are common and can give a six-rayed star when the stone is cut domed. Sanskrit calls it ratnaraja, king of gems. Medieval lapidaries, Marbode among them, hold that it drives off sadness and that it darkens to warn its wearer of coming trouble. Note the disagreement: Western planetary tables give ruby to Mars, while Indian astrology gives it to the Sun and will not let a weak Sun wear one. Both traditions agree it is a stone of rank. Put it on. Stand up straight, say the first sentence of what you have to say, out loud, to the mirror. Then go.
Sunstone Translucent to opaque orange, honey or red-brown, flecked with metallic copper-coloured platelets that flash as it turns; Oregon material can be clear red or green. Sunstone is feldspar shot through with tiny plates of copper or iron, so that when it turns the light inside it flashes. The tradition takes that literally and holds it a stone of warmth put back into a person, given to those who have made themselves small. Where citrine is for asking, sunstone is for being seen while you ask. Hold the sunstone at a window and turn it until the flash comes. Say one thing you are good at, out loud, and go.
Tiger's Eye Opaque golden brown in bands of light and dark, with a silky sheen that slides across the face as it turns; the blue form is hawk's eye and heated material goes red. Tiger's eye is quartz that grew through blue asbestos fibres, so a band of light travels across it as it turns. The tradition gives it to the Sun in a guarded mood: a stone for watching without being watched. Its own lore is young, because the material was only worked from the nineteenth century, and it stands in for the older eye-agates worn against the evil eye. Turn the tiger's eye until the band of light crosses it. Ask yourself one plain question about a decision you are avoiding. Answer it.