Why I Spent My Birthday Alone in Paris (and Why It Changed Everything)

This birthday wasn’t about celebration in the traditional sense.
It was about space.

Space to think.
Space to listen.
Space to reflect on who I’ve been, what I’ve built, and who I’m becoming next.

Spending a full week alone in Paris—especially on my Solar Return—felt like a luxury I didn’t take lightly. I felt deep gratitude for the privilege of being able to step outside my daily roles and responsibilities and devote uninterrupted time to intention-setting, journaling, and planning the year ahead.

Each day was slow and deliberate. Filled with embodiment practices. Long walks. Quiet meals. Rituals that didn’t need witnesses. And intentional purchases—books, fragrances, small objects—that weren’t souvenirs, but anchors for the version of myself I’m stepping into this year.

This wasn’t escapism.
It was alignment.

And one of the most powerful moments of the week happened in Montmartre, in front of a church most people walk past without noticing.

The Quietest Church in Montmartre (and the Most Powerful Ritual I Did All Week)

Most visitors go to Montmartre for Sacré-Cœur. I did too—but I didn’t linger.

Instead, I found myself sitting at a café facing Saint-Pierre de Montmartre. Smaller. Older. Almost hidden in plain sight.

And immediately, I knew this was where I was meant to be. 

While Sacré-Cœur dominates the skyline, Saint-Pierre is:

• understated

• inward
• almost easy to miss

Yet it is the spiritual root of the hill.

This mirrors a core truth of your year ahead:

The most powerful parts of your identity and work are not the loudest — they are the oldest and most integrated.

Why Saint-Pierre de Montmartre Matters

Saint-Pierre de Montmartre is one of the oldest churches in Paris, founded in 1147. It predates Sacré-Cœur by more than 700 years.

What makes it extraordinary isn’t just its age—it’s where it stands.

The hill of Montmartre was considered sacred long before Christianity. It was used for outdoor, earth-based rites tied to fertility, nourishment, seasons, and life cycles. When Christianity arrived, it didn’t erase that energy. It built over it, anchoring something already powerful rather than creating something new.

This place isn’t about spectacle.
It’s about rooted sovereignty.

The kind of power that comes from continuity. From endurance. From what has lasted long enough to stop needing validation.

That theme echoed everything I was reflecting on during this trip.

The Ritual (Exactly As I Did It)

This wasn’t something I planned in advance. It unfolded naturally—which is often how the most meaningful rituals do.

Lunch First: Embodiment Before Intention

I ate lunch facing the church.

No phone.
No scrolling.
No planning.

I simply noticed:

• the temperature of the air

• the weight of my body in the chair

• the fact that this building has watched hundreds of thousands of ordinary days become history

This space responds to presence, not urgency.

After eating, I opened my journal and wrote one prompt:

What part of my life no longer needs to be rushed to be valid?

One sentence answered it.

Before Entering: What I’m Rooting Into

Before stepping inside, I titled a page:

“What I Am Rooting Into”

And answered:

• What has proven itself over time in my life, even when no one was watching?

• What do I trust now that I used to second-guess?

• What am I done explaining?

I closed with:

This year, I lead from what is already true.

The Doorway Pause

At the door, I stopped.

One hand on my body.
A slow inhale through my nose.
A long exhale through my mouth.

Silently:

I enter as I am. I leave as I decide.

Then I walked in—no performance, no reverence. Just presence.

Inside: Letting the Year Speak

I sat where I felt drawn, not where I “should.”

I wrote:

This is the year I…

And finished the sentence five times without editing.

Some years ask for strategy.
This one asked for honesty.

The Quiet Vow

Saint-Pierre isn’t a wishing place.
It’s a vow place.

Instead of asking for anything, I made one vow:

I vow to remain faithful to ________, even when ________.

Just one.

Leaving: Sealing the Moment

When I left, I didn’t turn back.

I walked a few steps downhill, took one deep breath, and silently said:

This is now part of me.

Some moments are meant to be carried, not documented.

The Practical Part: How I Got to Paris for $12

Here’s what I want you to know:
This trip wasn’t a fantasy—it was repeatable.

I flew to Paris for $12.

That flight was booked using reward travel points earned from money I was already spending on groceries, bills, and everyday life. No luxury spend. No chaos. No hacking gymnastics.

I teach this entire system step-by-step on my YouTube channel, including:

• how to earn the right kind of points (this matters more than people realize)

• why most families get stuck with unusable rewards

• how to plan travel that actually fits real life

👉  How I Booked a Flight to Paris for $12
👉 Why Most Families Earn the Wrong Points

If You Want to Create This Kind of Space Too

If you want a clear, calm, repeatable system for using points—without stress or overwhelm—I put everything I teach into my Reward Travel Starter System.

It’s built for:

• busy women

• families

• people who want aligned travel, not chaos

👉 Learn more about the Reward Travel Starter System

Final Reflection

This week in Paris reminded me that the most powerful shifts don’t come from doing more.

They come from making space.

For stillness.
For reflection.
For becoming.

Sometimes that space looks like a quiet church in Montmartre.
Sometimes it looks like a $12 flight and the courage to go alone.

And sometimes, it looks like finally trusting what’s already been true all along.