Communities are empowering places. They're built on intention and sometimes instinct. They're also incredibly forgiving, and not just in the literal sense. We belong to communities we don't even actively participate in. But in the ones we do, they might just open up a world of perspective.

I've always been drawn to communities like that. Creating them and making sure they feel organic. So naturally, when I attended my first Frappeverse, it didn't feel unfamiliar. Just different. I'd heard more than enough about the event to be quite excited. But nothing prepared me for how alive it felt (I blame myself for believing the stereotype of a conference). In between sessions, people crowded around tables chatting up ideas. 15 minute tea breaks turned into long term discussions and there was no stopping!

Some people walked up to me, smiling, asking about more podcast episodes. Others offered to share their stories. Most people were just happy to talk about open source and how the community changed the way they work.

There was no sense of power in the room. Just the pulse of a shared mission (this is better felt than written). Nobody dressed to impress, people were themselves. It sounds simple enough but felt rare. This was just a room full of people who got it.

Since then, I've spotted parallels in the small everyday moments too. During a shoot for new podcast episodes, we laughed through the entire thing. We shared childhood stories, admitted what we didn't know and learnt from each other without any pretense. That's what a good community feels like; honest and incredibly generous.

I've been back at Frappe for 7 months now. Talking to partners and contributors from across the world, and there's a pattern. Every single one of them credits the community. Unprompted. Either for pushing them to do better or giving them the freedom to make mistakes and learn from others. Most of all, for helping them build something that's not just connected to a great product, but also meaningful.

When I did my first stint at Frappe in 2021, I didn't come from a tech background. I didn't even know what open source actually meant. I walked into a company that worked on trust. People picked their own pay, chose their own work and created freely. I tried to figure it out. Eventually through the work and people I understood what a standard of openness could really do.

In 2025, being back here, that meaning has only deepened. Open source isn't just about code, it builds a certain kind of community too. With people who are willing to give without gatekeeping. There's no single blueprint for such communities. Just a loop of contribution and curiosity. Nobody is waiting for permission to do something. And that same freedom breeds responsibility. To keep things real and keep the culture alive.

Attending Frappeverse for the first time felt like I got a peek inside this community. And I'm sure that this is just the beginning. There's more to learn & more to give. More importantly, there are more stories to share. But for now, I'm just glad to be part of something that proves that community isn't an abstract idea. And the only way to keep it alive is to keep showing up.