V. Epp Ó 2011
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Acknowledgements
The amazing sketches of C. J. Meckling are a bridge to the inner reaches of the soul. Her images call up visions of its endless facets that are the fabric of every human spirit, nourished by the very seat of the universe itself, and to give voice to their uniqueness.
Dedication
To all spirits both past and present, who have touched my consciousness, and in passing have left a tiny spark of themselves within my being. To those who have shown me pain and suffering, anguish and despair. Without knowledge of such things how could I savor hope, courage or self worth? To all those who have led me, through their sharing to the very source of life at the center of the universe that is within each one of us and illuminated the path to my fulfillment. And to you the reader, may you find the fullness of life within your own spirit from the words and images within these pages.
Introduction
Before I begin, I thought it might be interesting to some to know how this all came about. As you know from my other work, poetry is not my forte. In fact, it's nothing I know anything about. So how did all this come into being?
As it happens, this is not about poetry. This is about the human spirit. And that's something I know a bit about. A series of coincidences caused it all to come together. Our family had suffered the loss of a beloved son far too early in his young and promising life. It was devastating and I was at a very low point in my own life, not knowing how to really go on. At the time, I was translating diaries and other documents related to the Mennonites during the Russian revolution and the first years of communism. In these stories I came to know the almost super-human achievements of some of these people against insurmountable odds. The only explanation was the overwhelming power of the human spirit. I was in awe of the tenacity with which these people, both men and women clung to and called forth their spirit to carry them through impossible odds, never bowing to their oppressors - not even once. I must admit to feeling a little small for allowing myself to wallow in my own grief.
Just at that time I received a number of sketches - doodles, really, from the daughter of a friend of ours. They were abstracts of her musings that struck me to be manifestations of different aspects of the human spirit but had no words to express them.
So the words began to flow from my pen, almost by themselves. They were very dark at first, expressing self-doubt, pain, and hopelessness but as they progressed, delving ever more into the different facets of the spirit, became bolder, more confident, more assertive. By the time I had completed the fifth book, I knew I was at the place where the people I had written about were. I was now able to allow the precious memories we had shared with our son to come alive and to take them to me as part of my own spirit. They have never left me, not even for a day. I am enriched beyond measure.
The Book of Celebration
How – how in this tangled web of daily strife, of broken dreams and hopeless hopes – how in this world of chaos can I ever face the morning?
Out of the DarknessThere is a place, a quiet place to meditate upon the secrets locked inside the human soul. Their countless number flash and flicker into consciousness, twinkling for an instant to touch upon the spirit amid the slings and arrows that wound. It is a place so deep within that no one can follow where you go behind the shroud to drink from the wellspring of strength and hope that empower and sustain – that bid you celebrate life in the journey toward the light. Tiny beacons illuminate the darkness and bathe its path in brilliant sunshine. The spirit is refreshed.
