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102 Gemstone Names for Your Baby

102 Gemstone Names for Your Baby

Yahoo5 days ago
Fact checked by Nicholas Blackmer
If you're hunting for a baby name that feels both grounded and a little magical, you might want to look beyond popular baby name lists and into your jewelry box. Gemstone names, like Ruby, Jasper, Onyx, and Pearl, carry centuries of symbolism, from healing energy to inner strength. Whether you're drawn to the cool calm of Jade or the fiery flair of Garnet, there's a gem name to match every child (even if you haven't met them yet).
And like the stones themselves, these names range from classic and polished to raw and unexpected. Here are some of our favorite gem-inspired names (plus meanings and origins) to help you find the perfect fit for your newborn.
Origin: Persian/Greek
Meaning: 'Bringer of treasure'
Alternative Spellings & Variations: Jaspar, Jesper, Gaspar
Origin: Greek
Meaning: 'Claw' or 'fingernail'
Variations: Onix, OnexBlack onyx is the most popular choice for jewelry, however most black onyx on the market is artificial. Natural black onyx is so rare that manufactures dye quartz to achieve a similar look.Origin: Old English
Meaning: 'Hard quartz stone'
Variations: None common, but Flynn is a stylistic alternative
Origin: English
Meaning: 'Black mineral gemstone'
Variations: Jett
Origin: Middle English (via Old French and Latin)
Meaning: 'Dark red gemstone'
Variations: Garnett, Garnette
Origin: Greek
Meaning: 'Light green semi-precious stone'
Variations: Berril, Beril
Origin: English
Meaning: 'Gray metamorphic rock'
Variations: Slayte, Slade
Origin: Latin
Meaning: 'Reddish-orange stone'
Variations: Cornelian, Carney, Leon
Origin: French/Arabic
Meaning: 'Sky blue'
Variations: Azuriel, Azul, Azure
Origin: English
Meaning: 'Excellent' or 'high-quality'
Variations: Sterlyn, Sturling
Malachite
Coal
Alabaster
Hematite
Zircon
Agate
Amberon
Basalt
Seraphinite
Cobal
Stone
Chrysos
Dravite
Tektite
Halite
Eilat
Thulite
Jereme
Hauyne
Axinite
Taaffe
Voltara
Origin: Latin
Meaning: 'Red gemstone'
Variations: Rubi, Rubie, Ruba
Origin: Latin
Meaning: 'Precious white gem'
Variations: Perla, Perlette (French), Margaret (means 'pearl' in Greek)Pearls symbolize purity and innocence.Origin: Sanskrit (upala, 'precious stone')
Meaning: 'Iridescent gemstone'
Variations: Opaline, Opalia, Opalline
Origin: Arabic
Meaning: 'Golden fossilized resin"
Variations: Ambre, Ambar, Amberly
Origin: Hebrew/Greek
Meaning: 'Blue gemstone'
Variations: Saphira, Safira, Sapphira
Origin: Spanish
Meaning: 'Emerald' or 'Green gemstone'
Variations: Esme, Esmée, Emeralda
Origin: Latin
Meaning: 'Sea-born gemstone'
Variations: Coraline, Cora, Koral
Origin: French
Meaning: 'A precious stone' or 'Something treasured'
Variations: Jewelle, Jewell
Origin: Old French
Meaning: 'Beloved' or 'Esteemed'
Variations: Esmee, Esma
Amethyst
Diamond
Emerald
Lapis
Seraphina
Roselle
Celestine
Tanzanite
Sapphira
Tourmaline
Zaira
Crystal
Chalcedony
Andalusite
Danburite
Elbaite
Feldspar
Galena
Ilvaite
Jacinth
Larimar
Marcasite
Nephrite
Obsidia
Petalite
Rhodonite
Topazi
Vivianite
Vesuvia
Viitaniemi
Zircona
Origin: German
Meaning: 'A silicone dioxide crystal'
Variations: Quarz, Quartzon
Origin: Greek
Meaning: 'Precious stone'
Variations: Topazia, Topaziel, Topy
Origin: Persian/Latin (lapis lazuli)
Meaning: 'Sky blue' or 'Shining stone'
Variations: Lapis, Azul, Azura, Laz
Origin: English
Meaning: 'Smoldering coal' or 'spark'
Variations: Embry, Emberly, Ambre
Origin: Greek/Latin
Meaning: "A deep blue dye"
Variations: Indie, IndigoaIndigo has a rich history and was often used to dye textiles in ancient times. It was most famously used to color denim.Origin: Spanish/French
Meaning: 'Sky blue'
Variations: Azur, Azul, Azure, Azurine
Origin: Spanish
Meaning: 'Stone of the flank'
Variations: Jayde, Jaide, Jadon
Origin: Latin
Meaning: 'A yellow to golden-orange variety of quartz'
Variations: Citron, Citrena, Citrina, Citra
Origin: Greek
Meaning: 'A shimmering gemstone that reflects the sun'
Variations: Sunniva, Sunny, Sola, Solen, Sunna
Origin: Latin
Meaning: 'Volcanic glass'
Variations: Obsi, Obsidia, Obie, Sidian
Amari
Ametrine
Almandine
Turquoise
Spinel
Kyanite
Iolite
Heliodor
Zircon
Aventurine
Peridot
Azurite
Kornerupine
Cavansite
Iolite
Milarite
Okena
Clino
Tenebrite
Bastna
Cryolite
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Washington bans sale of a common plant, deems it noxious weed

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Man Chooses New Name for Himself When Transitioning, but There's a Problem
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She is repelled by his aging, 'decrepit' body and embarrassed by her own 'greedy body saying yes' to his sexual maneuvers. Nonetheless, their affair continues in New York City, though it is short-lived and ends abruptly; the photograph he takes of her runs in a 1983 issue of a now-defunct French fashion magazine. For safekeeping, the narrator slips a copy of the picture inside a white notebook, but when she searches for it decades later, both the photo and the notebook are gone. To tell the photograph's story, she must summon the details from memory as best she can. Those familiar with Ullmann's biography might immediately suspect that she is the girl in the photo; after all, her own upbringing echoes the one depicted here. Ullmann is the daughter of the late Swedish director Ingmar Bergman and the Norwegian actor Liv Ullmann, and specifics of her childhood are not difficult to locate. Moreover, it is her own teenaged face that peers from behind the typescript on the book's cover, looming above the words 'A Novel.' You might find this interplay between word and image destabilizing. Perhaps Ullmann sought in fiction the creative and emotional freedom to portray both her atypical childhood and her parents in more impressionistic terms, or perhaps she hoped that classifying the book as a novel would offer some measure of privacy to her family and herself. Then again, Ullmann is in well-traveled territory. Autobiographical novels and works that otherwise test the boundaries between novel and memoir—Karl Ove Knausgaard's My Struggle, Ocean Vuong's On Earth We're Briefly Gorgeous, Sheila Heti's How Should a Person Be? —are familiar to contemporary readers. Literature has a distinct ability to illuminate truth's multiplicities; writers like Ullmann remind readers that fact and fiction are fragile categories, and that collapsing them can yield enthralling results. Girl, 1983 is still more deft in its experiments, subverting conventional ideas about fiction's use of the truth. A reader might expect autobiographical fiction to flesh out the skeleton of a memory with invented details. Ullmann instead draws on the category of the novel to embrace the gaps, to insist on their primacy in any remembered history. Ullmann has not just written an autobiographical novel; she has suggested that every autobiography might be a novel in the first place. If Ullmann had labeled Girl, 1983 a memoir, few readers would have raised an eyebrow, because she barely disguises her story's basis in autobiography. The protagonist is undoubtedly her proxy: Like Ullmann, she is a writer in her 50s, half Norwegian and half Swedish, with an actress mother who was 'one of the most beautiful women in the world' and an illustrious father who was largely absent from her upbringing. And like Ullmann, the protagonist has already written a novel that was 'based on real events.' Unquiet, translated into English by Thilo Reinhard in 2019, chronicles Ullmann's parental relationships—particularly with Bergman—with seeming fidelity. For Ullmann, designating her latest work a novel seems to communicate something both distinctly personal and universally true. By foregrounding incomplete memories—she writes about trying to ascertain 'the order of events, the ones I remembered and the ones I'd forgotten and which I had to imagine'—Ullmann lays bare the reality that minds are not so much storage devices as sieves. As her protagonist puts it, 'Forgetfulness is greater than memory.' To call Girl, 1983 a novel, rather than a memoir, is no mere exercise in literary classification, nor is it only a challenge to the limits of genre. It is surrender, inscribed: an acknowledgement that ownership of one's memories is provisional, an unstable cache susceptible to time and circumstance. Ullmann's protagonist wrestles with this difficulty. Over the course of the novel, she struggles to recount the Parisian photo shoot and her affair with K. The history is 'made up mostly of forgetting, just as the body is composed mostly of water,' she explains. The story, separated into three sections—Blue, Red, and White—travels a spiraled, associative, and fragmented path, making persistent returns to the events connected to the photograph. Most notably, it frequently revisits the protagonist's past and present relationship with her often-distracted mother. Indeed, the narrator's desire for proximity to her mother forms the connective tissue stitching together the chronology of her childhood. 'I've never been much good at distinguishing between what happened and what may have happened,' she reflects. 'The contours are blurred, and Mamma's face is a big white cloud over it all.' Perhaps recollection always requires a degree of fiction-making, not simply because people are inherently forgetful but because memories are shaped as much by impression and sensibility—a mother's face, the hazy sketch of a dark Parisian street—as they are by actual events. And yet, as Ullmann makes clear, remembering and forgetting are not so much actions as forces that everyone must negotiate. One might try to foster conditions for remembrance—take photographs, keep a journal, stash relics—but forgetfulness sets its own obscure terms. This need not be distressing. In fact, there is something pleasurable in setting down the burdens of the past. 'I don't want to lose the ability to lose things,' the narrator protests, in response to a promotional email for an app that makes it easier to retrieve misplaced items. Too much past accumulates; it gnaws like a parasite, thriving on the vitality of one's most punishing memories. What a relief, to let some things fade away.

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