Coin flips + coincidences
And how I ended up here
Hey friends,
Six years and 4ish months ago, I sat on a frosty riverbank in Canada and flipped an old gold pound coin I used to carry around in my pocket for such occasions.
“Australia or New Zealand?” I asked aloud. As was the ritual.
It was December 2018, and, at -11°C, was already getting too cold to camp. I'd been on the road for six years by then; the majority in much warmer climes.
Although I'd never been too bothered about visiting Australia or NZ, I was about to age out of the working holiday visa. I figured either would be a good spot to get my head down for a few months and top up my bank balance before getting back out onto the road.
I was also feeling a bit jaded and ready for a reset.
A few months prior, my beloved Cambodian paradise had been bulldozed. The nearby city was now all but unrecognisable; filled with half-finished high-rises and massive infrastructure changes that paved the way for a plethora of human rights abuses.
Amidst the grief of that, I was also still reeling and recovering from a mugging that had left me staring down the end of a machete in El Salvador.
Being alone was one of my favourite things, but I'd felt jumpy and on edge ever since. I knew it was time for a change, I just didn't know how big of a change it would be.
Fate, on the other hand, must have seen it coming.
I used to make most of my decisions by flipping coins. It was something I'd started doing soon after one of my best friends died in a car accident when I was 21. I even had a set of rules around it:
If you realise you know what you want the answer to be while the coin is in the air, trust the feeling. Don't look. It'll ruin the magic.
Don't flip twice, even if you don't like the answer, it'll make sense eventually.
If it doesn't work out, trust that something else will.
In 2014, the latter told me to stay in Cambodia instead of heading up into Laos after a border run.
In the end, though, the border guards wouldn't let us or our little blue moped, Scoots McGoots, back across there and then. Instead, we spent a few weeks in Laos and then crossed back into Cambodia, where I stayed for another few years.
This time, though, there was no second-guessing.
I also hadn't really thought about it at the time - especially as I was panic-booking the flight in an airport check-in line - but the day I arrived in Australia ended up being the exact same day that my friend had passed, eight years before.
March 22nd 2019.
I know I mentioned fate above, but if I'm totally honest, I'm still not sure how much I believe in higher powers or coincidences being more than just coincidences.
That said, I do believe that there are always forces at play in this world that we just can't understand; ones that tell flowers when to bloom, connect the tides and the moon, allow trees to speak to each other, animals to dream, and humans to imagine a better world. Even when it feels like everything is futile.
It was one of those moments where nothing makes sense, but everything makes sense, all at the same time.
Charlie had grown up in Sydney. I loved his accent and how he unashamedly wore UGG boots, even in the UK in the noughties. He reminded me that there was a big old world outside our tiny town bubble. One where men wore UGG boots, too.
When he died, everything changed.
The world seemed like a much crueller, less hopeful place. All but overnight, I gave up my dreams of joining the UN and changing the world from the top down.
Instead, I limped through my final semester of university, fuelled up on apathy and Red Bull, and ended up taking a job at a travel agency. (It turned out there weren't a lot of jobs for graduates of East Asian Studies with a special interest in human rights abuses in the DPRK. Especially in Yorkshire.)
Hindsight being 20/20, though, it's easy to see the meandering journey that led to my ending up on that riverbank.
The seeds of a life on the road were sown by helping others chase their dreams, and then realising those same doors were open to me, too. The first one-way ticket; the first paid travel writing article ($5!). All those years in Cambodia, a summer in Nepal, a winter in Amsterdam, seven months road-tripping across the US and Canada.
I knew it would all end eventually, but I wasn't ready for it to be then - and I certainly wasn't ready for it to be here of all places. But perhaps that was the point.
Still, as the rules went, I had to trust the coin.
Six years on, and that same hindsight has shown me that this too has been an integral part of the journey, even when I couldn’t see it at the time. A journey that has taught me to exist in the realms of both/and, rather than either/or.
As much as I still grieve my old life and my wandering ways (and days), I’m also incredibly grateful for my current one.
I’m grateful for that coin flip for leading me here; for giving me a home base to ride out COVID, my mum's young-onset Alzheimer’s journey, and the shift of my business away from travel writing and helping people build their dream trips to helping people imagine, own, and build their dream lives through creative mentoring and writing workshops and circles.
I’m grateful for how it’s taught me the benefits of growing roots and being settled somewhere; of building a community and deeper connections with a place and people - and how both hold you when the shit hits the fan.
I’m grateful for how it’s taught me to surrender and trust more than I ever have before, even when - especially when - it feels like there is far more at stake than a missed flight or a robbery in the jungle.
I’m grateful for all those years on the road and everything they taught me, too. The courage, the tenacity, the open-mindedness, the ability to see stories in everyone and everything. The seemingly limitless capacity for joy, awe, and wonder - and the crash that comes when you do actually reach those limits.
The realisation that humans were never meant to just explore externally, forever. We can’t be content with what we have when we're always focused on what's next.
We end up always wanting more, more, more, or to just see what's around the next corner (and then the next one).
I’m grateful for all the lessons. Even the hard ones. The ones forged in fire. The downs that have come from the epic highs. The spirals that come from questioning how you’ve ended up down here, when there’s all that out there.
I’m also grateful for the realisation that it isn’t just coin flips that can show you what you really want.
A notification about borders closing can push you to get the final flight into a country you never intended to call home but now never want to leave, just before the doors lock for years.
A dementia diagnosis can make you care more about your life, your legacy, and your community in ways you never have before. It can make you want to help others, to build deeper connections. It can inspire you to create something, make something, leave something.
In my case, I’m not sure what, yet - a book, a business, sure, but also something… more?
I guess that’s part of this current journey of exploration, too - the inner one, as opposed to the outer one.
The one where I still end up flipping coins, but they lead me to very different places - like signing up for a narrative therapy course and a 4-month circle facilitation training.
This time, though, I knew they were for me when the coin was in the air.
Reflection questions
What has been the most pivotal moment of your life?
Have you ever tried flipping coins to make decisions?
What is something awful that you’re grateful for? What has it taught you?
Do you feel more drawn to internal or external explorations in this current season of your life?
If you want to lean more into your stories and the gifts they've brought you - even those unwanted ones - I'd love for you to join me in a stories and sharing writing circle this coming Saturday (29/3) at 4.30pm AWST/8.30am GMT. RSVP here.
If you'd prefer to chat or be seen/supported on a 1:1 basis, I’m going to be offering a soft launch of my revamped creative mentoring offerings to new clients in April. Watch this space for more.
For now though, I'm going to retreat to my cave and hide from this sweltering autumn heat wave. I'm so over 40°C temps. Bring on winter!
Sending you so much love, as always.
Cxx
PS: If you enjoy my work or my words and want to dive in deeper you can:
Join me for a 1:1 creative mentoring call where we can talk about all of this and more.
Come to my monthly(ish) creative circles. The next one is Saturday, March 29th.
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i find that whenever i do a coin flip, i always know the answer i want when it's mid-air, which is incredibly clarifying!!
Love the coin flip idea! I’m gonna try that next time I’m in a pickle. The most pivotal moment for me was when I was getting divorced in 2019 and moved to Amsterdam (sort of on a whim with no real plan). It changed my life, for the best!