13 min readJust now

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At 23 years old, I find myself working as an AI researcher in Germany while finishing my computer engineering degree in Turkey. It’s a path that seemed unlikely a few years ago — I even had to repeat a year of university due to a low GPA. Growing up, I was taught to value istikrar (stability), yet my own journey has been full of twists. Over time, I learned to balance the stability I craved with the unpredictability that life (and research) inevitably brings. In this post, I want to share the key lessons from my journey so far — about financial trust, the illusion of luck, and embracing uncertainty — backed by insights that helped shape my perspective.

Growing Up with “Stability” in Turkey

I was born and raised in Turkey during a period of remarkable political continuity. Since 2003, Turkey has essentially been led by one man — Recep Tayyip Erdoğan (first as Prime Minister, then as President). For over two decades, his rule was often justified in the name of istikrar, the Turkish word for stability. As a child, I heard that word repeatedly. The idea was that keeping the same leadership meant a steady, secure country. This upbringing instilled in me a deep appreciation for consistency. I saw stability as something to strive for — whether it was a stable career or finances or life in general.

Yet the irony of life is that it seldom stays still. Despite the rhetoric of istikrar, Turkey itself went through upheavals — economic swings, social changes — and so did I. I wasn’t a top student (my GPA hovered around 1.8 out of 4), and I even failed a year of university. That was a personal low point, seemingly the opposite of stability. But it taught me resilience. Stability, I realized, isn’t about never faltering; it’s about getting back up and staying true to your goals after you stumble. In a country and environment obsessed with consistency, I learned that real stability comes from persistence through change, not the absence of change.

Trust and Frugality Over Flash

One of the most important lessons I learned early is about money and trust. When I started earning my own income — about €1,500 to €2,000 a month working at two companies — I had a choice: spend it on lifestyle upgrades or secure my future. In Turkey, there’s a saying that many take to heart: “Don’t save what is left after spending; spend what is left after saving.” I decided that owning assets (like a home one day) matters more than owning fancy clothes or the latest phone. This meant living below my means and diligently saving whatever I could.

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A simple piggy bank on a pile of pennies — a reminder that wealth grows not from what you earn, but from what you keep and invest wisely.

However, saving money is easier said than done. If I left cash in my bank account, I’d inevitably find a reason to spend it. (The system makes spending frictionless — one tap of a card and your balance drops.) So I devised a system: I withdraw savings as cash, buy gold with it, and hand that gold to my father for safekeeping. Why gold and why my father? In Turkey, it’s common to trust gold over the volatile local currency — in fact, Turkish households are estimated to hold around $500 billion worth of gold “under the pillow,” largely due to a lack of trust in the lira and in banks. Gold is a hedge against inflation and devaluation, both of which we’ve seen plenty of. By converting my savings to gold, I remove the temptation of instant spending and protect my money’s value.

The second element is trust. I’m fortunate to have a father who is financially savvy and extremely reliable — he has managed large sums of money for years. I literally trust him with my future wealth. Handing him my saved gold each month does two things: it puts the money out of my easy reach, and it gives me peace of mind that it’s in safe hands. The importance of having someone trustworthy to help guard your wealth can’t be overstated. You might earn a lot, but if you don’t know how to hold onto it, it can vanish overnight. Building wealth is 20% making money and 80% managing it safely over the long term.

This approach might sound unusual, but it works for me. In fact, it turns out my habits align with how many self-made millionaires operate. Studies reveal that most millionaires become wealthy by being frugal and disciplined savers, not by indulging in luxuries. They live in modest homes, drive practical cars, and consistently invest a chunk of their income. I’ve tried to do the same. To summarize my strategy:

• Pay yourself first: I treat savings like a non-negotiable expense. The moment I get my paycheck, I convert a significant portion to savings (in gold) before I even feel tempted to spend it.
• Out of sight, out of mind: Cash sitting in my daily bank account is too accessible. By moving savings into gold (and storing it with someone I trust), I make sure I can’t impulsively dip into it.
• Invest in assets, not toys: I forego the latest gadgets or fashion, aiming instead to put money into something that will grow or at least hold value. My ultimate goal is to put these savings toward a property — a stable asset for the future.

Following these principles required a mindset shift. In a consumerist world, it’s not flashy to live below your means. But I remind myself that ownership (of a home, for example) will mean more to me in ten years than owning the newest smartphone today. Delayed gratification is hard, but every gram of gold I save brings me closer to financial freedom. And importantly, I haven’t done it alone — I’ve leaned on the trust and stability of my family to help me stay disciplined. In that sense, I created my own little ecosystem of istikrar: a stable plan to gradually turn my hard-earned income into lasting wealth.

Luck: No Such Thing?

After growing up in Istanbul, I made a leap that many around me thought was “lucky” — I moved to Germany and landed a job here in my field. People say, “You’re so lucky to be there at 23!” But when I reflect on it, I don’t buy that explanation. Luck, as most people think of it, feels like a convenient myth. It’s the word we use to explain success (or failure) that we don’t fully understand. In my case, was it luck? Or was it the result of choices and persistence? I chose to apply to opportunities abroad. I persisted through rejections until I got an offer. I prepared by learning German and building my skills. These actions put me in a position to “get lucky.” To outside observers, it may look like fortune smiled randomly, but I know every step that led here.

I’m not alone in viewing luck with skepticism. Ancient thinkers and modern researchers alike have noted that what we call luck often boils down to mindset and preparation. The Roman philosopher Seneca famously said, “Luck is where opportunity meets preparation.” In other words, being prepared allows you to benefit from opportunities that arise, which others might miss — nothing mystical about it. Centuries later, scientific studies have backed this up. Psychologist Richard Wiseman conducted a well-known study on people who considered themselves lucky vs unlucky. The results were telling: the “lucky” people weren’t clairvoyant or magical; they simply noticed and seized opportunities that the “unlucky” people overlooked. Both groups encountered similar opportunities in life, but those who expected good fortune were more open to spotting them and acting on them.

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What we often label as “luck” is really probability and perception. Being prepared and open-minded can loaded the dice in your favor.

Humans are natural pattern-finders — we crave explanations for why things happen. Sometimes, when events line up in an improbable way, we declare it was “fate” or “luck.” But consider this insight from an analysis of scientific discoveries: when a series of coincidences leads to a breakthrough, people often say “it cannot just be a coincidence,” implying some mysterious force was at work. In reality, random chance plays a bigger role than we admit. Our brains retrospectively weave a narrative, turning chance into what looks like a meaningful pattern. It’s comforting to think there was a grand plan (or that the universe rewarded you), but it can be an illusion created by hindsight.

So, I have come to believe that luck does not exist in the magical sense. What exists is probability, cause and effect, and human agency. By this view, I didn’t “get lucky” moving to Germany — I increased the probability of such an outcome by working towards it. Sure, chance still plays a role in life. I could have met the right person at a networking event purely by chance, who then opened a door for my career. But if I hadn’t put myself in that room, no lucky meeting would’ve occurred. As the saying goes, chance favors the prepared mind. I try to focus on the things I can control (like acquiring skills, meeting people, applying myself) and then let probability handle the rest.

Rejecting the myth of luck is liberating. It means I give myself credit for the outcomes I’ve earned and take responsibility for the missteps. It also means I don’t wait around for fortune to find me — I’m out there increasing my odds. There’s even a modern concept called the “Luck Surface Area,” which basically states: the more actions you take and the more people you connect with, the larger your exposure to “lucky” events. One entrepreneur put it this way: when facing a decision, choose the path that gives you a larger luck surface area. In practical terms, that might mean attending that optional workshop, starting that side project, or talking to that stranger at a meetup. You never know which one could serendipitously change your life.

My siblings and friends sometimes chalk up my progress to luck, perhaps to comfort themselves that I had an advantage they didn’t. But I encourage them to see it differently: if luck is something we create, then they have the power to create it too. Adopt an opportunistic mindset, step outside the comfort zone, and stay persistent — eventually, what others call luck will start happening to you as well. It’s not magic; it’s just math and mindset.

Embracing the Unpredictable Process

If there’s one thing I’ve learned in both life and in doing AI research, it’s that unpredictability is not the enemy — it’s often where the magic happens. When I first delved into artificial intelligence and complex systems, I was fascinated by how often breakthroughs come from unexpected angles. You start researching one problem, and along the way you stumble on a completely different insight. In fact, I introduced something called Alpay Algebra in my research — a concept unifying classical algebra with explainable AI — and that discovery emerged from wandering off the beaten path of conventional theory. I didn’t wake up and decide “Today I will invent a new algebra”; it evolved from countless little experiments and questions, many of which didn’t go as expected. This is the nature of exploration: you don’t always know where you’re going to end up, and that’s okay.

We’re often taught to plan everything: set a goal, make a checklist, execute step by step. Planning has its place, but rigid plans can blind us to unexpected opportunities. I’ve learned to stay in the process — to immerse myself in work or learning without a rigid notion of the final outcome. When you stay in the process, you allow curiosity and adaptability to guide you. Some of the best opportunities in my life arose when I deviated from my initial plan. Moving to Germany, for instance, was not on my radar during my first years of college. I was focused on finishing my degree in Turkey. But an unexpected contact and a chance to work on a project in Germany appeared, and I kept an open mind. It felt unpredictable and risky, but embracing that unknown set me on a new, better path.

History is full of examples showing the benefits of embracing unpredictability. Many groundbreaking inventions and discoveries were accidents or side-effects of someone pursuing something else. A famous case is the invention of safety glass. In 1903, the French chemist Édouard Bénédictus accidentally dropped a glass flask in his lab. The flask broke but, to his surprise, it didn’t shatter into pieces — it was held together by a coating of cellulose nitrate plastic that had lined the flask. This chance mishap led to the invention of laminated shatterproof glass, the kind now used in car windshields. Bénédictus wasn’t trying to invent safety glass that day; the discovery emerged unpredictably from an accident. Such moments of serendipity reveal the unpredictable nature of innovation. If Bénédictus had swept up the “failed” experiment and thrown it away without a second thought, he’d have missed one of the 20th century’s great safety innovations.

The lesson I take from stories like this — and from my own twists and turns — is that we should lean into uncertainty rather than run from it. Unpredictability is often where growth happens. Trying something new, even if the outcome is unclear, expands your horizons or “surface area” for success. On the flip side, if you only ever do what’s certain and comfortable, you might avoid failure, but you also avoid the possibility of extraordinary success. There’s a quote I love: “If you want something you’ve never had, you must be willing to do something you’ve never done.” Embracing the unknown is how I’ve opened new doors in my life and career.

Of course, unpredictability can be scary. There were times I doubted my choices — like when I took on a research project that was way over my head, or when I moved to a new country not knowing if I’d fit in. In those moments, it helped to remember that even if I couldn’t predict the end point, I could trust myself to adapt along the way. In fact, operating in uncertain territory forces you to learn and adapt faster. It’s a feature, not a bug. Unpredictability also teaches you humility — you don’t assume you know everything, which makes you open to learning from anywhere and anyone.

So I try to strike a balance: maintain some stability in values and vision (my “fixed points,” like wanting to contribute to AI or secure my family’s future), but stay flexible about the route to get there. I set goals, yes, but I don’t rigidly insist on how I achieve them. This approach has led me to some incredible experiences that I would have missed if I had clung to the original plan.

Trusting the Process

If I could send a message back to my younger self — that 18-year-old kid in Istanbul just starting university — it would be this: Keep your eyes on your own journey and trust the process. Life is not a straight line, and that’s the beauty of it. The combination of stability and flexibility has been key for me. I keep certain things rock-steady: my integrity, my work ethic, my commitment to save and improve. Those are my constants, my anchors. But I’ve learned to stay flexible about opportunities and outcomes: to ride the wave of a chance internship or a spontaneous project, even if it carries me somewhere unplanned.

In practical terms, trusting the process means having faith that small, consistent actions will compound into significant results, even if I can’t see them immediately. Every month that I save in gold, I’m a step closer to my first property purchase — it’s not here yet, but the process is working. Every extra project I take on or new topic I learn in AI is expanding my skill set — I might not use it all today, but it could prove invaluable tomorrow. You don’t always know which effort will pay off, but if you put genuine effort into enough areas, something will. This mindset keeps me from getting discouraged on tough days.

Writing this post has been a chance to reflect on how far I’ve come and the principles guiding me. From a struggling student in Turkey to a researcher in Germany, the journey taught me the importance of consistency, trust, and embracing uncertainty. I’ve come to see that things often work out in ways we couldn’t have predicted. The important part is to prepare and position ourselves so that when the right window opens, we can leap through it.

In summary, my story so far boils down to a few big takeaways I hope others find useful:

• Stability is built, not given — It comes from persistent effort and learning from mistakes. Falling down doesn’t mean you lack stability; getting back up does.
• Wealth is what you save, not what you spend — Flashy spending can make you look rich, but consistent saving and investing will make you rich (in assets and peace of mind). Find people you trust to help you stay on track, and don’t be afraid to do things differently from the crowd to secure your future.
• Luck is largely an illusion — Don’t wait for luck to find you. Create your own luck by being prepared, staying positive, and putting yourself out there. What others see as luck is often the visible result of unseen diligence or openness to opportunity.
• Unpredictability opens paths — When you come to a fork in the road, don’t always take the safe, known route. Some of my best decisions were leaps into the unknown. As long as you stay true to your values, venturing into uncertainty can lead to innovation and growth (and even the occasional breakthrough you weren’t looking for).

I’m still at the beginning of my journey in many ways. I know there will be more surprises, setbacks, and successes ahead. But I feel ready for them. By cultivating stability in the things I can control and embracing uncertainty in the things I can’t, I’ve found a balance that works for me. It’s a mindset that keeps me optimistic and resilient. If you’ve read this far, I hope my experiences resonated with you. Take what’s useful, leave what’s not. After all, everyone’s path is unique — and that’s what makes life an adventure.

In the end, maybe istikrar (stability) and unpredictability aren’t opposites, but partners. Stability gives you the foundation to take risks, and unpredictability gives you the opportunities to build something new on that foundation. Trust the process, stay curious, and remember: the only real “luck” is what we make for ourselves. Good fortune is out there, but it’s waiting for you to reach out and grab it. Go for it.