No matter where in the world I am, I crave community.
There is a Spanish word I keep coming back to: conviviendo. It roughly means living together, sharing life, coexisting, being with others in a way that feels natural and human. It is not just community as an idea. It is community in motion. People gathering, talking, eating, listening, playing, helping, and simply being near each other.
And it is not just being around people or meeting someone for dinner / exchanging travel tips. I mean the kind of community where people are willing to be present, vulnerable, curious, and open. The kind where a simple conversation leaves you feeling a little more human.
My family and I have been lucky to spend a month in the Iberian Peninsula, primarily in Southern Spain. We split our time between two towns, La Herradura and Estepona. There is something about this part of the world that keeps pulling us in. The warmth of the people and climate with the slower rhythm. The way life seems to spill into plazas, beaches, cafés, and long conversations.
We love it so much that we’ve already started daydreaming about making this a family tradition. Maybe we come back to this part of Spain every year. Maybe this becomes one of those places our kids remember not as a vacation, but as part of their childhood story.
We’ll see if it happens.
As part of our exploration, we found a group of expats in Estepona who meet once a week at the beach. Most had relocated to Estepona or nearby towns within the last five years. The invitation was simple: “Come as you are. Open to all.”
That alone felt special.
The founder of the gathering, Cassandra, told me she didn’t like calling it a “group.” She started it because she was looking for community. I think she found something much bigger than that. She created a small doorway for other people to find theirs.
Some people come once and leave their mark. Others come every week and continue building memories together.
That sentence stayed with me.
Because isn’t that what community is? Some people become part of your daily life. Others appear briefly, share a story, ask a good question, or make your kids laugh on a beach in Spain, and somehow still leave something behind.
There were about ten adults there that day. We didn’t get to meet everyone, but the people we did meet gave us their attention and time. They welcomed us with open arms.
We met a couple in their late 50s who had sold a business in Canada and decided to build a new chapter in Spain. We met a woman from Chile who came looking for peace and growth. We met a gentleman from the UK who had lived in the U.S. for 30 years and was now building a life between Gibraltar and the UK, while also being thoughtful about taxes.
My kids ended up hanging out with other kids from Estonia and the UK. Their parents were people we barely had a chance to speak with, but somehow our children were already doing what children do so naturally. They found each other. They played. They belonged before anyone explained why they should.
Every week, the host sets an intention with a question. That day’s question was:
“How do you define success?”
It was a beautiful question for that setting because everyone there had taken a different path. Some had sold businesses and moved to Spain. Some were retired. Some were rebuilding careers. Some were searching for peace. Some were simply trying to create a more intentional life.
On paper, many of these people had already achieved some version of success.
But when they spoke, they didn’t talk much about titles, money, houses, or accomplishments. They talked about peace. They talked about freedom. They talked about health. They talked about finding people they could be themselves with.
They talked about community … that hit me.
As I move through my mid-40s, I’m realizing that success has always been connected to community for me. I may not have always said it clearly. I may have chased other versions of success at the same time: money, career, achievement, the house, the next milestone. Those things mattered too, and some still do.
But underneath it all, the moments that have made me feel most alive have almost always involved bringing people together.
I see it in friends gathered around a table, in a retreat where strangers slowly become vulnerable with each other, in a cohort learning about money together, in families connecting while traveling, and in kids finding other kids on a beach.
Maybe success is not just what you build for yourself. Maybe success is also what you help others feel part of.
The Webster dictionary defines community as a group of people who share a common location, identity, or set of interests. But the deeper version of community is more than sharing the same space. It is the feeling of being supported, connected, and like you belong.
I felt that on the beach in Estepona.
It reminded me that community doesn’t have to be complicated. It doesn’t need a perfect structure, a membership model, a five-year plan, or a big vision statement. Sometimes your beach towel can become your front porch, your question can become your doorway, and your openness can become your invitation.
That’s it.
You don’t always need to wait until you are settled, until you are home, until you know everyone, until the timing is perfect. You can create small moments of community wherever you are.
Maybe it starts by inviting someone for coffee, asking a better question, and putting your phone away long enough to really listen. Maybe it means going to the recurring gathering, even if you feel a little awkward at first, or saying yes when someone invites you into something new. And maybe, if the thing you are looking for does not exist yet, it means creating it yourself, even in the smallest possible way.
Most importantly, it means showing up as you are.
Because life is richer when we build communities for all the different parts of ourselves. The parent part. The traveler part. The career part. The spiritual part. The playful part. The part that wants ambition. The part that wants peace. The part that wants to be known. The part that loves fútbol (World Cup season!).
We are diverse people with layered lives. One community will not always hold all of us. That’s okay. Maybe the goal is not to find one perfect community, but to keep creating and joining small circles of belonging that make life feel more colorful.
A beach gathering in Estepona reminded me of something I already knew but needed to feel again:
Wherever you are, you can practice community. You can practice conviviendo.
And sometimes the first step is as simple as asking a question and leaving room for people to answer honestly.
