“MY BODY” by Eduardo Jose E.

Calasanz

Any philosophy of man is a systematic and holistic attempt to answer the question of “who
am I?” In our day-to-day life, we may be so engrossed in our activities that we do not bother
anymore to question what seems clear and obvious to us. The question of “Who am I?” is
such a case. It is surprising to ask this ourselves. At first glance, isn’t this question so
simple? What could be clearer and obvious to us than the reality of our “I”? But this is only
at first glance, from a superficial and uncritical natural attitude. Certain events in our life
(like sickness, failures, death) can awaken us and brings us to the limits of our ordinary
experience. And then, the once-so-simple question deepens, begins to complicate, and
beckons on us: Who am I?
An important aspect in answering this question is the experience of my body. If I were
asked about myself, my answers inescapably have reference to my body. What are you?
Man, because I have form, activities, and a body of a man. Who are you? I am Juan Santos,
tall, mestizo-looking long-haired, with small ears and a big belly due to beer-drinking (isa-
pa-nga!). Where am I? Here, where my body is; look at me, look at my body. In these ways, I
seem to say I am my body.
But there are times too that I know I am not just my body. I am a man also because I have
an understanding and a mind of a man. When I say to my parents “I love you,” this one
loving them is not just this tall-mestizo-looking-long-haired-with-small-ears-fat-belly-
etx.” Body of mine but my whole spirit and will. And it can happen that while my body is in
room B-109, listening to a boring lecture on the theories of Lobachevski or the poems of
Chairil Anwar, I am taking a walk at the beach, along with my sweetheart, watching the
sunset.
On one hand, I recognize an intimate relation of myself with my body, and thus truly say: I
am my body. Yet, on the other hand, I also know that I cannot reduce my whole humanity to
my body. I am also spirit and will: my body is only something I have: I have my body. What is
the meaning of this paradox?
Some Answers from the History of Philosophy

Classical Views. Already in early times, the ancient philosophers of Greece tackled the
question of the human body. What is the body of man? Is it truly a part of his becoming a
man? Or is it just a contingent “addition” to his self? Is it a bestial imprisonment of the
human spirit or its perfection?
According to Plato (ca. 430-350 B.C.), man is his soul. This is the essence of his humanity
and the source of all his activities. In the Phaedrus, Plato uses the following metaphor. The
soul is a charioteer of two winged-horses. One is sensible and flies high to the heavens to
reach the light of truth and goodness. The other comes from a bad breed and because of
neglect and sinfulness, had lost his wings and fallen to earth to assume human form. No
wonder heavenly and earthly tendencies are in conflict in the spirit of man. The taking of a
human body is an unfortunate accident and a cruel imprisonment of the free and pure
soul. Consequently, Plato states in the Phaedo, that the true philosopher strives to evade
his body because

Surely the soul can best reflect when it is free of all distractions such as
hearing or sight or pain or pleasure of any kind – that is, when it ignores the
body and becomes as far as possible independent, avoiding all physical
contacts and associations as much as it can, in its search for reality.
In death the true man is freed from his imprisonment to see perfectly the pure light of
absolute truth.
In the view of Aristotle (304-322 B.C.), man is the whole of his body and soul. There is no
sense in asking if body and soul are one. They are one like the oneness of the ugly and his
figure. The relation of the body to the soul is the relation of matter to form. There is no
matter that is not informed by form, and no form that is not the form of the matter.
Likewise, the body and soul of man are only two aspects of the whole man. In De Anima, we
read the following observation:
A further problem presented by the affections of the soul is this: are they all
affections of the complex body and soul, or is there any one among them
peculiar to the soul by itself? To determine this is indispensable but
difficult. If we consider the majority of them, there seems to be no case in
which the soul can act or be acted upon without involving the body; e.g.
Anger, courage, appetite, and sensation generally. Thinking seems the most
probable exception; but if this proves to be a form of imagination or to be
impossible without imagining, then it too requires a body as a condition of
its existence.
The Christian philosophers of the Middle Ages also dealt on the question of the body. In
the City of God, St. Augustine (354-430) mentions that man can be divided into body and
soul, and no doubt the soul is more real and important. But is it only the soul that is man,
and its relation to the body similar to the relation of the charioteer to his horse? This is not
possible, because the charioteer is not a charioteer without the horse; similarly the soul is
not a soul if it is not the soul of a body. Is it possible that only the body is man, and its
relation to the soul similar to the relation of the jar with the water? Neither is this possible,
because the end of the jar is to be filled with water and the end likewise if the body is to
filled with the soul. Man is the unity of body and soul, and he can only exist as this unity.
The great St. Thomas Aquinas (1226-1274) in the Summa Theologiae also said that the soul
is not man: “For just as it belongs to the nature of this particular man to be composed of
this soul, of this flesh, and of these bones, so it belongs to the future of man to be
composed of this soul, flesh and bones.” And in another place , he further states that
although the body is not part of the essence of the body, nevertheless the very essence of
the soul inherently needs to be one with the body.
It is Rene Descartes (1596-1650) who sets a kind of questioning regarding the human body
in the present history of philosophy. A prominent French philosopher and mathematician,
he is considered as the father of modern philosophy and analytic geometry. In
his Meditations on First Philosophy, Descartes explains the profound and real difference
between the body and soul of man. In the first meditation, he states the methodic doubt:
we should doubt all that we know because, first, they come from our senses which can be
mistaken or can deceive us, and second, these can be just the result of a dream. Even the
certain and universal truths of religion and mathematics I can think of as only imaginary,
the work of a bad spirit.
In the second meditation, Descartes shows that even if I use the methodic doubt , there is
one truth that I can not deny or doubt: I think, therefore, I am (Cogito ergo sum). Even if I fully
deny or doubt this, I only prove by my denial and doubting that I am thinking and existing.
Descartes continues to ask, But what is this I which I have proven to exist? And his answer:
“A thinking being (res cogitans). What is a thinking being? It is a being which doubts, which
understands, which affirms, which denies, which wills, which rejects, which imagines also
and which perceives.
In the last meditation, Descartes adds that even if we can prove the reality of the world and
material things, the real essence of man is still different his body. He stresses,
And although perhaps, or rather certainly, as I will soon show, I have a body
with which I am very closely united, nevertheless, since on the one hand I
have a clear and distinct idea of myself in so far as I am only a thinking and
not an extended being, and since on the other hand I have a distinct idea of
body in so far as it is only an extended being which does not think, it is
certain that this “I” (-that is to say, my soul, by virtue of which I am what I
am-) is entirely (and truly) distinct from my body and that it can (be or) exist
without it.
At first glance, for Descartes, man’s body is just a material thing, extended, and as such
does not seem to differ from a complex machine like a computerized robot. Yet Descartes
himself also admits that the answer is not as simple as that. He mentions again in the
Meditations, that we cannot say, for instance, that the relationship of the body and soul is
like that of the captain and the ship, another metaphor of Plato. If the ship meets a
collision, it is only the ship that is damaged or “hurt” but not the captain who simply
observes the damage. But when my body is hurt, I do not just observe the incident; I am
involved. When I a slapped, for instance, by a storekeeper in the market with whom I have
quarreled, I do not say only my cheeks hurt, but I am hurt.
If we read Descartes himself, we can see that his inquiry is rather complicated, and he does
not really say that man is a “ghost inside a machine.” In several writings, he admits that
the body and soul of a man is a real unity. However, this unity itself of the body and soul
cannot be known and discussed by philosophy due to its inherent ambiguity. In Descartes’
view, the aim of philosophy is to reach clear and distinct ideas regarding reality.
Mathematical truth is for him the model of philosophical truth. But the truth regarding the
unity of man’s body and soul cannot fit into this frame of thinking. Thus, even if Descartes
recognizes the unity of man’s body and soul as truth based on experience, he emphasizes
that this is not a philosophical truth.
Gabriel Marcel. In present times, a number of philosophers, notably the
phenomenologists, have criticized the philosophy of Descartes. One of them is Gabriel
Marcel (1889-1973). Like Descartes, Marcel is a Frenchman, but unlike Descartes, he is a
playwright and musician. His propensity is not clear and skeletal order of mathematics
but life itself and the clear-vague world of drama and music.
In Marcel’s philosophy, man’s embodiment is not simply a datum alongside other data but
the primary datum that is the starting point and basis of any philosophical reflection.
Descartes’ failure, according to Marcel, lies in the imprisonment of the methodic doubt
which aspires mathematics-like truths. This way of thinking is on the level of primary
reflection. In this kind of reflection, I place myself outside of the thing that I am inquiring
on. An ob-jectum (“thrown in front”). It has nothing to do with myself nor do I have anything
to do with it. I take each parts (analysis0 study their ordering (systematize) and arrive at
some clear and fixed ideas regarding the thing itself (conceptualize). But in this manner,
the body studied in primary reflection is no longer my body but a body. “A body” is an
objective idea apart from me; I have nothing to do with it nor does it have anything to do
with my life. This is the body talked about in anatomy, physiology and other sciences.
Because this is an objective and universal idea, this can be the body of anybody else, and
consequently of nobody.
There is a particular value in primary reflection on the body (Medicine, for example would
not progress without the sciences that study the human body), but this is not the whole
truth. In order to come closer to an understanding of the totality of all that exists (and isn’t
this the primary aim of philosophy?), we have to go back and root our reflection on the
concrete experience of my body. We have to enter into the level of secondary reflection. In
this kind of reflection, I recognize that I am part of the thing I am investigating, and
therefore, my discussion is sub-jective (“thrown beneath”). I have something to do with it
and it has something to do with me. Because I participate in the thing, I cannot tear it apart
into clear and fixed ideas; I have to describe and bring it unique wholeness in my concrete
experience. In using secondary reflection, we discover that what exists is not “a body” but
“my body” – a body full of life, eating sleeping, happy, afflicted, etc., my body that is
uniquely mine alone.
Marcel’s philosophy of the body is an inquiry on the meaning of the experience of my body.
If we use secondary reflection and recognize the experience of my body as the starting
point and foundation of our inquiry, we can see that it does not make sense to separate
the body and to ask, “What is the relation of the I to the body?” The reason is because the
body referred to here is no longer “my body” but the abstract “a body”.
But what is meant by my in “my body”? Is it the possession (avoir) that I refer to when I talk
of my “ballpen” or “my dog”? Is the logic “I have a body” the same as “I have a dog”?
Marcel shows that in order for me to possess a dog, we must have an inter-relationship
with each other. I must have a claim, for instance, on the dog: I decide when it will stay and
I take care of it or have it taken care of. Likewise, the dog recognize my claim over it: it
follows me, it loves or fears me, etc. in short, I must have responsibility and control over
what I possess.
At first glance, it seems that this is also the relationship I have with my body. First, like
having my dog, my body is mine and mine alone. Even in societies where slavery exists and
the masters own the body of their slaves, the slaves experience that this is unjust and
violates their rights as human beings. If they do not realize this, then we can say that their
humanity is destroyed. Secondly, I have a responsibility over my body and I take care of it;
I nourish it and let it sleep, bathe it, give it pleasure, etc. The limit of these examples is the
ascetic who evades whatever pleasures of the body; it is difficult to say if he is still included
in the experience of “my body”. Thirdly, I have control over my body. It can do whatever I
want it to do if it can – sit, walk, go out of the room, drink cola, talk, etc. – if I so desire.

There is validity in liking “ I have my body” to “I have my dog,” but there is also limitation.
Even if I am intimate with my dog, I cannot deny that our lives are still separate. It can be
in the house while I am in the moviehouse; it was born while I was in my teens, it may die
earlier than I. This is not the case with my body: our location and history are inseparable.
Wherever I am, there also is my body, and wherever my body is, there I am too.
Upon reconsideration of second reflection, it does not make sense too to consider the
relation with my body as only an instrument. If I say I own my body, I treat it like an
instrument that I possess and use in order to possess and use other things in the world.
Only by means of my body, for instance, can I possess and use this ballpen, this table, this
car, this building and others. Is my body then an instrument?
For Marcel, the body that I can say I have is a body-object, “a body” that I or anybody can
use. This is the body studied by primary reflection of the sciences. But if I treat my body as
only a possession, its being mine loses its meaning. The experience of my body is the
experience of I-body (body-subject). Here secondary reflection recuperates and states that
there is no gap between me and my body. In short, I am my body.
If I say I am my body, this does not mean that I am the body that is the object for others,
the body seen, touched, felt by others. Like the dualism of Descartes, this materialistic view
is imprisoned in the Procrustean bed of primary reflection and reduces the experience of
my body to the idea of “a body.” “I am my body” has only a negative meaning. It simply
states that I cannot separate my self from my body. My being-in-the-world is not the bodily
life alone nor the spiritual life alone but the life of an embodied spirit (‘etre incarnee’).
The Life of Embodied Spirit
We begin our reflection of the experience of my body by recognizing its paradoxical
character. On one hand, I cannot detach my body from myself; they are not two things that
happen by chance to be together. Rather, myself is absolutely embodied. Likewise, on the
other hand, I cannot reduce my self to my body: I also experience my self as an I-spirit and
will that can never be imprisoned in my flesh and bones. That is why we can say there are
two faces shown in the experience of my body: “I have my body” and “I am my body”.
It is very tempting for any erudite person, philosopher or scientist, to forget this paradox
and fix his attention to only one side of the experience. This precisely is the danger of any
primary reflection: our inquiry becomes clear and distinct but we get farther away from
real experience. The paradox is the experience itself, and this should be the one described
by philosophy by means of secondary reflection.
The body as intermediary. I experience myself as being-in-the-world through my body. My
body acts as the intermediary between the self or subject and the world .

When we use the term intermediary, we refer to one of two conflicting meaning. If I say, “Y
is the intermediary of X and Z,” I may mean that because X, Y and Z encounter or become
closer to each other or come to an agreement. Let us take this example from the story of
Macario Pineda titled, “Kung Baga sa Pamumulaklak.” A young farmer named Desto wants
to win the hand of the illustrious young lady named Tesang. However, he cannot just
present himself directly to the lady of his affection to tell her of her feelings. He first
approaches his uncle Mang Tibo who is the kumpare of tesang’s parents so he can act as
intermediary between him and Tesang’s parents. Only then do Tesang’s parents allow
Desto to court her. In this situation, the intermediary serves as the “bridge” for the union
of the young man and the lady.
On the other hand, I can also mean the opposite. I can say that because X, Y and Z are
separated. Still with the example of courting, the parents of the girl may stand between our
affection and prevent our being sweethearts. In the old films of Virgo Productions, often
Lolita Rodriguez plays the role of the “other woman” who stands between the beautiful
relationship of the couple Eddie Rodriguez and Marlene Dauden. Here, the intermediary is
not a bridge but an obstacle.

Now, when I say my body is the intermediary between my self and the world, I refer to the
two meanings of intermediary. On one hand, because of my body, an encounter or
agreement occurs between my self and the world. In reality, the encounter of the experience
of my self and the experience of the world can only take place in the experience of my body.
Because of my body, I experience the world as my world and we are familiar to each other.
Because of my body, the chair I am sitting on is hard, the sunset is as red as a rose, the
effect of the lambanog on my empty stomach is strong, the smell of the Pacwood factory
in San Pedro, Laguna is like hell. Because of my body, I have an experience of “near” and
“far”, “up” and “below” and many other relations in space. The world of man is different
from the “world” of the fly because their bodies have different frameworks. My body is by
nature intentional (directed to the world), and it creates and discovers meaning that I am
conscious of in my existence. Thus because of my body, the whole universe has and reveals
for-me-and-for-man. Through my body, my subjectivity is openness to the world and the
world is opened to me; the world fills me, and I fill the world.

On the other hand, also because of my body, I experience the world as separate from me. I
am “not world”, and the world is “not-I”. In the giving-of-meaning-to-the-world of my body,
I also experience the self as “outside” of the world, I am one who sees , and who gives-mane
to this or that. My body shows that I am not simply a thing among other things in nature.
The oneness and wholeness of my body is different from the oneness and wholeness of the
world. If I did not have this kind of distance from the world, I would become only a thing
without interiority; and clearly this view is not true to our experience of life. My body
participates in the world but cannot be reduced to it.
The body in intersubjectivity. My body is not only an intermediary between me and the
world but also between me and others. I show myself to the other and the other shows
himself to me through my body.
Because of my body, we interrelate with each other in many different ways – in our vision,
actions, attitude, in our rituals, signs and speech. We face each other in anger, tenderness,
sadness, etc., because we have a body to present. If the other shows wrinkles on his
forehead, he is indicating dissatisfaction, confusion or disapproval of what I am saying.
The wry and red appearance of my face is anger, my fixed-to-the-ground look and my sigh
are loneliness. The child does not have to disobey his parent, a look from the parent is
enogh to prevent him. Every part of my body says something of myself and my world. As
what a poet says of an alluring young woman:
There’s language in her eye, her cheek, her lip,
Nay, her foot speaks; her wanton spirits look out
At every joint and motive of her body.
The language of my body has its own grammar and rhetoric in expressing my interiority. If
I love Maria, I show this through my kisses, embrace, holding tenderly her hand, etc., and
also through exchanges of rings, daily telephone conversations, weekly visits. I respect my
parents in kissing their hands; I accept new acquaintances in shaking his hand.
Embodiment is not just an additional or external appearance; it is the gesture and
appearance of what I truly feel inside. I cannot say I love my brothers and sisters if I do not
show this love to them. I cannot say I respect my parents if my speech to them is not
respectful. My faith is meaningless if I do not realize it in my daily actions and life. In social
life too, the great aspirations of the citizenry need to be embodied in political, economic,
cultural (etc.) framework for these to have an enduring realization. As the apostle James
says, “Whoever listens to the word but does not put it into practice is like a man who looks
in a mirror and sees himself as he is. He takes a good look at himself and then goes away
and at once forgets what he looks like.” (James 1, 22-23). The spirit and the world is fulfilled
in the actions and deeds of the body.
However, as we have seen, there are two facts to the body as intermediary. I cannot separate
my intersubjectivity from its embodiment, but I cannot also reduce it to its embodiment.
The spirit needs to be expressed and realize in the body but my body cannot fully state all
of my subjectivity. I may truly love my family even if my body is far away from them. The
fullness of my love for the beloved cannot be said in exchange of rings or in daily telephone
conversations. My subjectivity transcends in expanse and depth its embodiment. Indeed
my body shows myself, but it can also be a mask that hides what I truly think or feel. I can
smile int eh company of my friends while suffer inside of frustrations (as they say,
“laughing in the outside but crying in the inside”). The paradox of “I have my body” and “I
am my body” also applies to my inter-relationship with others
The value of the body. As the appearance and expression of my subjectivity, my body has
a unique value and dignity. It directs me not only to the world and to others but also to God.
St. Paul says in the first letter to the Corinthians: “You know that your bodies are parts of
the body of Christ. Don’t you know that your body is the temple of the Holy Spirit, who lives
in you and who was given to you by God? You do not belong to yourselves but to God, he
bought you for a price. So use your bodies for God’s glory.” (1 Corinthians 6, 15-18).