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And they won't fail to notice
A change in mind
A ripple that sends light to the hopeless
A gleaming sign
An edifice broken and built again
A life line, divine
A person brought back from the brink
On the mend
-Rebecca Manning,
New Horizons June 2017
Saturday 25th March 2017 saw me on a mentoring day with Write to Freedom in the company of staff and peers. The location – a remote spot on Dartmoor I had never been to before. Both tor and wood were arrayed in all their glory as an early spring sun rose full and refused to hide all day. A time to leave the mundane world behind and connect with nature and with my fellow human beings. A day for looking out and looking within. Some spectacular images and memories. The sight of particles and rays of light scattering off the lake and streaming through my eyes, through the universe. The felt presence of air, earth, fire and water, in the strong breeze on the tor, the soil scattered with the debris of old leaves in the wood, the sparkling fire of the sun reflecting off the lake, and the roar and spray of the river. A time and place also for personal reflection, to feel the sense of inner peace and connection, to attend to word and image, to listen to story and myth, to bond and share with my companions. We were given an image of connection, a rope- a rope that tied us to each other, to nature as we explored and enjoyed her, and to our individual hopes and aspirations as we journeyed on together, over the moor and onward in our lives. This is an experience that I need to return to and dwell in again. Fortunately I have the comfort that further mentoring days are in the pipeline. So I look forward to expanding days of companionship and personal growth ahead.
Peter
A check-in from founder and creative Director Caspar Walsh about the latest news and movement of the charity.
Written in response to something a dear friend said to me last winter. What she saw in me, that kindness and love inspired me to write this. And in writing I realised it was a universal truth, so I brought to our mentoring sessions.
Caspar
Black Seam
You have a seam of gold running through you
I see it
I think you don’t, not always
Once Never
But maybe now more, day by day, I think you see it
The black coal in the seam.
The fire mineral
Layers of it
Deep in the earth
Thick dense, heavy, ready to burn
And you love mining for that black, always have
Your ferocious reflective, reflexive axe, hacking into the belly of the earth
Over and over, never blunting the point of it
So deep it hits the mineral seam and a white diamond of sparks fly
And flames flicker as they always do
From the black, through the earth airless earth
To rise up
An underground fire
Catching roots and worms and bones alight with farenheight
Setting them ablaze for alchemy
I think you see it
Through the black
And I see something else
A seam of gold running through you, through that black
Through random rising fire
Something else
I think you don’t
Once never, now more
In this room, in each of your medusa eyes
Now more than ever
A seam of gold running through you
Mine it
Caspar Walsh
Sunshine beating down on my skin nourished and calmed me. In silence I left my Tribe – this journey was one that I had to do alone: to think, to reflect, and ask myself what was my truth, what had drawn me to this quest.
I climbed over the stile and headed into the woodland. In a split second I had entered another world – cool air stroked me, damper danker smells of mystery demanded to be drawn into my lungs. I felt safe here; safe in the knowledge that I am just a tiny insignificant spec amongst a beautiful landscape. I was safe from the noise, rushing, pushing and jostling of everyday life that I can still struggle with.
Slowly drawn towards the beat and lure of the boron drum I walked up the winding track. Tingling within as my thoughts and senses were captivated by the beauty around me, I stopped and picked up a piece of stone, the colours spoke of the autumn to come. Into my pocket it went, a memory to keep and treasure.
This weekend for me was about answers: Who was I, what purpose do I have in life and how to move forward keeping my truth pure. The drum beat drew me onwards whispering its song, you’re nearly home, you’re nearly there just keep on going we’ll all be there. Like a heartbeat slow safe and comforting. I reached Caspar and Ben – they invited me to take off my boots and socks. The moss slightly damp between my toes felt good, my toes wriggling and spreading with delight. I was then blindfolded reassured that I would be safe in the hands of another warrior. Trust is part of my struggle in life – when people and life has torn you apart the instinct is to go it alone, leave the pack behind. The experiences over the last couple of days were encouraging me to challenge that belief and curiously it felt good to hold onto a strong arm and be led.
Without sight my other senses were heightened. I could hear water and feel every small differing texture between my toes. My heart was racing, roaring, fast – a different drum beat.
After what seemed like an eternity we stopped. I was calm now. I was beginning to trust my brother, he hadn’t let me down. He had kept me safe and steady. I was learning to trust again. Unsure of what was to happen next, I caught my breath, felt the sun on my face and smiled.
It’s been a few months since our successful weekend with RISE (Recovery and Integrated Service) on Dartmoor. We’ve stayed in regular contact and are now in the process of putting a joint funding bid together to continue the programme on a regular basis. We’ve also been in regular contact with the participants who’ve remained amazingly positive about their time with us on the high moor. It really does feel like it’s been a life changing experience for all those involved. What we’d hoped for and more.
What has always been close to my heart in this work is in finding a way of making the vision of ongoing support for our participants, beyond the powerful transformation of the residentials, to become a tangible reality. It’s a noble, crucial dream but the logistics to make this possible on the ground can be complex and a pull on our already stretched resources. But with RISE, it seems to be happening, slowly but surely, as a mutually beneficial, supportive partnership.
We met on Dartmoor last Thursday for the first of what will be a series of days together, reconnecting, sharing, walking, messing around (with an eye on health and safety!) and discovering ways we can continue to support this fine group of human beings. Within RISE they are collectively known as peer mentors and already have one to one supervision support there. Most attend regular 12 Step Recovery groups and therapy. What we are offering is working with them as a group, addressing the dynamics, the strengths and the challenges. We’ll be meeting once a month through the autumn, winter and into next year. We’ll evaluate the process as we go, to measure its success and viability for funding.
Tribe Warrior remains an important part of their time with us, using its themes as a guide for their own daily journey through life. One participant brought his along with great pride!
We had the usual offering of Dartmoor’s very own climate. Walking to the magical Bench Tor, with its dramatic view down into the East Dart Valley. The traditional Dartmoor Mizzle (mist and drizzle for the uninitiated) rolling down the steep sides of the valley into the river gave it an eerie feeling. We headed from the high windswept open moor, down into the woods, toward the river where heavy rain soon turned to welcome sunshine and clouds. My perfect Dartmoor day. Our mini trek finished by a gentle flowing part of the river where we wrote and talked and paired up to explore what challenges lay ahead and what support was needed. By the end of the day, a reconnection to land and our ‘tribe’ was made. Continuity and a reminder of where batteries can always be recharged.
I felt a sadness seeing them all drive off. Matched with a genuine joy in knowing I will see them all again soon. We’ll be meeting, back on the moor, toward the end of the month. I’ll be asking them to contribute to this blog page. Which I’m sure they will, with their trademark zest, humour and eye for the detail of the moors and more.
Caspar – Creative Director, Write to Freedom
“Imprisonment can be profoundly destructive for families intimate and social relationships. The current rate of inter-generational re-offending is alarming.’’ Crime can often be more shaming for the surrounding family than the criminal themselves, and HMS Parc Prison’s flagship Family Intervention Wing aims to reduce re-offending by developing a positive sense of attachment and responsibility with fathers who have been or are, in prison. We’ve worked alongside this wing to create the project ‘New Leaves’, to work with the whole family as part of a prisoner’s rehabilitation.
We’ve taken six imprisoned fathers on six separate residential courses with their families, with an aim to connect them to the wild landscape and support their reconnection with each other. Through planned activities, the use of myth and story, the families get a chance to step out of the stress of readjustment and spend time re-bonding and having positive shared experiences. We hold a relaxed environment for safe, heartfelt communication. There’s plenty of opportunity to express feelings and emotions usually difficult to articulate in normal life.
“It has been shown that the use of fairy tales has emotional and symbolic importance for children and their emotional growth.” By using mythical stories, the project seeks to aid children to understand and positively channel their emotions in symbolic terms.
During a ‘New Leaves’ program, families co-create a storybook together as they follow an outdoor trail of activities with the threaded themes of shy Wizards and a hunt for a Dragon’s layer. The culmination of the lived mythical story is a large wood-sculptured dragon breathing real fire. It’s a striking symbolic connection to the Welsh Dragon that engages the family with their cultural and geographic heritage, whilst playing within the myth and wilderness of the post-industrial South Wales landscape. After finding the Dragon’s Nest and gold, the family co-writes a short piece with the title “The gold we have found in ourselves”.
An interesting by-product of running the pilot year is a sense of ‘cross fertilisation’ that happens during each course. Living in the presence of facilitators who have different daily habits and lifestyles is a worthwhile cultural exposure. Families eat home-cooked organic meals, socialise and play music around a camp fire, without a TV or Internet all weekend. It’s these subtle, shared new experiences that may increase the family’s sense of unity and strength as they transition into having their fathers and husbands back from prison.
Now, at the end of our pilot year of delivery, we are aiming to set up a reunion day where all the families can meet, celebrate and socialise together, continuing the community bond through their shared experiences within New Leaves. We are also hoping to produce a coffee table style picture book that highlights the political climate of children affected by parental imprisonment, our work with ‘New Leaves’, and some anonymous stories of the families.
Ben Ford – New Leaves coordinator and trainee facilitator
The dark surrounding the fire would be ominous were it not for the warm reflection of the flames on the faces of the men and women in front of us. A mixed bag of travellers from all over the country and from all manner of heartbreak. The Bodrahn drum in my hand has been in its case for a too many months. The skin needs tightening. I bring my hand over the flames to test the heat, then the drum, letting the orange and yellow fire shine through the skin. It’s a good bit of storytelling theatre. The eyes watching widen as I strike out a single beat, then another, and another. The instrument rises in pitch, tuning itself to the heat of the fire. I’m nervous. I also need some tuning up!
This is how our time together starts. With a circle, a fire, an old story, the night, new faces, new friends and silence. The drum is ready. Each time this is different. Following the same theme, similar threads but told to each group as if it were the first. Responding to the season, the weather, the feeling within the group. This fine circle of beings who have each been impacted by addiction are each seeking to deepen their healing and recovery. They’ve come to us through RISE (Recovery Integrated Services – link). Each bring a gift for themselves and for us. What those gifts are will unfold over the next few days.
Each have been on a road, heading to this turning point, on the high hills of Dartmoor, for months, years, decades. Weather-worn by what life has handed them. And choosing to do something good with it. Turn it into something they can work with, something they can transform and be proud of. And part of that journey is to discover a new relationship with nature and their own, unique story. To rediscover themselves inside its wildness. John, one of our lead nature-connection facilitators, stops mid-sentence as the rapid trill of a Nightjar fills the air. He calls to it. It calls back. The Isle is Full of Noises.
We know the power of these weekends but never know quite how that power will unfold. We respond to what meets us. Each of the staff have, in their own lives, been touched, one way or another, by addiction. We know the hard road. And we know the joy and freedom that comes from stepping off it, onto another path.
We share our discoveries as the days unfold; through words, poems, journals. This land has been shaped by ancient weather, as have we. This group are no different in how extraordinary they are. How engaged, connected, loving, wise, funny and willing to step out of their comfort zone time and time again. To take their recoveries and their gifts, to the next level.
Long may it continue!
Caspar Walsh, Lead Facilitator and Creative Director
