There is a mountain near Globe, Arizona, whose contours echo the silhouette of a woman asleep. It is calm and still there. And from that calm and stillness, something extraordinary once emerged: Sleeping Beauty turquoise.
Sleeping Beauty turquoise is named for that sleeping woman, and this turquoise, born from her shadow, holds that same quiet power.
I am always in awe by the ways the Earth mirrors us. The way it carries its own scars, imperfections, intensity, its eruptions and pressures, and then produces something that radiates such peace and calm. Sleeping Beauty turquoise is the embodiment of this paradox. Formed through heat, pressure, and upheaval and then what emerges is so delicate and luminous.
That feels personal to me. Nothing there needs to be fixed or understood.
This turquoise is celebrated for its pale, clear blue. Some stones show no host rock at all. Others are infused with pyrite or dark veins—proof of what they’ve survived. And isn’t that the truth of all of us? Some parts of our stories are clear and light. Other parts are jagged, complex, hints of darkness and shadow. But all necessary for the whole.
The mine in Arizona opened for copper and gold, and became iconic in the 1970s for its turquoise. The mine has been closed since 2012, so what remains is finite. That finality adds to its reverence.
When I hold a piece of Sleeping Beauty turquoise in my hand, I feel all of that—resilience, calm, history, and renewal. It’s not just a stone, it is all of nature’s beauty forged through intensity and chaos. These are the kinds of pieces I love– the ones that connect us to something deeper, grounding, ancient and that help us remember that we are allowed to rest, but we are capable of returning– and that is the definition of resilience. We come back… perhaps a little different, but we show up. . Just like that mountain and like that woman sleeping. Still here. Still strong. Still full of promise.
And when we wear her stone—as blue as the sky—we carry that same promise with us.