Amulets, Talismans, and Symbols

I’ve been thinking recently of what seems to be a very human trait: the use of amulets, talismans, and symbols. I’m sure there must be a few examples out in the animal kingdom that also use these, but for the most part it seems to be one of the few quirks that separates humans from all the other living beings. They are ubiquitous. Except perhaps for the most primitive small groups, you don’t have to look hard to find these facets in all of human existence.

So, what are we talking about? I’m talking about those things, usually tangible objects, which exist to ease our fear. I’m talking about stars, crosses, flags, and candles; about idols, robes, pentagrams, and mantras. I’m talking about each and every one of us trying to gather together those symbols whose intent, ultimately, is to comfort us.

Why we have them in such abundance isn’t hard to divine. It all stems from fear…perhaps originally, our fear of the dark. Most of us don’t know what it is like to be out in the dark. There is so much light pollution that there are just a few places around the world that get as dark at night as it was just a couple hundred years ago. If there was a new moon and enough cloud cover to obscure the stars, you experience a profound dark. Not just an absence of light, but a fullness of dark. Every rustle of a leaf might be a predator or something else just as dangerous. With fire, though, we could light our way and help ward off these unseen threats. It wasn’t long before the fire itself, not the tool of fire, was what gave us comfort.

To this day, fire is perhaps our most common symbol. So many of our rituals involve the lighting of fire. It could be something as profound as the thousands of candles in a monastery, or simpler such as the burning of a stick of incense, or seemingly frivolous such as the candles on a birthday cake. Prayers are given. Wishes are made. Comfort is sought. And in the center of it all: a simple flame.

Since the beginning, we’ve done more than simply use fire. Bones and teeth were added to the mix, then primitive carvings and paintings. Before long, you weren’t anyone if you didn’t have some extra protection. The elk that got carved on a spear to give it more power. The skin of a lion or bear used to give the owner extra ferocity (Heracles, any one?). I mean, once the flood gates opened, there was nothing to hold them back.

Of course over time some people would come to venerate some symbols, or groups of symbols, more than others. Religion anyone? Anyone?

It’s truly amazing the symbology that becomes a part of our lives. So much of it is purely an accident of where we were born, at what time, and into what family. Had I been born on the other side of the world, it’s entirely possible that the symbols surrounding me wouldn’t have been the stars and stripes, or crucifixes, or nuns habits. It’s more likely that I’d have been surrounded by turbans, and cows, and effigies of Vishnu. My personal perspective would have changed largely due to the symbols which surrounded me by dint of time and space.

Your badge. It’s just a star—just another symbol—your talisman. It can’t stop criminals in their tracks, can it? It has power because you believe it does.

— Sally Owens to Officer Hallet,
Practical Magic 1998 screenplay by Robin Swicord

That’s the thing about talismans, amulets, and other symbols… so far as any of us knows, it is us that gives them power, not the other way around. But I don’t think that’s a bad thing. A lot of people need that sort of focus. It helps to remove the fear. I can’t say that I don’t number among the masses in this.

I’ve had one true talisman in my life: the ankh. I didn’t seek it out. I didn’t even know what an ankh was, much less what it was called, but the first time I saw one when I was a child, I knew that I’d found a resonant symbol. It would be years before I owned an ankh of my own. Having grown up in a culture that treats some symbols as blessed and others as heretical, it’s sometimes difficult to wander off what is known. I haven’t regretted taking the path less traveled. The ankh gave me the comfort that I’d been lacking with trying to adopt the symbols of others. Do I think it can “stop criminals in their tracks”? No. But it does let me feel more settled in the world. It allowed me to feel connected.

And that’s the trick, you see. That’s ultimately what all these trappings are for. To connect to that which is more than what we are. To seek refuge in the knowledge that with our symbols in hand there is less to fear. That’s the strength they give us. That’s the connection. And, no matter what else, it calls to mind the words that serve as our common guide: Be good to others; try to not be afraid.