Largest stony iron meteorite added to my collection, and the quiet theatre of holding deep time.
Some objects don’t need much staging. They already arrive with a story.
This is, so far, the largest stony iron meteorite to enter my collection. Roughly 2.5 kilograms of condensed time. Dense, magnetic, nickel-positive. The usual checks all point in the same direction. This did not begin here.
On the surface, it is unassuming. Dark, pitted, almost reluctant to perform. Yet the texture tells another story. Raw and cavernous, like a landscape rather than a specimen. It feels less like holding a rock and more like holding a place.
That was the moment I decided to add a tiny figure to the scene.
The Monkey King.
Born of stone, born of defiance, standing at the mouth of something ancient. A small theatrical touch, perhaps, but also strangely fitting. Myth placed beside material evidence. Folklore meeting physics. A character whose origin begins inside a rock, paired with a rock whose origin begins beyond Earth.
Suddenly it stopped being just a meteorite.
The temptation to cut it open
There is, of course, the collector’s itch. The temptation to slice it open and expose the interior. Stony iron meteorites can hide spectacular structures, iron-nickel lattices, olivine crystals, sometimes inclusions romantically referred to as “space diamonds.”
A cut surface would be dramatic, no doubt.
But I hesitate.
Some specimens feel complete even when unopened. As if cutting it would interrupt something still ongoing. Not because the object is mystical, but because restraint is also a form of respect. This piece has already endured entry, impact, erosion, and time. It does not owe me a cross-section.
The quiet part I didn’t expect
Here is the strange part.
When I sit with it, really sit, there is a sensation that creeps in slowly. Cooling. Settling. Almost like standing barefoot on stone after a long day in heat. In my mind’s eye, the rock is anything but dull. I imagine muted surfaces giving way to internal colour. Not literal rainbows, but layered energy folding inward. Old energy. Patient energy. The kind that does not announce itself.
Maybe it is imagination. Maybe projection.
Or maybe intuition is simply another form of observation we have forgotten how to trust.
Meteorites are time capsules, yes, but they are also witnesses. They predate our myths, our urgency, and our need to label everything immediately. Holding one has a way of shrinking the noise. Of reminding you how small “now” really is.
A brief, practical detour
Basic at-home checks for potential meteorites
I’m often asked how one can tell whether a rock might actually be meteoric without jumping straight to a laboratory. While nothing replaces professional classification, a few simple tests can help filter out obvious terrestrial impostors.
These are not guarantees, but they are useful first steps.
1. Density and weight
Meteorites, especially iron and stony iron types, feel unusually heavy for their size. If a stone feels “too heavy” compared to normal rocks of similar volume, that’s your first signal to look closer.
2. Magnetism
Most meteorites contain iron. A strong magnet should show attraction. Weak attraction can still count. No attraction at all is usually a red flag, though some rare types exist.
3. Nickel test
Iron meteorites and many stony irons contain nickel, unlike most Earth rocks. Simple nickel test kits are available and can help distinguish meteoritic iron from industrial slag.
4. Surface features
Look for shallow thumbprint-like depressions called regmaglypts. Also note fusion crust, a darkened outer layer formed during atmospheric entry. Fresh fusion crust can look black or brown, older ones may weather to grey.
5. Streak test (use cautiously)
On unglazed ceramic tile, meteorites typically leave little to no streak. Reddish or brown streaks often indicate terrestrial iron oxides instead.
6. Bubbles and holes
Vesicles or bubbly textures are common in slag and volcanic rocks. True meteorites rarely show gas bubbles.
If a specimen passes several of these checks, then it becomes worth consulting a specialist or laboratory. Many “meteorites” fail at step one or two. A few survive the process and earn closer attention.
A display meant to invite pause
I like displays that invite pause rather than explanation. Ones that make you lean in, squint a little, and wonder what you’re really looking at. Not everything needs a label immediately. Some things are better when they sit there, silently daring you to imagine where they’ve been.
Perhaps that’s why the Monkey King belongs here. A quiet sentinel at the edge of a cosmic landscape, reminding us that origins can be told through science, myth, or both, depending on what part of ourselves we are listening with.
Over to you
I’m curious if others feel this too. That calming, grounding pull when handling meteorites. Or whether this stone is simply doing what ancient things do best, sitting quietly and letting us read ourselves into it.
If you’d like this post expanded further, tell me which direction you’d like to explore next:
- acquisition and provenance
- professional testing and classification
- whether I should slice this specimen, and what a cut might reveal
- symbolism and display philosophy
TL;DR
I added my largest stony iron meteorite so far, about 2.5kg, to the collection. It is dense, magnetic, and nickel-positive. While tempted to cut it open, I’m drawn to leaving it intact. Handling it feels strangely calming and grounding. I’ve also included a practical overview of basic at-home tests that can help identify potential meteorites before professional verification.