Today we’d like to introduce you to Margaret Graham.
Hi Margaret, can you start by introducing yourself? We’d love to learn more about how you got to where you are today?
I never planned to be a jewelry artist. Or a person who believes in God. Or a leader (I’m literally laughing out loud).
I always had some artistic talent, so I majored in Art in college, but my focus was ceramics, not jewelry. When I graduated, I didn’t have money for a kiln or supplies, so I waitressed for a while. Eventually, I went back to school to get my teaching certificate in special education. It never occurred to me that I could actually make it as an artist.
But truthfully, I didn’t like being a teacher. After a couple years as a lead teacher, I stepped back into an assistant role, which gave me the freedom to start making jewelry on the side. I’d been inspired by the intricate jewelry I’d seen while working in a gallery, and I loved how personal it felt, like each artist’s work was a reflection of who they were. That idea stuck with me.
I taught myself to make jewelry and launched a line called Gritgoods, a nod to my maiden name (MarGRIT GOODSon) and a playful blend of my inner girly-princess and barefoot-dirty-hippie selves. Around the same time, I got certified to teach yoga in 2015. And by the next year, I had left the school system entirely to teach yoga and make jewelry full time.
But after just one summer, I realized I couldn’t do both well. I had to choose. And I kept telling people: “If I’m going to pick making jewelry over teaching yoga, it has to have more purpose and meaning.”
Then one day it hit me.
I was sitting at a stoplight, thinking about people who couldn’t make it to yoga class because of time, life, whatever. I glanced down and noticed my thumb and forefinger touching lightly on the steering wheel. I let my other three fingers extend, forming gyan mudra, and took a few deep breaths.
That’s when I thought: If a steering wheel can guide someone back to their breath, what else could?
And then the idea came, clear as day. A pendant: concave on both sides, with a hole in the center to guide the fingers into gyan mudra. I even imagined a lotus pattern on the inside wall. I knew right away it was a good idea. And the very next thought was, my prayer’s been answered.
That moment sparked a spiritual awakening I wasn’t prepared for.
And I kind of fell apart.
My inner critic showed up loud, questioning my worth, my ability to follow through, and basically insisting I was going to fail.
But then, the thing I had been inspired to make for others – this small tool for grounding and breath – ended up carrying me through the darkest seasons of my life. It reminded me to pause, to breathe, and to believe I was worthy of healing.
That healing journey was messy, long, and honestly brutal at times. But it changed me. I got help. I learned how to care for myself, to meet my shadow with compassion, and to show up in the world with more confidence and authenticity.
Now, I share the story behind the art, because people tell me again and again: “Your work helps me.”
And that’s how I know I’m on the right path.
Would you say it’s been a smooth road, and if not what are some of the biggest challenges you’ve faced along the way?
The biggest struggle along the way has been myself.
There’s nothing like entrepreneurship – being your own boss and being the face of your brand – to stir up some inner-critic $h!t. To put it bluntly, up until that point, I hadn’t realized just how much I hated myself. I’d had bouts of mild depression before, but now that I had all this unscheduled time to overthink paired with a growing mindfulness and meditation practice I started to really hear the constant hum of self-doubt in my head.
It was relentless. That voice had no faith in me. It told me I was worthless, hopeless, helpless, unlovable, incapable – you name it.
I was grateful for the awareness, but also devastated by it. The depth of my self-hatred caught me off guard and I know it surprised other people too. I’d masked so well for so long that I’d become an enigma, even to myself. As the saying goes, “you don’t know what you don’t know,” and I did not know myself. I had spent years training myself to stay comfortably in denial of my discomfort. Coming out of that denial was painful and slow – because a part of me kept whispering, “we were fine, let’s just crawl back in our hole and stay small.”
I started noticing these two dueling parts of me: one begging me to get help, and the other clinging to old survival strategies, like telling me to suck it up, pull myself together, I’m playing a victim and I just need to get over it. Honestly, I still occasionally struggle to discern which voice is true.
And that’s another thing I realized: I didn’t trust myself. How could I if I didn’t even know myself?
I’d spent my life trying to please others and lost touch with what actually pleased me. And I watched myself sabotage my business, caught between a fear of failure and a fear of success. I came up with excuses not to put myself out there. I struggled to market something that felt so deeply personal. I repeated the same patterns and made the same mistakes, over and over.
The real struggle has been learning how to put myself first. That meant, getting to know myself, studying my patterns, and giving myself permission to get the help I needed.
As you know, we’re big fans of you and your work. For our readers who might not be as familiar what can you tell them about what you do?
As I mentioned, I make Centering Pendants – jewelry designed not just to be worn, but to be used. They’re my original idea, and I created them as tactile mindfulness tools to help people reconnect with themselves through breath, presence, and intention. The form guides your fingers naturally into gyan mudra – thumb and forefinger touching – so when you reach for it in moments of anxiety or stress, you’re literally brought back to your center.
The pendants are incredibly versatile. People have used them during childbirth, chemo treatments, grief, and panic attacks. Others have gifted them as tokens of love, grounding, or remembrance. It’s jewelry that becomes a ritual – whether that’s just one deep breath, a full mindful minute of pause in the middle of chaos, a day of labor, or a year of grief.
And what I love most is that when someone reaches for comfort, what they find is connection with themselves. That moment when the fingertips touch? It’s a physical reminder that everything you need is already inside you. Gyan mudra is also believed to unite the human and the divine – so for many, the pendant becomes a spiritual touchstone as well.
From a materials perspective, these pendants are also unlike anything you typically see. I work in metal clay – microscopic metal particles bound together into a soft, malleable form. It lets me work like a ceramicist (which was my first love) while still creating in pure metal. I form, carve, and stamp each piece by hand using designs I’ve drawn myself – either into scratch foam with a pencil or through a more detailed photopolymer plate process. Once dry, the piece is kiln-fired just like pottery. The binder burns away, the metal particles sinter together, and what’s left is a solid piece of fine silver, sterling, copper, or bronze.
And from there, the possibilities are endless. I can add stones that survive the kiln. I can enamel with vibrant color. I can even paint on 22k gold, layer by layer, then torch-fire and burnish it while still hot, a technique similar to keum-boo.
What I’m most proud of is the intention behind every design and the originality of the idea. Each piece is shaped with a concave form and center opening that invites the fingertips inward. It’s recognizable, personal, and purpose-driven. When someone tells me they saw a pendant across a room and knew it was one of mine, I take that as the highest compliment.
What was your favorite childhood memory?
I have so many wonderful childhood memories that surround my family and art, I’m not sure I could choose just one. I was surrounded by beautiful art, I was taught to appreciate art, and I was told many times that I was a creative and talented artist.
My parents were art lovers and had a lot of beautiful art in my childhood home – particularly pieces by Georgia O’Keeffe and M. C. Escher. My Dad enjoyed photography and even took a class once with Ansel Adams so we had a signed print of his.
At least once a year my family went to a big art show, so from a young age I was exposed to artists selling their art for a living. I remember the first time I sold a ‘friendship bracelet’ I’d made to a friend of my Mom’s. I immediately tried to sell her another one.
I also remember watching my sister draw in coloring books – she systematically filled in an area with color, lightly, and then went back and outlined it darker. She was methodical, slow and thorough. To this day I still learn best by watching someone else do it first.
Lastly, I remember my Grandma would send us handmade ornaments every year for Christmas. I didn’t appreciate them much as a child, but now that I have a tree full of them, I am incredibly grateful. I loved my Grandma’s house.
Sometimes I wonder how I ever doubted I could be a successful artist with as much attention my family gave to the preciousness, sacredness, and importance of handmade art. I’m just glad I made a full circle back to this knowledge.
Contact Info:
- Website: https://www.centeringpendants.com
- Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/centeringpendants
