Have you ever had a moment where your excitement completely bulldozed your better judgment? Where your inner child screamed, “Let’s do it!” while your inner scientist quietly passed out in the corner?
Yeah. That was me. And this, dear reader, is the true (and sparkly) tale of my very first attempt at stone tumbling.
It all started with a box of stones I’d been waiting days for. Beautiful, promising, raw chunks of pyrite—fool’s gold, as some call it, though I’ve always found the name a bit unfair. Pyrite has this bold, golden shimmer, like treasure plucked straight from an ancient dragon’s hoard. I held those little metallic marvels in my hand and thought, You are going to shine like the sun when I’m done with you.
Spoiler alert: They did not shine.
In my absolute giddiness, I rushed to load them into my brand-new rock tumbler. No research. No guidebooks. No asking seasoned tumblers for tips. I just poured them in with grit and water, sealed the barrel, flipped the switch, and danced away like some kind of magical lapidary wizard.
I imagined them tumbling smoothly, polishing each other with grace and elegance, revealing perfect gleaming facets. I pictured myself opening the barrel days later to find golden orbs of glory. I even considered writing a metaphysical blog post about the transformational symbolism of pyrite.
And then… the day came.
I opened the tumbler. My hands trembling with anticipation. My heart full of hope.
And what did I find?
Glittery sludge.
Not gold nuggets. Not even golden gravel. No, my dear friends—what greeted me was a wet, grayish-gold metallic mush.
I had unknowingly committed every rookie mistake in the book. Turns out, pyrite is too soft and brittle for tumbling the way I did it. It fractures, it flakes, and it most definitely does not survive a week of grit-and-spin abuse. My tumbler looked like it had chewed up a robot.
Moral of the story? Never tumble first and research later. Especially when your crystals are more drama queen than gemstone.
But here’s the real kicker—I kept the glitter. Yep. I scooped that metallic dust into a little jar and labeled it “Tumbled Ambition.” Because even though it failed spectacularly, it was still sparkly, and it still taught me something.
Sometimes the best stories don’t end in success. Sometimes, they end in a cautionary tale… covered in glitter.
Stay whimsical, my friends. And maybe google your rocks first.
Tonya @ Tonitunes
