Aligned & Awake: Practicing Connection in Real Time

Travelling alone and choosing connection, even when it’s awkward

Aligned & Awake
My reflections on life through travel, human design, energy, astrology, and emotional clarity. Not as a guru. Just one person figuring it out in real time.

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It’s easier to hide in an Airbnb.

You can order groceries. Close the door. Light a candle. Talk to no one. Pretend solitude is a personality trait with a skin care routine.

I know. I’ve done it.

Instead, I keep choosing co-livings.

Not because I’m wildly confident or socially effortless. Because I’m rusty. Because I forget how to people when I’m left alone too long. And connection, real connection, needs practice.

In January, I was in Spain. Ibiza, technically. A co-living that was almost empty. Just me, my notebook, and a lot of quiet. The kind of quiet that feels peaceful at first, then overstays its welcome.

Now I’m in Normandy, France. A chateau. Writers everywhere. Long tables. Shared meals. Conversations that wander from craft to grief to laughter and back again. The kind of place where no one flinches when you say, “I’m figuring things out.”

My home for the month - pinching myself I get to live here

There is no better feeling than being surrounded by people who get you.

Compassionate. Generous. Empathetic. Kind. Happy in that grounded way. Not performative. Not hustling. Present.

This is what makes travel feel alive.

Co-living isn’t a hostel. And it’s not a hotel either. It’s its own quiet middle ground. People who travel a lot, sometimes full-time. Digital nomads. Creatives. Humans who want connection and also respect a closed door.

Most of us are in bed by ten. Which, frankly, feels luxurious.

You get your own space. Your own rhythm. Then shared kitchens, long walks, spontaneous dinners, and the occasional awkward first conversation that turns into something real.

I’ve met people through co-livings who are still in my life. Different countries. Different seasons. Same thread.

Travelling alone doesn’t have to mean being lonely.

It can mean choosing rooms where conversation happens. Tables where you’re invited to sit down. Places that gently pull you back into the world.

I force myself out, softly. Awkwardly and honestly.

Hiding is easy, but living takes courage.

I’m not talking about the loud kind of courage. I’m talking about the kind that says, “go sit down anyway, say your name, open your mouth and babe, let your beautiful self be seen.”

Every time I choose people over isolation, something in me wakes up.

It’s the part that remembers I have a voice. That I’m interesting. That I belong in the room. That what I notice, what I say, what I laugh at, lands somewhere. It’s the feeling of being witnessed, and in that witnessing, reconnecting with myself again.

Connection doesn’t pull me away from who I am. It brings me closer.

I remember things about myself when I’m with others. My humour. My curiosity. My edges. My tenderness. Alone is restorative. Too much alone gets quiet in a way that erases.

I need my people. In small doses. In shared meals. In passing conversations that turn into something real.

That’s where I come back to life.

If you’ve been thinking about travelling solo, consider co-living. You might be surprised where it takes you. Physically. Emotionally. Mentally. Spiritually.

Sometimes the journey isn’t about where you go.

It’s about who you sit beside once you get there.

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If you are curious….
I’m a member of Outsite, a global co-living community with locations around the world. If you’re curious and want to try it, I have a referral link that gives you $50 USD off your first stay. No pressure. Just an option, if it feels aligned.

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Tell Me…

Have you ever surprised yourself by choosing connection when it would’ve been easier to hide?

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