Call them talismans, lucky charms, periapts, or idols—just never, under any circumstance, call them amulets—spiritually charged objects offer us protection, good luck, and connections to a place or person long since gone.

For Kismet’s second issue, we asked friends of the magazine to share the sacred objects that sit on their desks, in their purses, or perhaps in a marble niche at the bottom of a shady grotto.

There’s no denying some mystics and religious thinkers are ascetics, but plenty of them aren’t. We think there’s no harm in enjoying a few enchanted objects.

Altar on my dresser: statue of Sveti Donat, 9th-century church in Zadar, giant quartz crystal from my friend Aiden Arata, obsidian snowflake rock from a writing residency in Banff, blessed holy salt from my mom, bust from Athens, angel figurine from hot springs in Zagorje. I like mixing objects from New Age, Catholic and Greek mythology just to cover my bases depending on what God ends up being real.

—Nada Alic, author of Bad Thoughts

 

This is a B’samim holder, used in the Jewish Havdalah ritual that marks the end of Shabbat and the transition into the new week. During the ceremony, we bless fragrant spices to bring comfort to the soul as Shabbat departs. In my family, we traditionally use cloves, which are stored inside this holder. I inherited it from my grandfather in Jerusalem, making it both a ritual object and a cherished family heirloom.

—Hadar Cohen, Arab Jewish mystic and artist

 

Nothing is more talismanic than this little bottle of potion given to me by the writer Brenda Lozano, something she made out of I don’t know what, meant to aid in creative work. I dab a little on my wrists or the back of my neck before writing, and, listen, Brenda is an absolute Bruja. I do not ask questions. I accept this fate. 

—Catherine Lacey, author of Biography of X

 

This small, chondrite meteorite sits on my desk. It is 4.6 billion years old, formed in the same solar nebula that gave rise to our solar system. It drifted through space, unchanged, until it eventually fell to Earth and was found in the Sahara. I bought it from a meteorite dealer in Tucson, Arizona at the world’s largest gem, rock and mineral show. It serves as a humbling reminder of deep time and the unimaginable vastness of the universe. A quiet anchor to the infinite.

—Tin Nguyen, artist

 

My father’s ashes in a locket alongside a shell from a shore on the edge of the world, those precipices being our favorite places to be because they faced the unknown.

—Rachelle Robinet, herbalist and author of Naturally

 

I was gifted this little friar a year ago. You can twist his head off and fill his body with port. I move him off my desk when I can’t bear being watched. At times, he seems almost malevolent. I like to think he keeps me honest.

—Paul Dalla Rosa, author of An Exciting and Vivid Inner Life

 

My object of choice is my treasured orange beaded lampshade. Its warm glow brings a sense of peace and consolation on long evenings and sleepless nights. It is the protector of my home and, quite literally, a light in my life.

—Allegra Krieger, musician (Art of the Unseen Infinity Machine out now)

 

My husband and I bought a little house in the Catskills in 2021. It was our first time purchasing a home, and while highly exciting, this milestone also filled me with immense anxiety. The day we moved in, I stumbled upon this wonderful old skeleton key in a dusty corner of the garage. I have yet to find the keyhole to which it belongs, but I took it as an encouraging sign from Hecate, the Greek goddess of witchcraft – one of her epithets is Hekate Kleidoukhos or “Keeper of the Keys.” The house has since revealed itself to be steeped in magic, and this Hecate talisman is now in a place of honor to remind us of her bewitching blessing.

—Pam Grossman, author and host of The Witch Wave

 

I am fascinated by synchronicities and signs. Have you ever thought of an object or person only to have them appear in your life shortly afterwards? Since releasing my album, Owls, Omens, and Oracles, I’ve been seeing owls everywhere. Like most Americans, I love stuff, and this owl necklace is a favorite that I own. But, even more, I love the owls that I find on walks, like one I saw the other day in someone’s yard. Something told me to walk down a street I’d never been down as I made my way back to my place. That’s when the yard owls appeared. What spiritual signs or objects keep coming up for you? What omens are they trying to share? 

—Valerie June, musician (Owls, Omens, and Oracles out now) 

 

This small, timeworn statue of the Black Madonna of Montserrat has followed me through some of the most inwardly transformative seasons of my life. She doesn’t promise comfort. She promises truth. To me, she represents the forgotten feminine principle. Generative, wild, and cyclical, she is not sanitized or polished. She is the archetypal mother who doesn’t rescue you, but waits for you at the bottom, so you can remember who you are.

—Mollie Adler, host of Back from the Borderline

 

What might look like a duck decoy is actually a kirogi; a traditional Korean wedding gift of two wooden geese (this one lost its partner a long time ago), given as a symbolic gesture as many types of geese mate for life. This one is a 19th century Joseon dynasty example. I especially love the revelatory nature of this one: in a dim room it appears to be unvarnished wood, but bright light reveals elaborate and colorful paintings of wings and feathers. For me it’s a daily reminder of the multidimensional and sometimes unknowable nature of love. It’s also a reminder to be bold in the pursuit of a beautiful life, as the process of acquiring this duck was, to put it mildly, complex and protracted.

—Ilya Milstein, illustrator

 

A very special version of a very special person. This talisman has been watching over me every night of this year from my nightstand. Honestly, one of my most telling, secure years yet. All thanks to Princess Diana, Goddess of the Gays.

—Yian Taylor Brown, Culture Concierge & Cabaret Impresario

 

My second eldest sister made me this talisman half a lifetime ago. She wove it together from a collection of Mexican “Milagro” charms. I’m not sure of their exact meanings, but I always saw them as an anchor for safe travels, a hand for a strong embrace, and a silver set of lungs to protect against our family history of weak ones. I’m never far from this charm. It usually hangs up in my home, but I take it with me on longer trips. 

—Ned Griffith, inventor, entrepreneur & socialite

 

What if there’s nothing? Like, literally, nothing. My house could burn to the ground and so long as I and my family (and dog) escaped, there’s not a thing in the world I would miss. I think I’d be relieved. What picture would you run with this, I wonder…

—Christian Wiman, poet and author of Zero at the Bone