A Journey with Talismans: A Birthday Gift to Herself
Songül chose to welcome her new year alone, on a solo trip to Chiang Mai. Before setting off, she'd chosen three talismans to carry with her: strength, abundance, and wisdom. We talked with her about solo travel, turning a year older, and why an object is sometimes never just an object.
How did you decide to take this trip?
I'd had a real need to stop for a long time. As my birthday approached, I asked myself, "What do I actually want to do?" I realized it wasn't a big celebration — it was silence, a new place, and time with myself. I made myself one rule: don't hold big expectations. Just go, watch, and accept whatever comes.
What did traveling alone change in you?
When you're alone, you hear your own rhythm much more clearly. I watched sunrises, walked into temples, sometimes just sat in silence. At some point I noticed I'd stopped asking "what should I do now?" — I started observing and following instead of trying to control everything. I think that was the greatest freedom solo travel gave me.
Did you have any unexpected encounters along the way?
That might be my favorite part of the trip. I walked into a temple and joined my first monk chat; an antique shop owner gave me a small gift for protection; someone I met at a café offered me a mandarin. Over time, some of the monks learned my name and would call out "Songül" when they saw me. I realized what makes a journey beautiful isn't only the places you see — it's the people you meet along the way.
Is there a moment from your birthday that stayed with you?
Without knowing it in advance, I ended up at a Dharma talk and food-offering ceremony — it turned out there was a birthday ceremony that month for people born in January. I was blessed by a monk and given a t-shirt as a gift. I hadn't planned anything; I'd come for silence, if anything. And yet I found myself among people I'd never met, in a completely different culture, having my birthday celebrated. That day felt less like "what a nice birthday" and more like being met by life itself.
What did you give yourself as a birthday gift?
The journey itself, really. But before I left, I'd also chosen three talismans for myself: strength, abundance, wisdom. I wanted to step into my new year with these three intentions. And the longer I stayed in Chiang Mai, the more the meaning of these words shifted for me. I saw that strength isn't always about being hard — sometimes softening is strength too. I realized abundance isn't only what we possess — two mandarins from a stranger, a small object someone gave me for protection, coffee made by a monk, a meditation cushion offered as a gift — that's abundance too. And wisdom, maybe, isn't having all the answers — it's accepting that you don't have to.
What did the Luna Merdin talismans you carried make you feel?
I realized a talisman's value doesn't come only from itself. The moment you wear it, the intention you give it, the stories it passes through with you — these can matter even more than the piece itself. I came to Chiang Mai with these three talismans. I watched sunrises with them, walked into temples, met new people, sat with monks, fed animals, received gifts from strangers, and stepped into a new year. When I came home, I wasn't just wearing three symbols representing strength, abundance, and wisdom anymore — I was carrying my own story of what these words had come to mean to me. We choose the talisman; life writes its story.
Was there a moment on this trip that made you feel "I was meant to be here"?
Yes — and it still feels strange when I think about it. Two years ago, a friend gave me a monk's phone number after I'd mentioned being curious about Vipassana. I never went, and I forgot about it. In Chiang Mai, I chose one of three temples, and there, by chance, I joined a monk chat. At the end of the conversation, I asked the monk for his number to stay in touch — and as I started typing it in, I saw it was already saved. The number I'd received two years earlier belonged to the very monk sitting across from me. You could call it a coincidence. For me, it was a powerful "meant to be" moment. You forget — life doesn't.
Is there anything you'd want to say to yourself after this experience?
You don't have to control everything, or draw a conclusion from every experience — sometimes you just need to stay open. Going into this trip, I'd wished for peace and lightness in my new year. Now I'd add one more thing: stay soft. Because a new beginning doesn't always arrive as a big decision. Sometimes it's as small as a sunrise, two mandarins, or a birthday ceremony you never planned for. But looking back, you know — something has changed.