I believe in magic. Not the kind that defies physics, but the kind that defies loneliness, despair, and disconnection. The kind that lives in the space between two people when one says, "This made me think of you."

Throughout history, humans have adorned themselves with objects that carry meaning. A warrior's amulet. A lover's ring. A grandmother's necklace passed through generations. These objects hold power—not because of any inherent mystical property, but because of something far more magical: story.

When you wear a talisman, you wear a narrative. When you gift one, you transfer that narrative. The power isn't locked in the stone or symbol waiting to be released—it's created in the moment of connection, in the act of meaning-making, in the space where one heart reaches toward another.

Consider this: A piece of rose quartz sits in the earth for millions of years, holding no stories. Then someone finds it, shapes it, and shares the ancient tale that rose quartz helps heal broken hearts.

Now imagine: You hear this story and immediately think of your friend going through a divorce. You choose a rose quartz pendant, not because you necessarily believe the stone itself contains healing properties, but because the story gives you a language for your care.

When you give this talisman to your friend, saying, "I heard rose quartz helps with heartbreak, and I thought of you," something profound happens. The stone becomes a physical anchor for:

• Your love and concern
• The moment of being seen and remembered
• The ancient human tradition of marking transitions with talismans
• A tangible reminder that they're not alone

That is power. Real, practical, emotional, spiritual power.

Many people experience stones, symbols, and talismans as having inherent energetic properties. Others see them as powerful symbols that work through psychology and intention. Some feel the magic is in the ritual, the choosing, the giving. Others believe in ancestral memories held in minerals and metals.

I honor all these perspectives because they all lead to the same beautiful result: connection, meaning, and transformation.

What matters isn't whether the power comes from the stone's crystalline structure or from the human heart that chooses it. What matters is that when you touch your talisman, you remember:

• You are loved
• You are part of a story larger than yourself
• You carry reminders of what matters most

In this collection, I share the tales that cultures throughout history have woven around stones, symbols, and Tarot card combinations. Not as absolute truths, but as a rich vocabulary of human meaning-making. When I tell you that amethyst has been associated with clarity and protection, I'm sharing the story that thousands of years of human beings have told. You get to decide what that means for you.

Think of it like this: A grandmother's locket doesn't hold power because of the brass or silver—it holds power because of the photos inside, the hands that clasped it, the stories whispered while wearing it. Yet knowing that lockets have symbolized "keeping loved ones close to the heart" across cultures adds another layer to the story. Both the personal history and the collective narrative create the meaning.

As you explore these talismans, I invite you to:

• Choose with intention: What story do you need to carry? What narrative do you want to gift?
• Trust your instincts: If a piece calls to you for someone, that intuition IS the magic
• Add your own story: These talismans become most powerful when you infuse them with your personal meaning
• Share generously: The story grows stronger each time it's told

Whether you believe the power lives in the stone, in the story, in the stars, or in your own heart, you're right. The magic happens in the space between all these beliefs—in the place where humans have always made meaning from the materials of the earth and the mysteries of connection.

Every talisman in this collection is waiting to become part of your story. The question isn't whether it has power, but what power you'll create with it.

I'm trying to make a different kind of jewelry—perhaps the most precious material isn't gold or silver or stone, but story itself.

May you find the perfect tale to carry, and the perfect person to share it with.