Anyway, short of a good pendant with an actual depiction of Mercury or Hermes – coin or other – and at a reasonable price, I considered other options. The ideal would be a scallop, because it’s commonly used by pilgrims in Galicia and could therefore easily stand for wayfaring, the Lares Viales and the Iberian aspect of Mercury. But again, the options available online are either disappointing or expensive and the best place to find them in abundance and at a good price is Santiago de Compostela. Ironically, I lived there for four months back in 2010 and what scallops I bought at that time I give them away as gifts, ignoring their mercurial value. Which is understandable, since Mercury only stepped into my life after I came back from Santiago, in what was the start of the ways-and-Lares-Viales-focused path that I’m currently on. So I’m going to wait for things to come full circle and one day return to Compostela, at which point, in a manner of symbolic milestone, I’ll buy two small silver scallops, one for me and another for Mercury. In the meantime, I opted for a turtle pendant.
Obviously, the choice wasn’t random. It’s an animal with a mercurial link by way of the myth of Hermes’ birth and of how He invented the first lyre using a turtle shell. But in the Iberian cult of Mercury that I’m constructing, it’s also an animal representative of the notions of movement and change. Which may seem odd, given that the turtle is far from being the fastest of species, especially on land, but that’s exactly where its symbolic value resides: however slow, however seemingly non-existent, things are constantly moving and change is a permanent part of life. There are no final destinations, just stops and stages in a perpetual journey.
Granted, the turtle from the myth is a tortoise, a fully terrestrial animal, whereas the pendant, as seen in the photo, depicts at best a sea turtle or a terrapin, but that is nonetheless appropriate, since those are the two branches of the species that are native to Portugal. So there’s an Iberian note there, in line with an equally Iberian cult and similarly to what I had in mind with the scallop.
Thus, on the final days of August, I bought two pendants, one for me and another for Mercury, and placed them by His image in the domestic shrine dedicated to Him. There they stayed until the first Wednesday of September, at which time I removed them and kept them by the fireplace as I burned the offerings I make to Maia’s Son every month – cinnamon, fennel and wine, together with a candle that’s left burning on the shrine. And then I consecrated the pendants, sprinkling them with cinnamon and adding a portion of dark chocolate as an additional offering to signal the moment.
After the ceremony was over, one of the pendants was returned to the shrine, where it now stands next to god’s image. And the other I’ve been using every since as a symbol of luck, protection, of the perpetuity of movement and change and as a physical expression of a bound with Mercury, with whom I now share a small object.