The Symbols I Wear: The Meaning Behind the Rings, Necklaces, and Bracelets

Contrary to popular belief, I am a highly sentimental person. Not with photos or gifts, but with symbols of something greater than ourselves. I had never been one to wear jewellery or necklaces or rings, though I certainly tried to get into them to be one of the cool kids back in high school. After joining the military, those things held even less meaning, as they were generally prohibited in uniform. After my first deployment, though, my attitude began to change. Over time, I found myself seeking out symbols that defined me and guided my life. Some people find such symbolism in crosses, but, unfortunately, a memory of someone long gone stole my tolerance for the cross as a personal symbol from me. I tried symbols from the military, like unit crests and crossed sabres, but they didn't hold as I wasn't one of those gung-ho for the cause like I once was. After taking off on The Great Gallivanting, though, I found a few that mean something to me, and I now wear them every day. These are the stories behind the symbols I wear.

Medallion of San Miguel

In the first chapter of my book The Great Gallivanting: A Journey of Realisation and Discovery Across the World, I listed out three goals: to write, to get more acquainted with faith, and to attend a bullfight. I far exceeded my expectations in all of those categories. The research for my second (upcoming) book Aficionado: Discovering Spain Through the Art of Bullfighting took me deep into faith and bullfighting as cultural elements of Spanish life. I became enamoured with the idea of divine protection as runners in Pamplona implored San Fermin to guide them, bullfighters made crosses in the sand before entering the ring, and local festivities revolved around their region's patron saint. While I question certain Catholic doctrines related to patron saints, I found the commitment to them as a religious gesture endearing.

During my final days during my Aficionado tour, I scoured Madrid in search of something that I could hold so endearing. I resolved to find an image of Michael the Archangel, also referred to as Saint Michael (San Miguel, in Spanish), as he is specifically mentioned in the Bible as a heavenly warrior, protector, and vanquisher of Satan's armies. I finally found a medallion at the Almudena Cathedral that would work as a necklace, and I used red and yellow thread, the national colours of Spain, for the chain. Why colour representative of Spain? Because of the country’s deep impact on my faith, worldview, values, and, yes, love for bullfighting.

Do I pray to San Miguel? No, and as a Baptist I never would, but it is the symbolism that matters to me. The medallion is not a symbol of cultish devotion (the term "cult" being the one chosen by followers of various patrons and patronesses), but of a belief in God's protection over His kingdom and Michael's role in it.

Cross of Agadez

During my military deployment to Africa many years ago, I was gifted a Cross of Agadez, a Tuareg symbol of virility and the nomadic lifestyle. I gave it as a gift to a friend, me not being the sentimental or jewellery type at the time. Fast forward to Morocco on The Great Gallivanting, and I sought to replace it having found a meaning in a life outside of the national security world. I bought several, some to give as meaningful gifts and others to keep for myself.

The story behind the Cross of Agadez is not well known, and inquiring about it often gets met with a shrug. In some Tuareg communities, though, men pass their crosses down to their sons as they set out on life on their own. Such passdowns were once commonplace in the United States, but, sadly, such connections with our heritage, ancestors, and culture have faded far into the background as the noise of American life grew louder and louder. While I am not claiming Tuareg heritage or culture as my own, I take some level of personal solace in knowing that someone, sometime gifted me that original cross. Now that I am a full-time traveller and travel writer, the Cross of Agadez takes on an almost literal meaning, as I live a nomadic lifestyle from my backpack, just as the Tuaregs live theirs from the camels.

Sic Parvis Magna

Before my necklaces bearing the medallion of San Miguel and the Cross of Agadez, I wore a ring on a leather string. That ring was a cosplay replica of Nathan Drake's ring from the Uncharted video games. In the games, Drake acquires the ring from his claimed (though not actual) ancestor, Sir Francis Drake, a famous English privateer from the 1500s. Sir Francis made the second circumnavigation of the world on a single expedition, the first Englishman to do so, and he fought against the Spanish Armada as a vice admiral during the defence of England in 1588. His motto was, reportedly, "Sic Parvis Magna," or "Greatness from Small Beginnings."

I lost that necklace in Ireland, but I promptly replaced it with the ring which I now wear on my right hand. When I first started wearing the necklace, it was out of sorrow. I had lost something very near to me, and I was trying to find something to replace it. I swore to myself that when I found something better, I would swap out the ring for one to wear on my left hand, just as Drake does in Uncharted 3. Years later, the ring represents a new goal: to find greatness on my own terms, but in a way different from the Drake of the first three video games.

At the end of the third game, Drake's mentor, Sully, tells him that true greatness comes not from what we're born with but what we do with the life and time we have. That's my goal, now. I could seek out the type of greatness everyone else wanted for me, from being a battalion commander in the military to a high-level intelligence official, but after too many years chasing that, I found it unfulfilling. The adventure on the road, be it in the mountains, bullrings, or oceans, that is the greatness I'm chasing. The greatness of a richly-filled, eventful life. One day, maybe, I'll add another ring to that life.

Remembrance Bracelet

On my right wrist, I wear a remembrance bracelet. I lost a friend when I was in the military unexpectedly. I was in Iraq and he was at another base. Losing him was the final straw in a long line of hits that came that January. I broke down for days at lunch, only pulling myself together long enough to get through the work days and meetings. A lot had happened in life at the time, and I was on a collision course with an unceremonious end myself upon returning home from that deployment.

Fortunately, a mutual friend (and a former co-worker in the military) gave me one of the remembrance bracelets he had ordered shortly after his death. I have worn it everywhere I go ever since, steadfastly refusing to remove it whenever instructed to do so. It is my way of giving my friend the life he no longer has, and so far, he has accompanied me on over 300 skydives, 100 scuba dives, travelled over 100 mph on motorcycles, been to 34 countries, dozens of bullfights, and more that I can only begin to describe. There have been many rough days in there from events in my own life, and sometimes I feel like looking down at the bracelet was the only thing that kept me pushing through.