Ubuntu: I Am Because We Are
There is a South African philosophy called Ubuntu—”I am because we are.” It speaks to the deep truth that our identity, our survival, our strength, even our healing, is rooted not in isolation but in connection. Nowhere has this truth been more evident than around the tables of recovery, in the circles where stories are told, coffee is poured, and broken people find each other—and themselves—again. When I walked into those rooms more than forty years ago, I was a man drowning in silence and shame. But the fellowship pulled up a chair for me. They didn’t fix me. They didn’t preach to me. They sat with me. They told the truth, raw and unfiltered. They shared their pain like bread, passed around so no one starved in the soul. In those meetings, Ubuntu was not just a word—it was a living, breathing presence. It was the sponsor who took my midnight call. It was the old-timer who said, “Keep coming back,” and meant it. It was the newcomer who reminded me how far I’d come. The fellowship taught me that recovery is not a solo act—it’s a symphony. Each voice, each hand held out in the dark, each relapse overcome and lesson shared, is part of the music that keeps us moving forward. I am because they were there. I am because they still are. I am because we are. That love the gritty, honest, unconditional love of the rooms—is what’s kept me alive. Not just breathing, but living. Not just sober, but thriving. The steps gave me a path, but the fellowship gave me a family. A tribe. A place where my wounds weren’t hidden—they were honored. Where my story, as painful as it was, had value because it lit the way for someone else. So when I say Ubuntu, I’m not quoting some distant proverb. I’m telling you the truth of my life: I am, today, this man in recovery—healed, humbled, grateful—because we are. Because you showed up. Because we all did.
