A necklace in our collection makes me smile every time I see it. One day, I’ll mint it in 24kt gold for myself. I’ve always felt drawn to it, though it took me years to realize why.
I was in my twenties, somewhere between reckless and free, traveling Europe with a friend. We found ourselves in a Paris train station, where the air smelled of old stone, cigarette smoke, and espresso. We decided to pick a random time and take the next Eurail train closest to that moment: no destination, no hotel booked, no idea where we’d end up. Just the road ahead and the understanding that it wouldn’t all be good, but it would mostly be good.
It was the kind of gamble you can only make when you have nothing but time and trust that the world will catch you when you leap. It felt like freedom, like excitement, like friends you hadn’t met yet.
Years later, while I was off teaching and raising my family, my dad added a new design to our collection: The Traveler Necklace. I didn’t give it much thought at the time. It wasn’t until I spoke with a young adult at one of our fairs that the symbol landed for me. They chose The Traveler alongside an Anchor medallion. “I love to travel,” they told me, “but the anchor reminds me to stay grounded in my faith.”
I loved hearing that. It reminded me that these symbols aren’t just old designs — they carry personal meanings, evolving with the people who wear them.
The Traveler itself is a mystery. Some believe it’s tied to the Roma people, travelers who journeyed from India across Europe and North Africa as early as 1050 A.D. The design hints at the rose compass, a guide for wayfarers navigating by sun and star. It reminds me of both the sun and a compass—a radiant wheel for those who trust the road.
The Traveler is an old archetype, too. In folktales, they’re often tricksters — figures who stir the pot, ask strange questions, and appear in unexpected places. I’ve been reading The Dangerous Old Woman by Clarissa Pinkola Estés, and she writes about how the wise woman is often disguised as a trickster, a shapeshifter, and a disruptor. That felt fitting.
It also made me think of my son, a devoted Dungeons & Dragons fan, who once told me about The Traveler god in the Faiths of Eberron. In that world, the Traveler is a god of trickery, chaos, artifice, and travel — walking the world in countless forms, offering protection and upheaval to those who dare to move between places and selves. Their symbol, an eight-pointed configuration of crossed bones, isn’t so far off from the spirit of the one around my neck.
We also carry the Vegvísir, the Viking compass meant to keep its bearer from getting lost in storm and fog, but The Traveler feels different to me. It is less about control and more about trust. It speaks to that part of us that wants to see where the world takes us without needing the map.
Today, people wear it for all kinds of reasons. For some, it’s wanderlust; for others, it’s a reminder to stay spiritually anchored while exploring new places or ideas. It belongs to the modern nomads, the digital drifters chasing meaning on the open road or in quiet places inside themselves.
It’s one of those medallions people pick up at our booth and say, “This feels like me.”
I often find myself reminiscing about that Paris train station. I faintly recall cities and the long stretches of track that connect them. There’s a certain excitement in not knowing where you’ll end up. This necklace serves as a tangible reminder of that memory—an emblem of faith in the world’s vastness, the winding nature of life’s journey, and the belief that you’ll uncover what you truly need, even if it diverges from your initial plans.