Unintentional Outcomes
How unintentional experiences have guided my intentional mindset
I’ve learned to love planning for a lack of plans, as the most memorable experiences are created unintentionally. This lesson dawned on me through travelling last year, to Asia and the Pacific, and helps me navigate life today. I’d like to share a few stories about those memories, and my life today.
Strangers’ Kindnesses
My friend, Julia, and I arrived in Phnom Penh, Cambodia, with some aggressively resistant bed bugs. Our final attempt to get rid of them relied on finding an electric drier, in a city with hanging laundry on every third rail. We changed into clean clothes, packed our backpacks and set out at sunset to see what we could find. As two women with warnings of fellow travelers to be cautious in Phnom Penh, we were slightly nervous to start our challenge. These nerves, we found, were completely unnecessary.
Every person we met in Phnom Penh was unfailingly kind and welcoming. As we walked down the street, the laundry place we found online no longer existed. Standing where we thought our destination was, in front of a boarded-up shop, a little old man walked up and tried to help. Language barriers limiting and hand motions failing, another young man stopped. He spoke English and translated our need for a drier to the older man. With the older man speaking Khmer and the younger man translating, as well as drawing from his own knowledge, they came up with some directions for another location. It felt as though our need had equally become their need. Their eagerness to help was touching. We thanked them and set off, with vague recollection of the patterns of rights and lefts but carrying supportive feelings, nonetheless. Eventually, we found a little laundry shop run by 4 women. The shop was long, with washers lining the left side, a drier at the back, and a long table down the middle to fold the laundry. One of the women had a little boy, maybe 2 or 3 years old, who waddled around the shop with his toys, stealing our attention. The women stayed up past close with us, helping us each dry our clothes. We helped the women fold some of their other clothes as they practiced a few words of their English. They shared little fruits from the local market, showing us how to peel them properly, repeating the name in Khmer. They helped us fold our clothes, and, when we tried to go to an ATM a few blocks away to take out more cash to pay, they urged us instead to go home. The following morning, we visited their local market and brought them some of the fruit they shared with us with the rest of what we owed. Their gracious smiles and greetings made the morning all the brighter.
The people we met that afternoon were so welcoming. They shared their help and their space; they shared a snippet of their lives with us, communicating almost solely through gestures and actions. The frustration of bed bugs presented this strong silver lining that highlighted the kindness of the communities in Phnom Penh.
Nature’s Beauty
Following my trip to Asia, I was lucky enough to study in New Zealand. My friends and I took separate cars with hopes to meet but nothing set in stone. Coincidentally, we found ourselves all together in Milford Sound, with no plans for the day. Driving along the road out of the Sound, we saw a sign for a hike called Gertrude Saddle. The sign at the bottom of the hike had a picture of a fog filled scene, reading “Do not attempt hike in these conditions”. Looking past the sign, at the hike, it looked as though the picture was taken that day. We all looked at each other with a couple chuckles, some shrugs and started hiking. The base of the hike started as a traverse across a flat plane, with long grasses grazing our thighs and the clouds hanging heavy in our view.
We came to an incline that climbed us high — finally breaking above the clouds to the stunning sunshine. Our view illuminated the mountainous bowl we were within, enlightening our ignorance to our surroundings.
The terrain changed from a defined grassy trail to large rocks with a self-guidance between markers, leaving it up to the individual how to work through the hike. I was overjoyed, hopping between rocks, making my own paths, absorbed in the task. We approached long, sloping rock slabs with helpful chains to wrestle ourselves up steep sections. A black lake emerged, adding a final touch of beauty to the incredible view of the mountain bowl filled with clouds. I was so incredibly content with our hike; such fun terrain, challenging inclines and beautiful views. I thought trekking the last 50 meters or so to the top of the saddle would only provide a higher view of the stunning surroundings we were already appreciating. Yet, overcoming the edge of the saddle, the view on the opposite side opened up to a mountain range that extended all the way to the Sound. The mountains dove from towering peaks straight into flat ground, overlapping like puzzle pieces. I truly can’t explain the feeling of shock that came over me. The sheer, raw beauty of the view — completely unexpected — was one of the most stunning moments I had ever shared. Experiencing the moment with such close friends was indescribable, even two years later.
On the way down, the clouds cleared completely, and we saw what we had hiked in the hours before — bringing a whole new setting. The grasslands showed a beautiful view of overlapping mountains as we walked back to the car, endlessly bringing new, unexpected perspectives of the scenery. With no prior knowledge of the hike, its views, it’s reviews, gave us the privilege of no judgments and the removal of a desired experience — liberating the ability to have a unique, independent experience.
Our Own Backyards
The last story I want to share is set in my life today. I spent this past summer at home in Toronto. I had wanted to go out to the west of Canada, but I had been waiting to hear back from a job that was based on the west coast. If I went out before getting the job, I was being redundant in my move, where I would have to go home and get my car to drive back out. If I didn’t go out and didn’t get the job, I wouldn’t get to go to the west coast in the summer. It was all very confusing, but a text from my friend from New Zealand saying she was heading to Vancouver Island settled it. With a tent and hand sanitizer, and without a job or a plan, I took a one-way flight to Vancouver Island.
I spent about 4 weeks seeing Canada’s island and the west coast with my friend, which truly reset my mind. Being so engrained in nature was humbling and grounding. Sharing space with the bears, the whales, and the trees. Resetting to properly appreciate Canada, the beauty of the nature and uproot the urban 4 months overthinking the pandemic. Speaking with other travelers, hearing their appreciation for being in Canada, and adopting back into the carpe diem mindset within my own country was refreshing. This trip helped me find the balance between keeping others and myself safe in a pandemic while bringing variety to new days.
I got the job I applied to on the west coast. I had to fly home and drive back out, which was redundant but a critical step. I’ve started work with a refreshed outlook on the adventure that can come from each day and each experience. A renewed curiosity to appreciate Canada above any other destination. A re-grounded appreciation to live life with a traveler’s mindset, whether or not I’m travelling. These days, I’ve been waking up with the sunrise on the mountains every morning in Canmore — a wonderful, intentional point in my life, fostered through unintentional experiences.
These little stories have had significant impact on my life, that I reflect on to guide my mindset. I hope, if anything, they inspire you to reflect on some of your personal experiences that might have occurred unintentionally that have added to your life or your mindset today.