The
Birdhouse Project is the first project-based healing tool of its kind. It
was built around the belief that growth is most evident when people experience,
reflect on that experience, and act in more beneficial ways because of their
examined experience.
After experiencing loss – be it loss of faith, loss of direction, loss of spouse or loss of hope – our lives feel like they’ve “fallen to pieces.” By embracing that phrase and the image suggested in its symbolism, we can also accept that we possess the power to rebuild our lives.
Using the birdhouse as a metaphor, we can take up our lives, piece by piece, examine what was once there, what is there still, and what measures can be taken to fill in the gaps or come to terms with the emptiness. In word, picture, photos or collage, we express ourselves on each of these pieces, moving from the foundation (strong base), to the walls that hold us in (crisis and regret), to the strong, load-bearing walls (affirmation and goals). Once we can see the strengths in our process, we are strong enough to support the roof (shelter), signaling to others that we are ready to provide stability and safety once more; we become proof that there is hope after loss if we pursue small goals and commit ourselves, in mind and body, to the task of rebuilding our lives.
Loss is real, sudden and lasting. But after the tornado has passed, leaving unimaginable devastation in its wake, life doesn’t stop for us to make sense of it. It is right and good to mourn for the places, people or possessions we’ve lost, but life doesn’t give us the luxury of sitting on the porch staring at the debris for weeks. We have to roll up our sleeves, wade in and try to restore some order to what was spared. We may shed many tears both during and after, but healing is an active process, and we have an obligation to find a way to live again.
After experiencing loss – be it loss of faith, loss of direction, loss of spouse or loss of hope – our lives feel like they’ve “fallen to pieces.” By embracing that phrase and the image suggested in its symbolism, we can also accept that we possess the power to rebuild our lives.
Using the birdhouse as a metaphor, we can take up our lives, piece by piece, examine what was once there, what is there still, and what measures can be taken to fill in the gaps or come to terms with the emptiness. In word, picture, photos or collage, we express ourselves on each of these pieces, moving from the foundation (strong base), to the walls that hold us in (crisis and regret), to the strong, load-bearing walls (affirmation and goals). Once we can see the strengths in our process, we are strong enough to support the roof (shelter), signaling to others that we are ready to provide stability and safety once more; we become proof that there is hope after loss if we pursue small goals and commit ourselves, in mind and body, to the task of rebuilding our lives.
Loss is real, sudden and lasting. But after the tornado has passed, leaving unimaginable devastation in its wake, life doesn’t stop for us to make sense of it. It is right and good to mourn for the places, people or possessions we’ve lost, but life doesn’t give us the luxury of sitting on the porch staring at the debris for weeks. We have to roll up our sleeves, wade in and try to restore some order to what was spared. We may shed many tears both during and after, but healing is an active process, and we have an obligation to find a way to live again.
