There is, along a shelf of books in our house, a series of elephants bought by my mother over the years after she heard they were considered to be good luck in India. Black and brown wood, plastic, ivory (in India generally Elephants’ tusks are cut down like nails to regrow and elephants are not killed for the ivory) large and small. Even my sister got in on the act and bought a toy one embroidered with lots of decorations on it and a saddle.
My mother also likes collecting sea shells and pebbles from beaches to use as paperweights in the belief that they help to make sure you will always go back to the place you found them. I am sure you have similar relationships with objects that have a mystical or semi-magical aura about them and I am sure you were taught those associations.
I have no idea where these associations come from but I am know that human beings adore having relationships with ‘things’ and taking some ownership of them by having a friendship with them. It is this warmth of spirit, from giving them names to lovingly having them strewn about the home, that bind one to one’s own life. It is, after all, the reason we sometimes talk to our motor cars and become convinced that animals can understand our most profound conversations.
In a way it is childish and in a way it is the wisest characteristic of our humanity.