If you ever want to feel both extremely poor and extremely powerful at the same time, may I suggest a visit to the Hall of Geology, Gems, and Minerals at the National Museum of Natural History in Washington, DC.
I went in July of 2019 with my boyfriend (important detail, hold onto it), ostensibly because I like rocks. Which is true. I do like rocks. But not in a “I know Mohs hardness scales off the top of my head” way. More in a “this shiny thing has been on Earth longer than capitalism and could still crush me emotionally” way.
This hall is pure spectacle. It is wall-to-wall shimmer. Glass cases packed with gems so aggressively beautiful they feel fake, like they were designed by a cartoon villain with unlimited funding. Emeralds the size of stress balls. Rubies that look like they could power a small nation. Diamonds that make you understand, on a visceral level, why people used to colonize entire continents over sparkly stuff.
The lighting is immaculate. Everything glows. It’s like the Met Gala, but for minerals.
And because I am who I am, at some point my brain said: You know what would be fun? Psychological warfare.
So I started teasing my boyfriend.
I want to be clear: I had no burning desire to be married at that exact moment. No timeline. No Pinterest board titled “Future Last Name.” But when you’re standing in front of jewelry worth a kazillion dollars, something comes over you. A spirit. A demon. A little voice that says, Be annoying. As a treat.
I began pointing out rings.
“Oh,” I said, gesturing delicately at a three-carat gem that could be seen from space, “that one might be just a tinch too big if you proposed with it. I’d prefer something only a teeny-weeny bit smaller.”
I was committed to the bit.
I continued. I critiqued. I assessed hypothetical proposals using museum-grade gemstones that required armed guards and probably their own insurance policies.
Except for the Hope Diamond.
That one I waved off entirely. “That size,” I told him, “would be just tacky.”
Reader, he manic laughed. Fully. The laugh of a man reassessing his life choices in real time. At one point he said, “You’re worrying me,” which only encouraged me further because I am a menace.
Eventually we moved on. Dinosaurs were next. (We looked at dinosaurs. As one does.) The moment passed. The gems remained behind glass. Life went on.
Or so I thought.
Because later on that same trip, this man took me to an actual jewelry store and asked me to pick out the ring I’d want to wear so he’d know what to get when he proposed.
Not if. When.
So yes. The Hall of Geology, Gems, and Minerals is an educational marvel. It teaches you about Earth’s formation, tectonic processes, crystallization, and the sheer audacity of nature. It contextualizes minerals within geological time and human history. It showcases some of the most important gems ever discovered.
It also, apparently, plants seeds.
For the record: we are married now. 🙂
Would I recommend this hall? Absolutely. Go for the science. Stay for the sparkle. Accidentally set the stage for your future engagement if the mood strikes. Just… maybe don’t start critiquing imaginary proposal rings unless you’re prepared for consequences.
Rocks are powerful like that.
