I’m writing this from a quiet spot just outside the hustle of Illuminate 2025.
The hum of conversation, the footsteps, the energy – it’s all still fresh in the air around me. My dear friend Tracey Vavrek, who embodies grace and leadership in equal measure, and who with her team was our amazing host in Halfiax, asked me earlier, as she always does with humility and care, “How are you finding the experience?” I didn’t need to think. The words just came out: “It feels like an Indian wedding.”
And it does.
There is celebration. There is connection. There is love. There is some tension. There is wisdom. There are intergenerational conversations, spontaneous hugs, curious questions, and long-overdue reunions. There’s the unmistakable feeling of being part of something – of being held in a space where presence itself becomes the point. In a world that often prizes efficiency over emotion, this space feels almost radical.
We often hear the question, especially in budget meetings, about the continued relevance of in-person conferences. With all that’s possible through digital technology today, why spend time, money, and energy flying hundreds of people into one place? It’s a reasonable question. But like many things in life, what looks logical on paper doesn’t always capture the full truth. Not everything that matters can be measured, and not everything that’s measured matters.
Conferences like this one are often viewed through a transactional lens: cost vs. outcome, inputs vs. impact. But when we gather in person, we access something beyond the transactional. We create something relational, something emotional, something sensory. We create a space that algorithms can’t quite reach and where agendas often give way to serendipity. Conversations happen in hallways that spark new thinking. Trust is built not just through shared ideas, but through shared meals and shared laughter. It’s a kind of social infrastructure that no Zoom room can replicate.
Especially today, when the world is navigating a complex landscape of burnout, isolation, and division, the need to be physically present with one another is more urgent than we sometimes admit. We are, after all, social beings. And while screens have brought convenience and reach, they’ve also hollowed out something essential – unstructured presence. The accidental hello. The lingering chat. The knowing glance across a table. These are the things that make us feel human. These are the things that make change possible.
This conference, like many such gatherings in the community foundation network, brings together people who care deeply about community, belonging, justice, and the future. And while every experience is shaped by perspective, what stands out is the care with which space has been held. It’s a setting that invites both reflection and imagination. A place where people can breathe a little deeper, listen a little longer, and be reminded of the work that connects them. A place where the undercurrent is not just information, but invitation – to lean in, to be present, to be honest.
The truth is, convening like this – on this scale, with this kind of intentionality – isn’t just important for economic development or policy shifts. It’s vital for personal renewal. It’s the kind of space that reminds you why you started doing this work in the first place. It reconnects you with a broader ecosystem. It reawakens the part of you that believes in something bigger, even when the work gets heavy. And it reminds you, as it reminded me, of the weddings we attend not because we must, but because we belong.
At the last Indian wedding I attended, I was embraced by aunts I’d never met, who kissed my forehead and told me how happy they were just to see me. This experience, this conference, feels the same. People you’ve never met greet you with warmth because you’re part of the same fabric. It’s not about familiarity; it’s about shared purpose. You show up for each other not just for the content but for the context. Because shared context is what allows complex ideas to take root and grow.
And maybe that’s the real reason these gatherings matter. Not for what happens on the stage, but for what they make possible off it. Not just for the strategies that get shaped, but for the spirit in which they’re held. Because ideas don’t move communities – people do. And people move when they’re moved.
It’s easy to get caught in the logic of efficiency, to default to online forums and hybrid models and asynchronous engagement. But we need to remember that leadership isn’t just about getting things done. It’s about holding space. About being present. About modeling what community actually looks like.
So, while this piece began as a moment of quiet reflection just outside a conference venue, it has grown into something more – a reminder to myself, and maybe to you, that showing up still matters. That in-person still matters. That being in the room, in all its chaos and beauty, is still one of the most powerful things we can do.
Because at the end of the day, it’s not just a conference.
It feels like an Indian wedding. And who would want to miss that?
