Way back in 2001, we escaped the pressures of an increasingly stressful career and traveled to Istanbul. An old woman, learning against the doorway of a closed office on Taksim Square, called out as we passed. She insisted upon giving me a tiny blue glass bead.
I offered to pay. She declined, saying only that I must have the amulet to keep me safe from the evil eye. It seemed almost like a prediction that the evil eye was near. I clutched the charm and kept it near me for several years. Eventually, I lost it. Or maybe it absorbed an evil glare and fragmented into tiny particles.
The superstition of the evil eye predates most of our organized religions and appears in writings thousands of years old. In Turkey, the belief is that the evil eye amulet protects from a look of jealousy or envy. This look conveys harm to its innocent recipient. In one version, the eye amulet will absorb the evil energy and crack to protect the innocent victim. Choose your religion; we all need protection. I was so charmed by the universality of the amulet that we purchased one upon our return home. I wear it often, and you can see it above.
In Spain, we came upon the evil eye incorporated into a Hamsa (or Khamsa) amulet. We were told that this amulet was called the Hand of Miriam in a synagogue. In a mosque, it was referred to as the Hand of Fatima. I have since read that the Hamsa is called the Hand of Mary in some locales.
Superstitions explain and protect against those things which we cannot understand: jealousy, evil, misfortune. Our country has a number of such superstitions. Four leaf clovers will bring luck, walking under a ladder or seeing a black cat will bring misfortune. For generations, people believed that the seventh son of a seventh son was born “lucky.” He was thought to possess unusual powers of healing and prophecy. Novels and music have been written about seventh sons and their powers. A family ancestor, Samuel Saylor was proudly described by his son as a seventh son, imbued with healing powers. Sadly, more extensive genealogical research has not confirmed Samuel Saylor’s seven male siblings. His seven male uncles have not been confirmed either. However, Samuel was a skilled shoemaker and a well-known traveling singing teacher.
Science is no substitute for amulets; knowledge of chemistry or psychology does not protect me from misfortune. I miss the simplicity of thought which crafted these amulets, and the joy they brought to their wearers. I still think of the Turkish woman’s gift with wonder. And I wish superstitions could help us cross the lines of prejudice and warfare, bringing equal protection to Muslim, Jews, and Catholics alike. Oh, were it so simple as that.
Uncharted Waters 
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