The Pink Diamond Theory: Knowing Your Worth and Finding Peace

I recently listened to an episode of Hot and Unbothered that completely shifted my perspective. It introduced something called “The Pink Diamond Theory” and it hit me like a ton of bricks.

Here’s how the story goes:

A man finds a rare pink diamond and gives it to his daughter. He tells her to walk through their village and ask how much people would offer for it. She goes to the baker first. When he asks for the price, she silently holds up two fingers. “Two dollars?” he says. He knows it’s worth more but assumes she doesn’t. So he tries to lowball her. She says nothing, and moves on.

Next, she goes to the antique store. She holds up 2 fingers again when he asks how much it is. The antique store owner goes, “200 dollars? Nah, not even close.” He doesn’t see its true worth and is not even willing to pay that much. So, she leaves again.

Finally, she takes it to a jeweler, and when he sees it, his eyes light up. She holds up 2 fingers again when he asks its price. He says, “2 million dollars? That’s a fair price.” He understands the value of the pink diamond and is ready to do whatever it takes to possess it. The girl didn’t sell the diamond to the people who didn’t recognize its worth. She waited for someone who truly saw it for what it was. And that is the lesson.

You are the pink diamond.

There will be people who can’t see your worth. Don’t argue. Don’t shrink. Don’t beg to be understood. Just walk on until someone recognizes your value, effortlessly and without question.

This story resonated with me so deeply, especially after everything I’ve been learning (and unlearning) this past year. At the end of 2023, I found myself craving peace like it was something physical something I needed to touch. Around the time The Eras Tour movie came out, I made friendship bracelets with Taylor Swift song titles to give to my friends. For myself, I made one that said Peace. It wasn’t just a favorite song anymore it became something like an intention. A quiet reminder.

I wore it for months.

And then one day, in August, I stopped. Not because I forgot, but because I didn’t need the reminder anymore. I felt… settled. I no longer needed it to remind me of peace. Like, “Whatever happens, happens. I’ll be okay.” I started seeing everything as a temporary experience something I pass through, rather than something I have to grip. I’ve learned to accept and let go of things because I realize I don’t own anything in this world. Everything is just an experience.

It’s like that Adventure Time scene where Betty tells Simon, “You were a wonderful experience.” and Simon says, “You are everything.”

I used to hate that moment. It felt too final. Like, why couldn’t they change the ending? Why can’t they change things or pretend and make their own happy ending? But now, I see how deep and beautiful it is. It’s about accepting things as they are. That kind of acceptance is its own kind of freedom.

So after hearing the pink diamond story, I bought myself a pink gemstone ring. It felt symbolic. Something to wear until the “jeweler” arrives. Until someone sees me clearly. And even if no one ever does, I’ll know what I’m worth.

And I won’t settle.

Burning for Candles

Let’s rewind to the pandemic, when people can’t leave their homes and the world turned into one big Rapunzel montage. You know the one: painting the walls, brushing your hair, ventriloquizing your pet? Somewhere in that blur, I promised myself I’d try every hobby in that Rapunzel song. Candle-making made the list.

So I bought everything: soy wax, wicks, tiny jars. But as life crept back in (as it does), the supplies got quietly pushed into a corner. Then one fateful day, the power went out and I can’t find any candle at home.

Survival instincts kicked in. I dug out the dusty supplies, dropped a wick into a glass jar, put the wax and just like that, I had candle. It wasn’t pretty, but it worked. I remember sitting there, smugly admiring my janky creation flicker in the dark like I had unlocked fire itself.

Of course, I promised myself I’d take the whole hobby more seriously and make real candles someday. (Spoiler: I didn’t.)

But here’s the thing, candles still fascinate me. I want to try making all the fancy ones: scented candles, succulent-shaped candles, carved candles, and even painted candles.

Speaking of candles, can we talk about how magical it feels to receive one? Last Christmas, I got a candle as a gift (it came with a lighter), and let me tell you, I cherished that thing. I’d light it during my nighttime skincare routine, meditation, or stretching sessions. It burned for weeks. I still haven’t bought myself a candle since. I’ve added a few to carts, sure. But buying one feels different than being given one.

My candle obsession, I think, goes way back to my childhood. Whenever there was a storm and the power went out, I was that kid who sat there watching the flame like it was a portal to another dimension. I’d play with the dripping wax, shape it into little balls, burn a strand of my hair, and even try to pass my finger through the flame like I was some kind of magician. Candles and fire always felt so…mystical.

And then there’s all the weird candle lore like, why do you need a candle to summon Bloody Mary in front of a mirror? Why do witches light candles for their spells? Why do we use them for graves, memorials, and ceremonies? It’s like candles hold this ancient, mysterious power that we all just accept without question.

I’ve done my research and apparently, lighting candles is thought to cleanse negative energy and bring positive ones. I guess, that makes sense. A flame can change the mood of a room faster than a playlist.

Anyway, I could ramble on about candles forever, but if you’re as curious as I am, check out this link for more fun facts about their history: https://candles.org/history/

Who knows? Maybe one day, that spark of candle-making will reignite in me. Until then, I’m happy just basking in their glow. ✨