Which Energy Field Are You In Today?

A letter I never planned to write, but maybe always needed to.

I never meant to name it. It just… kept showing up.

At first, it was small. A woman would walk into the studio, try on a piece, and her whole posture would change. Not dramatically—just a soft shift. Her shoulders would lower a bit, she’d breathe a little deeper. Sometimes she’d say, “I don’t know why, but this feels like what I need right now.”

I used to think that kind of moment was just coincidence. A good fit. Good taste.

But it kept happening. Not just with clients, but with friends. With myself.

And so I started watching more closely. Not just what women were choosing, but when.

And how those choices almost always reflected what was going on inside—whether they realized it or not.

Jewelry, for me, has never been about completing an outfit.

It’s never been about perfection. Or polish. I know that’s strange to say as someone who’s worked with gemstones most of her adult life. But what I love about jewelry has never been about the shine. It’s about the feeling. That pull you get toward a certain piece that makes no logical sense, but somehow you know: this is the one today.

There are mornings I reach for something strong, silver, with sharp lines—when I need to feel clear, decisive, focused. There are other mornings when all I want is softness. Something that reminds me I don’t have to be sharp. I can just… be.

And then there are days when I find myself drawn to something unexpected. Bright, bold, maybe even a little chaotic. Not because I feel that way—but because I want to. Like a whisper from my future self saying, “Let’s go. You’re ready.”

That’s when I started calling it “energy fields.” Not in a spiritual sense. More in a human one. Emotional landscapes we walk through. Sometimes consciously, sometimes not.

Some days I’m in a field that feels open and intuitive.

My phone stays face-down. My movements slow. My thoughts soften at the edges. I say less, but feel more. Those are the days I’m moving through what I call my mystic space. When I know I need to stop listening to the outside noise and return inward.

Other days I’m craving clarity—not just in thought, but in conversation. I speak slower, but more directly. I choose my words, and my jewelry, carefully. Something grounded. Something cool to the touch. That’s my calm, ocean-like state. I don’t need attention—I need connection.

Then there are those rare mornings when something has shifted inside me overnight. I don’t always know what. I just feel… clear. Clean. Awake. Those are light days. Days of realization. Days when I’m ready to write, to move, to show up.

Of course, not every day has that much clarity.

Some days I’m tired. Not sleepy tired—soul tired. I’m slower. I want to feel whole, but I know I’m not there yet. That’s when I lean into something grounding. Something that reminds me it’s okay to be in process. That’s the part of me I think of as forest. Rooted. Healing. Still growing, even when it doesn’t show.

And then, there are fire days. You know the ones. When something’s lit inside you and you’re not asking permission anymore. I don’t reach for fire—it reaches for me. And when it does, I let it lead.

Not all strength is fire, though. Sometimes it’s a storm. Centered. Dense. Unapologetically still. There’s a part of me that comes out in those moments—the part that knows what she stands for, and doesn’t need to prove it. When I wear heavier jewelry, deep colors, solid stones… that’s her. That’s me in my storm.

And on days when the world feels a little too much, I find myself wanting to feel warm. Loving, yes—but not performative. More like soft armor. Something that lets me feel deeply, and show it carefully. Something close to the chest. That’s when I know I’m moving through love. Not the hearts-and-roses kind. The kind that makes you brave enough to be open.

There are also times when I need to pull inward. Protect. Retreat. Not because I’m hiding, but because I’m tending to something only I can see. That’s not weakness. That’s shadow. And it’s sacred.

These fields aren’t something I invented.

They’re just something I finally had the words to name.

And once I did, everything changed—how I designed, how I chose what I wore, how I supported the women who came to Serene Western looking for something they couldn’t explain.

We don’t label our pieces by energy field, because we don’t believe your emotions belong in boxes.

But every piece we create holds a space. A mood. A quiet resonance.

Because jewelry, to me, is one of the most honest forms of expression we have.

It lives on the body. It doesn’t shout. It doesn’t ask for validation.

But it says what needs to be said—if you’re listening.

I don’t believe in the idea of “dressing for who you want to be.”

I believe in dressing for who you are, right now.

And allowing that expression to guide you forward.

Some days that means fire. Some days it means love.

Some days it means nothing sparkly at all.

The point isn’t to get it “right.”

It’s to recognize where you are.

And then—maybe—reach for something that helps you remember…

you’re not alone in it.

Not every woman will use the words I do.

But every woman, I believe, feels it.

Whether she calls it her energy field or not.

So today, I ask myself—and maybe you ask yourself, too:

What field am I walking in right now?

And what do I want the world to feel—before I say a word?

—

From one woman to another,

who’s worn every one of these feelings on her skin.