THE BIRDHOUSE INCIDENT
by Carl Mazza

Be not afeard,- the isle is full of noises,
Sounds and sweet airs, that give delight and hurt not.
Sometimes a thousand twangling instruments
Will hum about mine ears, and sometime voices
That, if I then had waked after long sleep,
Will make me sleep again: and then, in dreaming,
The clouds methought would open and show riches
Ready to drop upon me that, when I waked,
I cried to dream again
Caliban, Shakespeare, The Tempest, Act III Sc. 2

A thing of beauty is a joy forever
-John Keats, Endymion

We know there is great power in imagination. Yet, when we are becoming realists, we sometimes belittle this very mainstay of life. We say, "It was just your imagination," when we want to assert that something has no tangible truth or importance. Yet, do we experience any reality at all apart from our imagination? Is not our perception of the world an important fact in and of itself May we not as easily imagine the world around us to be hostile and threatening as we might also dream that it is filled with beauty and opportunity? We patiently teach our children to rely on their confident inner creativity, by which they can influence the world around them for good.

But when we are homeless, we are often not permitted the luxury of imagining, certainly not to dream. We are frequently made to feel that we have become homeless because we haven't faced reality hard enough, and that now is the time to come to grips with the real issues: obtaining a job, finding a house, breaking bad habits- getting a grip on ourselves.

Yet, how much of this is possible to achieve or obtain without the driving, penetrating zeal of imagination? A house, for instance, can be just a barren shell until our mind of possibility turns it into a home, and our heart of love perceives the potential of good and beautiful things within its walls. If there is no dream, no interior vision, what is the motive for good living?

For years Leona has been leading a weekly art group at Meeting Ground. Participation is excellent. People look forward to it, and a lot of the resulting art work is displayed on the walls of the living areas of Wayfarers' House and Clairvaux Farm. Visitors are often taken by the original creations and ask about the painters. Some are even surprised to learn that the work is a reflection of the heart and soul of homeless persons - many in the throes of intense personal struggle. The art is colorful, elegant, and inspiring.

Some might ask: "what is the place of an art group in a community dedicated to helping homeless persons who are trying to draw together the fragments of their disrupted lives?" Leona's response has always been clear and simple: Art is a function of human life, a very important aspect of it. It is not an extravagance, an unnecessary luxury reserved for those who Property have more time and place for leisure. Rather, life itself - the living of it -s an art, and the soul's release in that direction is an imperative, an absolute necessity for all people to live and thrive.

A few months ago some of the at children at Clairvaux Farm begged Jim to make a birdhouse. Jim is a single man struggling to put together a very basic framework for his life. He set to work on the project in the midst of his many other demanding tasks. He had gotten a job, but transportation to work was a problem. He shortly wound up in jail, arrested for driving an unregistered vehicle. In the blink of an eye he lost career, car, and his delicately crafted plan to get back on his feet. When he came back from jail, we thought he might be in the moodto give up.

But this did not happen. Jim was determined to begin again, despite the odds. "From where does this come," I thought, "this stubborn desire to keep trying?" It is a delightful and amazing function of the human soul which believes in and yearns for sunrise, even in the middle of a very long night. Even so, you might imagine my feeling when, on my way to chapel one Sunday, I happened to glance at a big wild cherry tree and saw the most eye-catching two-story birdhouse.

The details of it were striking. It wasn't just thrown together. It was obviously made from various pieces of wood, drawn from here and there, some would call it scrap. But it was neatly built and with an eye for detail and, yes, with an artful flair. It was mounted solidly in the tree by someone who cared that its inhabitants would be secure and on solid footing. It was even slightly tilted at an angle to allow rainwater to drain away. Everyone who sees it talks about it.

Why all this interest in an article so commonplace? Birdhouses are everywhere, after all, and some, crafted by professionals, are even far more attractive and well built. But this is no ordinary birdhouse. It is an expression of something, a work of loving hands. It is an act of creation, for which purpose human beings were put on earth in the first place. In the fashion of the One who made us, we continue the good work of love which formed, and continues to re-create planet earth.

And the birdhouse was not exclusively Jim's work. It also belonged to the children for its soul and inspiration. What was their contribution? Exactly the same as Jim's. Behind their eagerness to build a house for passing birds, even as they all valiantly struggle with their families to find similar homes for themselves, they expressed a universal theme of the human interior. That is, all life is one in its yearnings to belong.

All feeling beings have a heartbeat, and this very physical action is not merely mechanical. It is also the body's art and rhythm. Life is a complicated and uneven mixture of what "is" and what the heart wishes it to be. Surely, even the most seasoned realists long at some point to be lost in love, or in an exquisite, unbelievable dream.

There is an expression which is common in helping circles. It has many variations, but goes something like: if you give a person a fish, you satisfy their hunger for a meal, but if you teach a person to fish you give them the gift of self-reliance forever. It is a good saying. But fishing, in its essence is not simply food gathering, it is an art.

I spoke with someone who told me he took off work one afternoon because he had the itch to go fishing. He described the preparations in detail-- his precise attention to time and place, sufferance in waiting many long hours for a nibble, and his eloquent description of the fish which he finally caught. As he spoke he touched on all the beautiful and tangible nuances which give value and measure to life itself: planning, anticipation, expectation, thoughtfulness, patience, and dreaming. Fishing indeed is a soulful art, and if we are inclined to teach a person to fish, we must allow the person's right to find their art of living.

So, at Meeting Ground it is always basic to remember that to end homelessness in a person's life is as much about restoring hope as it is getting an apartment. It is as important to discover and build upon a life's work as it is to scramble for a daily meal. And it is also about giving back, seeing oneself as a giver to others, and finding the means and path to becoming a co-creator.

Eventually, both Jim and the children who came together to make a birdhouse will likely move on and away to another place and time. There is much potential among them, and they could all achieve great distinction in living. If they do, and especially if they find a measure of happiness and fulfillment in it all, they may remember the birdhouse incident.

They may even ponder the fact that the same steadfast skill they together used to build a birdhouse, was, in fact, the very artistry which eventually brought them their uncommon and abiding success in life.