A concept render of the Solastone: a round white stone set in a carved walnut body shaped like a teardrop, with a round brass dish above it and four small gems around it, standing upright on a small travertine base against sunlit plaster.

A stone that asks how you are.

Not a tracker. A check-in you do with your hand: turn the stone to where you are, say how many minutes you have, and get one small practice that fits. No score, no streak, nothing to keep up with.

Now on the App Store, free. Google Play is coming.

The why

Trackers tell you how you feel. Solastone asks.

Most of the day, something else is telling us how we are. A sleep score. A step count. A notification that says we’re behind. Solastone starts the other way around. It asks, and you answer with your hand.

You turn the stone to where you are right now. That turn is the whole check-in. No form, no one-to-ten, just a moment of noticing what your body already knows, in your own words, before anything else gets a say.

  • GreenFeeling good. I can cope.
  • YellowSomething isn’t quite right. I could use support.
  • RedI’m overwhelmed. Body’s taking over.
  • PurpleBarely here. Floating through.

Then it asks how long you have. One minute, five, fifteen, an hour. You get one practice sized to that time, from a toolkit of well-established practices: slow breathing, grounding, gentle movement, time outdoors, writing, rest, reaching out. Not a program to keep up with. Just the next small thing.

There are no streaks, badges, or guilt. Some days you’ll check in three times, some weeks not at all, and the stone doesn’t keep score. When something is heavy, you can write it down and let it go, and watch the words dissolve over one long breath out.

Afterward, if you like, it asks whether the practice helped. That’s how, slowly, you begin to see what works for you: which practices steady you, at what time of day, in which places. The noticing is yours. The stone just keeps it.

Solastone is a wellness tool, not treatment. It won’t diagnose you or tell you what’s wrong. It’s a quiet place to notice, and to look after yourself a little.

The app

Three taps from your pocket to a slow breath

Everything in Solastone is made to be used one-handed and silently, in the few seconds you actually have.

The stone turned a quarter, so the yellow gem sits at the top under the brass dish.

Turn it to where you are

The stone turns a quarter at a time and settles into each state with a click you can feel. Every state has its own gem and its own pattern of taps, so you can check in with your thumb, without looking.

Then say how many minutes you have. From opening the app to a running breath practice is three taps.

Phone in your palm under the table, halfway through a long meeting: yellow, five minutes, breathe.

Breathing you can shape

Follow the circle with your eyes, or by feel with the phone face down. If the pace isn’t right for you, turn the circle mid-breath to lengthen or shorten it. Solastone remembers the pace you like for each practice.

Lights off, phone face down on the blanket, a slow pulse under your palm. Nothing to watch.

Hundreds of small smooth pebbles in soft greys, greens, and sand tones, laid out in a round mandala, one for each check-in.

A pebble for every check-in

Each check-in places one pebble. There’s no count and no score, only an arrangement that grows as you come back: a few stones, then a small cairn, a spiral, a mandala, one day a stone shelter.

Miss a week and nothing is lost. It never goes backward, and your pebbles are exactly where you left them. Beside them, what has helped you lately gathers quietly, from your own answers.

Mornings have seemed lighter for you lately, especially at home. When afternoons at work turned yellow, slow breathing often seemed to help.

There were heavier evenings too, and you checked in anyway. That kind of noticing takes care.

Maybe, when an afternoon starts to tip, you could try that breath a little earlier.

Your stone

An example letter.

A letter from your stone

After a week or so of check-ins, you can ask your stone for a short letter about what it has noticed. It’s optional and needs an account, and before anything is sent you see exactly what the summary holds. Your notes and thought logs are never part of it.

A quiet Sunday, a cup of coffee, three paragraphs about your own week that you didn’t have to write.

Letters are written by an AI model, Anthropic’s Claude, from that summary. They’re reflections, not advice, and they can get things wrong. What’s sent, and what isn’t.

  • Set down

    Write what you’re carrying and let it go over one long breath out. The words are set aside on your phone, never uploaded, and you can bring them back.

  • Mantras

    Keep a few short phrases to see while you breathe, or on the home screen. With an account, your stone can write some for you.

  • Share with your therapist

    Put together a summary of only what you choose, as a PDF or plain text, and hand it to whoever you like. Solastone uploads nothing.

  • Evening mode

    From dusk to dawn, if you like, the whole app turns to oiled walnut by lamplight.

  • Private by design

    No ads, no analytics, no tracking. Accounts are optional, for backup only, and thought logs are encrypted on your phone before they leave it.

  • Gentle reminders

    Up to two a day, only if you ask for them. Never streaks, badges, or guilt.

A concept render of the Solastone on a rustic oak desk, standing on its travertine base beside a small olive tree in a terracotta pot, linen-bound books, a mug, and an open notebook.
Concept render. The stone is still being made.
The stone is coming

The app is the likeness. This is the stone.

Prototype. Details will change.

The app is one half of Solastone. We’re making the other: a stone that fits in your palm and turns without looking, in a meeting, on a train, in the dark. It stands on a small travertine base when you set it down. No screen to wake, no app to open.

  • Honed white quartzite, set in a carved, oiled walnut body with a soft, organic shape.
  • A thumb scoop in the rim, so your thumb finds the stone without looking.
  • Gems you can tell apart by touch: round, marquise, triangle, and square.
  • Breath you can feel. Gentle haptic patterns guide slow breathing. No screen, and no microphone.
  • A round brass dish where your thumb rests, from any side. It holds a small sensor that reads your pulse, so the stone can pace your breath to you.

There’s no date or price yet. If you’d like to hear when there is, join the waitlist.

Waitlist

We’ll write when it’s ready

Join, and you’ll get a short confirmation now, then one email when the app launches and one when the stone is ready. Nothing in between.

Your email is used only for this and never shared. One reply takes you off the list.

Tell me when…

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