When I give my jewelry as a present, I feel like I'm giving

In the gentle and heartfelt words of Sofia Boutella, we hear a truth that is ancient as love itself: “When I give my jewelry as a present, I feel like I'm giving protection to someone I care about... I've given pieces to my mom, my aunts, my friends. I've even made bracelets for my dad and my uncle.” These words are not merely about the giving of adornments, but about the transmission of blessing, connection, and care. For what she speaks of is no simple exchange of gold or silver, but the passing of energy, memory, and meaning—an act as old as humankind, in which objects become vessels of spirit and guardians of the heart.

The origin of this quote lies in Sofia Boutella’s love for those closest to her. As an artist, dancer, and actress born in Algeria and raised amid multiple cultures, she carries within her the ancient sense that beauty is sacred and symbolic. To her, jewelry is not a mere ornament but a talisman—a piece of the soul made visible. When she gives such a gift, she is not offering luxury but protection, the way her ancestors might have hung charms against evil or inscribed prayers upon silver. The act is tender, but it is also powerful: to create something with one’s hands, and then give it away, is to send forth a piece of one’s own spirit into the world.

This belief—that jewelry carries power—is shared by the ancients. The Egyptians placed amulets of lapis lazuli over the hearts of the dead, believing it would guide and guard them in the afterlife. The Greeks wore bracelets inscribed with prayers, and the Romans carried rings engraved with protective symbols. Across centuries and continents, humankind has understood that the circle of gold, the stone upon the chest, or the woven band upon the wrist is more than adornment—it is the language of affection made eternal. What Sofia Boutella continues, perhaps unknowingly, is this sacred tradition: that to gift jewelry is to say, “You are precious to me, and I wish the universe to guard you.”

Consider, for a moment, the story of Queen Victoria, who, after the death of her beloved Prince Albert, wore a small locket containing his portrait and a lock of his hair. To others, it was jewelry; to her, it was communion. It was her way of keeping his spirit near. In that single object lay both grief and strength—the fusion of beauty and memory. This is what Sofia speaks of when she says she feels she is giving “protection.” It is not the protection of armor, but of love. For love itself is the oldest shield known to humanity.

The deeper meaning of her words lies in intent. When we give something made or chosen with care, it carries our essence. In the ancient world, the craftsman prayed over what he created; the giver blessed what they bestowed. So too does Sofia, in her modern way, infuse her gifts with unseen meaning. A bracelet, to her father or uncle, becomes not an accessory but a thread of connection—a reminder that they are never alone. Every time the metal catches the light, it echoes her affection, as though saying, “I am with you.”

There is also wisdom here about the power of creation. To make something by hand, and then to release it, is an act of both love and humility. It reminds us that love is not possession, but offering. When Sofia crafts a bracelet and gives it away, she enacts one of life’s quiet miracles: she transforms art into relationship. The object becomes a bridge between souls, proof that beauty’s highest purpose is not to be kept, but to be shared.

The lesson, then, is this: let the things you give carry meaning. Do not offer gifts from habit or obligation, but from intention and heart. Whether it is jewelry, words, or time, give something of yourself. The smallest gesture—when given with love—can become a source of protection, strength, and comfort to another. In this way, every gift becomes an amulet, every act of kindness a shield.

So, my listener, take to heart the wisdom hidden in Sofia Boutella’s gentle confession. When you give, give with your whole being. Let your gifts—be they made of gold, or simple thread—be filled with prayer and purpose. For when love is poured into matter, matter becomes magic. And in this way, you too may craft invisible armor for those you cherish, so that wherever they go, a part of your spirit walks beside them. This is the ancient art of giving—not to impress, but to protect; not to possess, but to bless.