The Reserection

A Grower Not A Shower

The Etymology of Awakening

From Root to Resonance

Let us begin at the beginning, with the very bones of these words that dance together in such suggestive harmony. The prefix "res-" comes to us from Latin, carrying the meaning of "again" or "back" or "anew." It speaks of return, of cycles, of things coming back to themselves transformed. We find it in words like "restore," "renew," "resist," each time suggesting a movement that answers what came before.

"Erection" traces its lineage to the Latin "erectus," meaning "upright" or "elevated." Its root "regere" speaks of directing, ruling, keeping straight. In its earliest usage, it had nothing to do with sexuality—it meant simply to raise up, to build, to establish. Churches were "erected" before anatomical structures ever were. This original meaning carries a dignity that our modern ears, tuned to double entendre, sometimes miss.

"Resurrection" shares this upward motion but adds profound spiritual weight. From the Latin "resurge," it literally means "to rise again." But not just any rising—this is the rising from death, the ultimate return from the ultimate departure. In Christian theology, it represents the supreme victory over mortality. In broader spiritual traditions, it symbolizes transformation, renewal, and the triumph of spirit over matter.

When these etymological streams converge, they create something richer than their parts. "Res-erection" becomes a playful but profound fusion, suggesting not just physical arousal but the eternal return of vital force. It hints at how our most earthy experiences might connect to our most elevated spiritual aspirations.

Consider how these meanings layer and resonate. The physical act of erection is, in its way, a tiny resurrection—a rising up of vital force, a return of creative potential. Each instance recapitulates the first, each moment of arousal contains echoes of all previous arousals, reaching back to the very awakening of life itself.

This etymological foundation lets us see deeper patterns. In the cycle of desire—arousal, fulfillment, rest, renewal—we find a mirror of larger cosmic rhythms. The Sanskrit tradition recognized this, seeing in human sexuality a reflection of divine creative force. The Tantric practices built entire spiritual technologies around this insight: that our embodied experiences of rising energy could be pathways to transcendent understanding.

The overlap between physical and spiritual resurrection appears in surprising places. The Egyptian god Osiris, lord of death and resurrection, was often depicted with an erect phallus—a symbol of regenerative power even in death. Ancient mystery religions frequently used sexual symbolism to represent spiritual rebirth. These traditions recognized that procreative power and spiritual renewal were not separate forces but different expressions of the same vital current.

Modern depth psychology gives us another lens, suggesting that all upward movement—physical, emotional, spiritual—shares common archetypal roots. When we rise from sleep, when we rise to challenges, when we rise in passion, when we rise from despair, we are enacting variations on a fundamental pattern of resurrection.

This weaving together of meanings reveals something profound about human experience. We are creatures who exist simultaneously in multiple dimensions—the physical, the emotional, the spiritual. Our language, in its evolution and play, reveals these connections. When we speak of being "aroused" by art or music, when we talk about ideas that "raise us up," when we describe inspiration as an "uprising" of spirit, we are drawing on this deep association between physical rising and spiritual elevation.

The harmony between these terms—erection, resurrection, res-erection—suggests that perhaps our ancestors understood something we sometimes forget: that the sacred and the sensual are not opposed but intertwined, that our physical experiences can be doorways to spiritual insight, that the body's wisdom might be as profound as the soul's.

In this light, every awakening of desire becomes a kind of sacred drama, re-enacting both the personal mystery of renewal and the cosmic mystery of creation. Each cycle of arousal and rest teaches us something about the greater cycles of death and rebirth that govern all existence. We learn, through the body's own rhythms, that all endings contain beginnings, that all descents prepare ascents, that life moves not in straight lines but in eternal returns.