Amber

Amber is not a mineral. It is fossilised tree resin — some specimens from the Baltic coast are thirty to ninety million years old, pressed into their final form before humans existed to notice them. The colour runs from pale gold through burnt orange to a deep reddish brown; the best pieces are translucent, held up to light and they glow. They are warm to the touch in a way that true stones rarely are, because resin conducts heat differently than crystal.

The name comes from the Arabic anbar, originally describing ambergris before the word shifted west to meet this softer, older material. The Greeks called it elektron, and watching static lift small things after rubbing amber is how we ended up with the word for electricity. That small demonstration — resin and silk, the quiet crackle — has been repeating in European workshops for two thousand years.

The tradition keeps amber warm. It belongs to the solar plexus and sacral chakras, to fire as an element, to Leo as a sign. Practitioners have reached for it when the season turns inward and the body needs a little convincing that energy is still available — walking, working, making things. The colour itself does a lot of the work: amber is the shade that used to mean lit windows in a cold landscape.

The suggestion is to give it a place in a daily rhythm. One amber piece, one stated intention — move, begin, stay warm — and return to it during the day as a physical anchor for something you decided first thing. The amber holds the note. The practice is yours.

Below: our catalogue's amber — rough pieces, polished stones, jewellery and objects in the fire register, for the solar plexus and the seasons that ask you to keep moving.