Resurrection (anglicized from Latin resurrectio)

is the concept of a living being's literally coming back to life after death.

It is largely a concept of religion,

where it is used in two distinct respects

—a belief in the resurrection of individual souls

 that is current and ongoing (Christian idealism, realized eschatology),

or else a belief in a singular "Resurrection of the Dead"

event at the end of the world

......................

Summer is here,and it is coming in hardcore. 100 degrees today and tomorrow.

Solstice time.

Around this time every year, with my birthday coming up on June 24 th, Midsummer night’s eve, and all the radiant ultraviolet and Vitamin D seeping into my pale white skin, I get what is called, clinically, “manic”. I am bipolar.

(Bipolar disorder or bipolar affective disorder,

historically known as manic-depressive disorder,

is a psychiatric diagnosist

hat describes a category of mood disorders

 defined by the presence of one or more episodes of abnormally elevated energy levels, cognition, and mood 

with or without

one or more depressive episodes.  .

Genetic factors contribute substantially to the likelihood of developing bipolar disorder, and environmental factors are also implicated. Bipolar disorder is often treated with mood stabilizing medications  .)

I have gone rather “off” this time of year , in the past. It is due to all those darn im (or is it un-) balanced chemicals surging through my neural network. I am hardly to blame.

Being blameless and having a ticket to ride, as they say, with no moral consequences because of my condition, I make the most of it of course…

…………………………………..

This year will be no exception, except for the fact I will be turning 45, which is half fifty, half a half of century. I have learned composure. Sun, bring it on! I am ready…

Sisters ask me, “what do you want for your birthday?”

I say, “green stuff.” Money. They probably will not give a known bipolar little brother a lot of spending money, for fear of how he will waste it. Fine, fine.

If I had my way? I would politely ask, “bring Mother back to life for me, gals. To share my birthday.”

(She is coming at me in my dreams every night anyway. And nobody ever really explained to my satisfaction the difference in  so called ‘reality’ between dream and waking state. Different brainwaves, sure, but…well, I shall be composed and say, “enough said about that nonsense. Just my wild imagination.”)

(However, I am on record as saying that dreamwork is ontologically ‘realer’ than waking life, due to our absolute creative control of the universe when we dream. It is where the archetypes take personal form, and fuck with you, to teach you something, is my opinion)

( van MORRISON: ''ENLIGHTENMENT"

 Enlightenment says the world is nothingNothing but a dream, everything's an illusionAnd nothing is real
Good or bad, babyYou can change it anyway you wantYou can rearrange itEnlightenment, don't know what it is

………………………………………..

Let us say I got my birthday wish, and Eleanor Mae Emmerling came back, just for a bit. For her boy’s birthday.

This might be how it would go:

“James Mark, I do not appreciate this.”

“Why, Mom? Don’t u miss me?” Sweet as apple pie. Mom made a decent apple pie, once upon a time, when I was very good.

“I don’t like this place. When I died, it was a lot simpler. We didn’t have all these awful gadgets.”

“Mom! You died 6 years ago! Sept 21,2006, the , haw, last day of summer.”

“Yes I did. I tried not to bother you kids, either. I went in  my sleep. Yes, yes, the last day of summer. Your sister mentioned that at that godawful funeral you cooked up for me. Much against my wishes! You know I wanted no funeral, especially all that…modern stuff you kids did. Shame on  you!”

“You know I do not like to be shamed, mom. A low blow. We didn’t know your wishes. You didn’t write them down. We looked everywhere  for any legal document, we sure did!” I lied.

“Mmmm. Well. Some people said some nice things. But that minister. I think he was a damn fool. Telling everyone, ‘share your memories of Eleanor’. It is a wonder you kids didn’t tell the real story. You all lied.”

Arg. “Nonsense. What do you mean?” though I knew.

“Oh, you kids hated me. Blamed me for all your problems. Those girls? They said I should have fixed your problems,your imbalance. I failed”

Christ, still a martyr, mom? No way I am letting you get away with it.

“Mom, shut up. Sorry. You drank yourself to death. There is no way around that. But you were our mom, and we loved you. Especially me, the ultimate momma’s boy!” Get her laughing before she starts weeping.

“Oh, well you  were different. The only one. Who knew me. And knew what I had to deal with . That father of yours! And, how dare you put me in the same grave with him?”

“Mom, you were cremated, in that pretty blue urn..”

“yes, I must say, I liked that. Reminded me of the ocean. Oh, and your eyes too. “

“Yeah well dad decided he didn’t wanna be cremated”

“Oh, he was a mess by then. I don’t know why you didn’t do what I told you to. Cremate us, spread our ashes on Cape cod..”

“Hm..forgot,” big lie.

“You did not! Mother knows, james. Mother always knows. You were ..having problems then?”

“Only one I can think of is my best friend kicked off on me. You, mom.” I kissed her. On the cheek . As I did every night before bedtime, 10pm sharp.

"My dad, he wasn't so bad," i reproved her.

"Oh no, not once. Once he was quite the prince......"

"And you, his princess..i seen pictures of you then. A 'dish', you!"

“Oh. Oh. James, you are a charmer aren’t you? So..” With some love maybe Eleanor is ready for 2012? For a little while?

The cellphone rang and mother raised a patrician little eyebrow in disapproval.

“It is L!” her oldest, her daughter, momma of Georgie puppy, currently…uh…let’s say having a second youth…on Cape cod…

“Oh, how is she?”

“L! I got mom on the phone! Wanna talk to her?”

“James..sh..maybe she doesn’t want to talk? Please, would you for once show the manners I tried to give you…?...ah, what does she say?”

.......................................

"What is that lovely music, James?" she said later, much later.

"Van"

"Oh how i like him so . More than that, excuse me, Jew, that Dylan man."She is kidding. I played "MAN IN THE  LONG BLACK COAT" at her botched funeral, after all...her favorite..

"

The sun was setting over avalon
The last time we stood in the west
Suffering long time angels enraptured by blake
Burn out the dross innocence captured again

 When will I ever learn to live in god? 
When will I ever learn? 
He gives me everything I need and more
When will I ever learn? 

 
Down through the history of time
Is and was in the beginning and evermore shall be

 Tear down the old, bring up the new

 Standing on the highest hill with a sense of wonder
You can see everything is made in god
Head back down the roadside and give thanks for it all

When will I ever learn to live in god? 
When will I ever learn? "v.morrison...........