You

Philosophers don't know who you are... That's not necessarily a bad thing; you sometimes want to steer clear of those guys at a party. But consider this: even you don't know who you are. Come on, be honest now. If some guys showed up, and wanted to know where to find you, would you really know where to point them? Sure there is this skinbag full of fluids that does things (largely... hmm, partly) on your command, but let's not confuse mere physical presence for the things that are important about you. I'm not advocating the mind—body dualism of the Greek philosophers. I'm an integrationist myself: there is can be no ultimate separation between body, soul and spirit, any more than chemistry can exist without physics, or relationships without biomechanics.

I was thinking all this as I wandered from the kitchen to our bedroom, placed a slight grasp on a heavy bag and yet managed to carry it without incident back, knowing should it slip I could in any case catch it before it hit the ground. How do I know these things. How do I control my fingers with such ease and precision?

Working with people with disabilities gives me regular reminders of the need to value the things I often take for granted. And every so often, the wonder of normal human abilities will break though my haze of daily distraction. It has been said that it is humanity's capacity for boredom that enables us to develop—we rapidly habituate to the novel and incorporate it into regular life, ready for the next change. Yet our modern combination of global boredom and overwork is a trap that can take the wonder out of the smallest situations. Stop and be amazed by something today. I'm going to try to.

As for who we really are, I'm reminded of a God who says he knows himself ("I am.") and who tell us he knows us. And, amazingly, still loves us.