Jewelry as a Ritual
Why my jewelry (and really, everything) holds a frequency of cherished meaning
When I was little, my safta and saba would visit us from Israel. It was always exciting because we didn’t get to see them that often and our time together was always incredibly joyful. Every visit, my safta would shower my sister and I with kisses and cozy hugs, and we’d spend many days in our courtyard swimming in the pool under the coconut trees. Like every good Jewish grandmother, my safta often showed up with a little something for us. Usually, it was something gold, and most times, it was a charm of a Turkish eye.
My grandparents are originally from Istanbul and in Turkish culture, wearing or having an eye in your home (or car, or really—anywhere) is good luck and protection. It wards off any ill-intended energies and keeps the wearer blessed. Each time I received a charm from Safta Becky, I cherished it like a priceless treasure. I collected them on my gold chain, admiring how they jingled and jangled in between the peter-pan collar of my school uniform. In fact, I still have all the charms she’s given me over the years, and to this day, I swap them onto different chains and add to my collection when the feeling strikes. Each charm I add feels like a tiny spell for good fortune, potent with loving and protective matriarchial energy infused into it. To me, these charms continue to represent protection and connection—they function as something much more than just adornment.
And this feeling has seeped into every piece of jewelry I own. If you ask me a question about any piece I’m wearing at any given time, I will tell you a sentimental story about its origin. I already told you about the ruby ring I bought myself in 2017 after winning a Conde Nast Traveler award. When I was 25, I made a vow in the form of a delicate gold ring dotted with flowers to love myself first, and no longer waste my life waiting for a man to enter it and shower me with love. Because I can and deserve to do that for myself. Always.
(Buy yourself the jewelry, get yourself the flowers.)
On both sides of my family, there’s a deep tie to jewelry. I remember visiting Trinidad when I was 12 and noticing the stacks of bangles on women’s arms. There is a long tradition woven between the African and Indian lineages that landed in Trinidad that brought the ritual of wearing bangles to the island. While there, I bought a copper bangle with steel pans at the ends and admired how it glinted in the sun, driving down the winding mountain roads to Maracas Bay.
Bangles also connect back to my Israeli family—all of the women wear gold bangles gifted for big achievements like graduations, finishing the army, getting married, or giving birth. They are worn proudly—talismans of their life acheivements and marking the passage of time.
Jewelry ties me back to my truth. It holds promises, visions and symbolism in its materials.
When I wear a piece of jewelry, I honor these things. Putting every piece on is a ritual.
Now, when I create custom talismans, I’m thinking about my safta. I think about the power of heirlooms and ancestral traditions of adornment and celebration. Jewelry, to me, is joyful. I think about what it means to wear something every day that speaks to your past, your present, or who you’re becoming. It’s a subtle reminder, every time you catch a glimpse of it, to remember your path—both behind and ahead of you.
When we work together to craft a talisman necklace, I drop into this intuition gifted to me by my ancestors before me. Sometimes it's a color that calls to me first. Sometimes a certain crystal makes herself known. And other times, a single word from you opens our channel.
Each necklace I make is a little offering to tap into jewelry as a ritual—a celebration of our ancestry and the ways we all choose to decorate and adorn our bodies with meaning and joy.
If you’re looking for something to anchor you right now—to protect, soften, or remind—I’d be honored to craft a talisman piece for you.
With softness and deep reverence,
Maya