Journeys

Sometimes, rarely, you emerge from an experience with your brain a bit lighter, brighter, oxygenated.

This morning I cycled 6 miles along the Oxford canal to the Ley Community, a therapeutic rehabilitation centre that frees people from drug and alcohol addiction. Until a few weeks ago I’d never heard of it, but it has an astonishing success rate and is apparently seen worldwide as a centre of excellence.

J, an open, assured, 24-year-old was in charge of me for the day and introduced me to jargon and practices that had me reeling in bewilderment for the first three hours. Gradually I started to make sense of how the self-help model works. The residents learn from their peers how to care for themselves and each other, and as they move through the strictly demarcated programme they become more and more able to change their own patterns and help others change theirs. I saw barely any staff but they are there, almost all of them ex-residents. They run group sessions to which outsiders are not invited.

Chatting over lunch I heard some devastating stories of what had happened to people before they tried to obliterate those experiences and memories by self-medicating with drugs or alcohol. Some stories silenced me. Others I could engage with and everything I said was listened to with interest and grace.

Around 3pm the residents in charge of tasks for the day decided everyone could go outside and play rounders. Without anyone making an issue of it, I was gently absorbed into the community and allocated to a team. When it was my turn to bat, the bowler asked for someone to run for me. The quiet assumption that I might need extra help was made with no implied criticism and when I said I was happy to run the game just continued.

Everyone who sees the programme through, which is almost all who start, leaves clean and dry and with a job.

I have been educated today. The Earth's axis is just slightly different now.