The C2S blog draws on the arts, the social and biological sciences to explore the many meanings of health and "dis-ease." Designed to be a locus where patients, their families and professionals can meet on a level playing field, it is the natural off-shoot of the Cell 2 Soul Online Journal. We encourage the submission of ideas, essays, poems, stories, humor, and timely reviews relating to the humanities and health care.
I'm having a conversation with someone when my brain goes AWOL and a name or word: Johnny Mathis, labyrinth, waxy begonia, bank password, becomes deeply submerged and can't be retrieved until three to five hours later when what was missing pops up through the seaweed into another time and space.
Begonia semperflorens (wax begonia)
Jane Seskin is a clinical social worker and the author of Witness To Resilience: Stories of Intimate Violence.
Nicknamed the Chosen One by his peers, Jay Adams in the 1970s pioneered an outlaw image and new approaches to shateboarding that was at the time associated with roller skating. Taking his skateboard down steep hills and up the walls of an empty swimming pool — and, finally, over the walls’ edges — Adams helped usher in the aerial, or vert, style of skateboarding.
Adams died on a surfing trip to Mexico on August 15. 2014 at the age of 53.
The NY Times had two interesting articles about him in the August 18 issue.
The poet, Frank L. Meyskens, Jr., M.D., is a distinguished oncologist. His new book "Believing in Today" concerns loss, grief, and imagining one’s own death. Some of the poems deal with the poet’s own mortality and, such as the one featured below, were inspired by his father’s death. Others are reflections on aging and what looms ahead. The Final Song
Once again we rushed to be with you a long scary ride in the pouring rain, arriving at midnight ten hours later exhilarated and exhausted.
You had been failing badly for several days now gasping, eyes shut , becoming aware of our presence when my brother began to sing “You are my sunshine.”
Your eyes opened and in a strong voice you began to sing, song after song, and for an hour we sang with you, you correcting us when we didn’t get it right.
And then you returned to wherever you had been and for the next three days you said your goodbyes, one by one, as your friends and grandchildren called.
It has been nearly six weeks now since you sang yourself into the cosmos, never will I forget that divine moment, my chest then heaving, my heart now aching, my eyes glistening at the finality of that moment.
Jane Seskin is a clinical social worker and writer whose poetry has appeared in journals, newspapers, and magazines.. Her book, Witness to Resilience, consists of moving, poignant, vivid poems about violence towards women. They touch our hearts and sear our souls. The first poem in this book is “Home.”
I never thought of the kitchen as a battlefield with hot foods, dishes, pots, and silverware used as weapons.
I never imagined a broken mirror could scar flesh, a bedroom pillow could smother a breath, a curtain rod could gouge out an eye.
I never realized the handy tool chest could be so lethal;
roach spray could blind, hammers could break fingers and screwdrivers could puncture arms, legs, breasts.
I never thought, imagined, or realized,
but now I do, since I started listening to women
talk about the violence.
William Carlos Williams wrote:
It is difficult
to get the news from poems
yet men die miserably every day
of what is found there.
In Jane Seskin’s poems, the voices of the abused women she sat with, are a cry, a seminar, from the heart.