Before talking about the dynamics of concepts, I’d like to clarify: what exactly do you mean by “being”? Do you equate it with the linguistic meaning of the word, or with a concept?

I believe that these findings have a direct impact on the things that we have discussed with you in other topics.

For example:

Then there's the added confusion around the word 'substance'. As you might know, 'substance' in philosophy means something quite different from 'substance' in everyday use. The philosophical term originated with the Latin translation of Aristotle's 'ouisia', which is much nearer in meaning to 'being' than to our word 'substance'. Essentially, for Aristotle, substance is the underlying reality that persists through change. A substance is a combination of matter (the potential to be something) and form (the actual, defining essence of that thing).The translation was actually 'substantia', meaning, that of which attributes can be predicated.

So the upshot of all of this, was that Western culture adopted this rather oxymoronic conception of 'spiritual substance' or 'thinking substance'. Whereas, the ability to manipulate analyse and exploit material substance, the main occupation of science and engineering, proceeded brilliantly. So when modern people talk about 'dualism', it is usually something like Cartesian dualism that they have in mind, even if they don't know any details of how that originated or really what it means, And besides, they will say, the idea of 'thinking substance', which they will equate with 'soul', is an outmoded concept. Everyone knows, they will say, that mind is what the brain does, the credo of scientific materialism. — Wayfarer

Some people ask, "What does your ontology give me?"

The answer is: EVERYTHING.

The way a person understands themselves, for starters.
If you reconsider the foundation on which everything is built, won't it change the superstructure?

Here's what the AI found on this issue in deep analysis mode:

Greek Ousia and the Verb "To Be" (Einai)
The origins of the philosophical tradition, as is well known, lie in Ancient Greece. Here, the central term for designating essence or substance was ousia (οὐσία). Its etymology is of crucial importance: it is derived from the present participle feminine ousa of the verb einai (εἶναι), meaning “to be” or “I am.” This direct grammatical connection between the philosophical concept of “what a thing is” and the act of “it is” constitutes a unique intellectual foundation.
This connection implies that the concept of ousia is not an external abstraction but is deeply rooted in the very act of being. The nominal form ousia (a noun) carries the active, dynamic force of the verb (action). This suggests that for Greek philosophers, the starting point for reflections on being was inseparable from its living manifestation. Aristotle employed ousia in his Categories, defining prōtē ousia (πρῶται οὐσίαι), or primary substance, as a concrete, individual thing (e.g., “this man”), which serves as the ultimate subject of predication and the fundamental essence of reality. According to Aristotle, all other categories—qualities, quantities, relations—are ontologically dependent on this primary substance (Aristotle, Categories).
Latin Substantia and the Loss of Connection
A critical conceptual divergence occurred with translation. The term ousia was rendered into Latin as substantia. Substantia, in turn, derives from the verb substare, meaning “to stand under” or “to support.”
This substitution was not merely an innocent choice but a profound conceptual shift. The transition from a term tied to the verb “to be” (ousia) to one based on the metaphor of “standing under” (substantia) fundamentally altered the philosophical intuition about the nature of reality. The word substantia encourages thinking in terms of an underlying stuff or a bearer of properties, a fixed substrate, rather than a living act of being. This is the very “starting point of mistranslation” we sought to identify. This translation gave rise to a centuries-long intellectual habit of seeking a stable, unchanging foundation beneath the veil of a changing reality.
Historical context confirms this. Philosophers such as Boethius (ca. 475–526 CE), who translated Aristotle’s logical works, played a key role in shaping the Latin philosophical vocabulary. Following his translations of Porphyry’s Isagoge and commentaries on Aristotle’s Categories, a Latin tradition emerged that, for seven centuries, remained underinformed about Greek philosophy. This tradition was forced to develop its own vocabulary and concepts based on these foundational translational choices (Boethius, Commentaries on Aristotle’s Categories).
Finally, this conceptual divergence was definitively cemented in early Christian theology, particularly in debates about the Trinity. The use of the term homoousios (“consubstantial”) and the subsequent distinction between ousia and hypostasis required a strict, technical definition of “substance” that was entirely detached from its Greek, etymological roots. This theological dispute transformed the concept of a static substance into an unquestionable dogma, firmly embedding it in the cultural and intellectual foundation of Europe.

Incidentally I might mention that 'substance' in philosophy is more properly 'substantia', 'the bearer of predicates', than 'substance' 'a material with uniform properties'. The philosophical term 'substance' is actually a different word than the everyday English word 'substance'. Of course this is common knowledge to students of philosophy but it doesn't hurt to repeat it from time to time. — Wayfarer

This is a wonderful comment that led me to the following reflections:

The key Greek concept of ousia was a noun derived from the verb einai (“to be”). This etymological connection lends it a dynamic connotation, closely aligned with “being” or “existence” (Aristotle, Metaphysics). In contrast, the Latin translation substantia was derived from the verb substō, literally meaning “to stand under” or “to be the foundation of something.” This translation has been deemed inadequate, as it “reified” or transformed the dynamic act of being into a static “something” that “stands under” things as their foundation (Heidegger, Introduction to Metaphysics).

In my view, this conceptual shift had profound consequences for the entirety of Western philosophy. Instead of exploring being itself as an event or process, metaphysics became preoccupied with the search for a static, indivisible “substance”—an unchanging foundation of reality. A striking example of this is René Descartes’ dualism, which divided the world into two independent substances: the thinking substance (res cogitans) and the extended substance (res extensa) (Descartes, Meditations on First Philosophy). This pursuit of a fixed, foundational “thing” underpinned many philosophical systems. Martin Heidegger, critiquing this tradition, argued that the translation of ousia as substantia lost the original, dynamic meaning of ousia as Being, leading to the “forgetfulness of being” and its reduction to the realm of beings (Heidegger, Being and Time).

Thus, the historical precedent of translating ousia as substantia serves as evidence for my hypothesis, going beyond mere speculation. This case demonstrates how linguistic form can transform a dynamic process into a static entity, creating a dominant paradigm that process philosophers, such as Hegel (Phenomenology of Spirit), Whitehead (Process and Reality), and Deleuze (Difference and Repetition), had to consciously overcome over centuries.

Incorrect translation is not a separate problem, but, as I believe, a consequence and confirmation of my main idea. He demonstrates how linguistic features, in this case the obligatory use of the bundle "to be," can predetermine fundamental philosophical concepts and direct metaphysics towards the search for a substantive basis, which then had to be consciously overcome.

We can illustrate the problem of “mistranslation” with the example of Parmenides’ statement: “Being is, non-being is not.” In a language with an obligatory copula, this phrase sounds like a final statement fixing being. In contrast, the translation of the same phrase into Kazakh and Chinese, suggested at the beginning of our discussion, completely changes its meaning: “Becoming is, non-becoming is not” (Bolý bar, bolmaý joq) or “The Way exists, the non-Way does not” (dào yǒu, fēi dào wŭ). These translations turn a statement about a static entity into a dynamic statement about a process and a relationship. This is a clear example of “mistranslation” as a conceptual act, not a grammatical error.

↪Astorre The Latin 'substantia' was used as the translation for the Greek 'ouisia'. But 'ouisia' is a form of the Greek verb 'to be', which has very different implications than what 'substance' conveys. See this heading. It is directly connected to the OP in my opinion. — Wayfarer

Thank you, this is a great starting point for additions to the work.I dug up some stuff here, I'll share it later

Mary knows that in the future she will know new things, even though she doesn't know what these new things will be. — RussellA

Mary doesn't know that her reality has changed. After reading the book, she may learn that there may be another reality, different from her own reality. Or she may not learn, if she is convinced of her ideas and does not allow others (and perhaps she will start praying to her black-and-white deity)

But Mary may also like Abay, who claimed that the world may be colorful, but we, black-and-white inhabitants, all see it in black and white. How can Mary imagine this if her life is black and white? Perhaps she will start asking Abay questions on a black-and-white forum, demanding that Abay explain how she can understand colors with the help of her black-and-white thinking.

And so she tries to knock out of Abay how to do this, but Abay cannot recommend anything to her (since he himself understands that there is no methodology that allows this to be done), saying that she confuses Understanding with Essence.

In fact, no one can know if there is reality itself of which one's own reality is just a part. — RussellA

This is the common point where solipsism, radical skepticism and phenomenalism, and in a milder form, Kantianism, meet. The difference between them is whether they believe that external reality does not exist at all, or merely admit that we cannot know whether it exists.

Baudrillard added to this the idea of a world of "hyperreality" in which simulacra (copies of non-existent originals) replace reality.

Incidentally I might mention that 'substance' in philosophy is more properly 'substantia', 'the bearer of predicates', than 'substance' 'a material with uniform properties'. The philosophical term 'substance' is actually a different word than the English 'substance'. Of course this is common knowledge to students of philosophy but it doesn't hurt to repeat it from time to time. — Wayfarer

I speak English at the level of: gossiping with a neighbor. Reading a tabloid newspaper or traveling is enough. When I write here, I first write in my native language, then I have to translate it with a translator, and then proofread it in English and check what I wrote with a reverse translation. Thus, I cannot take into account the subtleties between substances. In my native language, there is no such difference in spelling, since the word substance is most likely originally understood in Russian in a philosophical sense. In everyday life, we use the word "veshchestvo". But, thanks for the clarification

Yes, I agree. In fact, RussellA, just now pushed me to another thought.
Let's say we have confirmed: The world is not static and does not consist of substance. It is dynamic and eventful. Then, the question arises, how to know it? Let's take phenomenology, returning to the things themselves as they are given. The method is good, but it essentially records the world in new frames.. Phenomenology allows us to clear our judgments from previous experience. Cleared. And again took a picture.

It turned out very interesting. The world is not a picture, ok. But how then to know it? What do you think about this?

I exist within my own reality, whatever that reality is. It is logically impossible to discover what exists outside my own reality using knowledge that is part of my own reality. — RussellA

Your "own reality" is not reality itself, but your idea of it. Human perception is limited: the eye does not see bacteria, the skin feels the wind, but does not determine its exact speed or temperature. We invent tools to expand the boundaries of the senses - and ontology and epistemology are such a tool (in the broad sense).

If we consider an object only as a fixed "snapshot", we narrow the possibilities of cognition. According to the main idea of my work, language itself - through grammatical structure and, in particular, the copula - inclines us to such fixation. From this follows a logical proposal: to think of an object not as a completed entity, but as a process. This changes the very framework of research and the way we interact with reality.

Then, in this case, when I am thinking about my own reality, which comes first, epistemology or ontology. — RussellA

What is primary depends on where you look from

It is logically impossible to discover what exists outside my own reality using knowledge that is part of my own reality — RussellA

It is logically (rationally) that we can admit that what we know is incomplete, because we cannot know everything (due to limitations). This is how science often works: something is first presented theoretically, and then confirmed experimentally.

But there is no normal way to talk about “being” qua being. When we talk normally, and make our topic “being”, we impose things in the topic that obfuscate and cover up what we are trying to say. — Fire Ologist

Here is what Heidegger wrote on this subject: “The meaning of the word ‘being’ is the most general and at the same time the most empty. But at the same time it is consistently used in every speech, and we supposedly know what it means – until we are asked about it.”

I agree with you.

It seems to me that you are mixing phenomenal perception (direct/indirect realism) with processuality (becoming). Direct realism (tables exist independently) and indirect realism (tables in consciousness) concern epistemology - how we know the world - and not the ontology of processuality (being as flow) or substantialism (being as essence). My hypothesis focuses on the ontological perception shaped by language, and not on the epistemological perception of reality. In the example you give, "Socrates seeking truth" remains a "snapshot". The abstract definition of a philosopher ("seeking wisdom") itself is static, since it describes a role, not a dynamic. In my approach, processuality is a continuous becoming, as in Dostoevsky ("to save oneself every moment"), Abai ("science of Zhol") or Buddha (anicca), where being flows and is not fixed even in abstraction. That is, saying that considering the expression "Socrates is a philosopher" implies not only a concrete existence ("from Athens"), but also an abstract process ("seeks wisdom"), you remain within substantialism.

BUT. All that has been said does not in any way diminish the presence of a processual approach and processual understanding in the West. Moreover, I am not saying that the West is necessarily substantial, and the East is necessarily processual. The main hypothesis was that language simply contributes to this. But this does not mean that a philosopher born in London is doomed to substantialism, and one born in Beijing to processualism. As we see, and I emphasized this in the previous answer - the East and the West mutually influence each other and, being in this involvement with each other, they mutually become and continue to do this and right now (in my opinion) we are doing exactly this. This is great

That's a really sharp observation, and it's certainly how it might appear to a non-native speaker at first glance. The reality is a bit more nuanced.
In Russian, constructions often express a state through the subject's experience or the givenness of that state, rather than through possession. When we say "Мне холодно" (literally "To me is cold"), "Мне грустно" (To me is sad), or "Мне весело" (To me is cheerful), we're using adverbs of state. This doesn't mean "cold is attacking me" or "I'm becoming an object of external force." Instead, it describes an internal sensation, answering the question, "How is it for me?" (Or, "How do I feel my current state?"). The subject here is the experiencer, not an active possessor or a passive recipient of impact.
This difference is key:

As you mentioned, in German: I have a state. (Emphasis on possession and control.)
In Russian: A state is given to me / I experience a state. (Emphasis on givenness, experience, and immediate perception.)
Does This Influence Respective Philosophies?
I can't state definitively that it does, but it's certainly thought-provoking. We were recently discussing phenomenology, and this connects quite well. To some extent, this Russian emphasis on givenness (like "мне холодно," "мне кажется" - "it seems to me," or one-word impersonal sentences like "смеркается" - "it's getting dark") resonates strongly with phenomenology without the formal method itself.
What I mean is, quite seriously, when a Russian speaker says "мне холодно," they're subconsciously sharing how they're living through that experience. In fact, I remember studying phenomenology myself, and as a native Russian speaker, it took me a long time to grasp what was fundamentally new about it compared to my everyday experience. Perhaps this contributes to forming a mindset where the focus is on perceiving what's happening rather than on actively owning one's body as property.
I must stress that I can only judge this from my own experience. If you happen to have a native Russian speaker nearby (there are many around these days, thankfully! ), just let them read this and compare their feelings with mine.

I don't know if it's intentional or not, but now you've come to compare Russian and European romanticism in literature, which is even more radical, as you put it, than Dostoevsky's. I provided references to Russian writers and philosophers at your request to support the ideas of processualism. However, I don't want to compare anyone's quality or level. My goal is to offer a new perspective in ontology. This was achieved by highlighting the linguistic differences. If, in the current situation, intelligent people start measuring themselves in terms of literature or philosophy, like the average person, then who will we have to rely on? Politicians measure economies, the military measures the size of missiles, writers measure their works, and philosophers measure their philosophies. I don't think I chose this approach. What if we stop proving and try to have mutual respect? The world is not a snapshot. Being is not a substance. What is impossible today will become commonplace tomorrow.

I agree "is" does not seem to distract from the "what", which is more pure. Whatness. Without distraction. Simply present. Letting the being continue breathing and not packing into a stagnant what through sentence structure. — Fire Ologist

Again, very interesting, congratulations. Of course this is to just tease the meat of the findings, but I find the research/evidence does allow for an astounding perspective, particularly how the classic philosophical framework is seemingly baked into the language. — Antony Nickles

Thank you for your interest and support. I was pleased with both the interest and skepticism of other participants, the approach to further analysis, and the development of ideas. Unfortunately, I did not have time to respond to all the comments, I am only now sorting them out.

Do you think we can discover something new by changing the perspective in this way?

As the article Analytic and Continental Philosophy: 4 Key Differences writes — RussellA

Interesting theory. From the Eastern perspective, continental philosophy looks quite analytical. If you cover the entire Eurasian continent and pave the way from India to Great Britain, you get a spectrum from hot and sensual to cold and analytical.

And yes, I just asked AI:

In Hindi, domes are obligatory, while in Bengali, Odia, Tamil, domes are either absent or optional.

What's even more interesting: Buddha lived in Northern India. At that time, the main languages of the region were Prakrit languages - colloquial dialects derived from Sanskrit, as opposed to the literary Sanskrit used in Vedic texts.
The most likely language that Buddha spoke was Pali or the closely related Prakrit of Magadha. Pali became the language of canonical Buddhist texts (Tripitaka), since it was considered close to the spoken language of Buddha. Magadhi was the main dialect of the region where the Buddha preached.

Copula in Pali:
In Pali, as in other Prakrits, the copula is the verb असति (asati, "to be"), derived from Sanskrit asti. In the present tense, the copula is often used in statements of identity or quality: for example, "सो भिक्खु असति" (so bhikkhu asati, "He is a monk"). However, in colloquial speech and some contexts, the copula could be omitted, especially in descriptive sentences: "सो भिक्खु" (so bhikkhu, "He is a monk"), which is similar to Russian ("Socrates is a philosopher") or Kazakh ("adam aqyldy").
In the past tense, the copula is obligatory: "सो भिक्खु आसि" (so bhikkhu āsi, "He was a monk"), as in Hindi (thā) or Russian ("there was a doctor"). Pali also uses constructions without copula to express states or qualities, especially in philosophical texts: "सब्बं अनिच्चं" (sabbam aniccam, "Everything is impermanent"), where the copula is implied but not explicitly stated.

I know of two cultures which have been claimed as thinking radically differently about being, presence and purpose in comparison with Western approaches. Heidegger singled out pre-Socratic thinkers like Heraclitus and Parmenides as understanding becoming in a fundamental way that was derailed when Socrates, Plato and Aristotle shifted the focus on beings and truth as correctness, and Western thinking has followed suite ever since. It didnt matter to Heidegger whether a language like Russian was missing the present tense copula or not. What mattered was what kind of philosophical and religious literature was produced within those languages without the copula. If the simple absence of the copula in a language predisposes their culture toward modes of thought which avoid the trap of fixing becoming into being, where is the evidence of this in their philosophical writings? — Joshs

I am not aware of any Russian philosophers who directly linked the absence of a copula in the language to a different approach to understanding reality. Perhaps someone has mentioned this, but it is unknown to me. However, I can speak about the distinct approach of Russian philosophers to being. (For them, as for Heidegger, the presence or absence of a copula in language was not significant.)

I will try to explain what this distinction entails in the context of our discussion. This is a very interesting topic, and I would like to start with Dostoevsky, although he was not an academic philosopher, his literary works are considered philosophical.
Dostoevsky viewed human being as a process tied to freedom and moral choice, rather than a static essence. In Notes from Underground (1864), the protagonist—the underground man—rejects rationalistic determinism, symbolized by the “crystal palace,” a utopian idea where human behavior is predictable and subject to the laws of nature. He asserts that human being is defined by free will, even if it leads to irrational or self-destructive actions: “Man needs… only independent volition, whatever it may cost and wherever it may lead.”. "Eh, gentlemen, what kind of free will is there when it comes to arithmetic, when only twice two four is in use? Twice two will be four without my will. Is this what free will is?"
(https://www.newyorker.com/books/page-turner/can-dostoevsky-still-kick-you-in-the-gut)

In The Brothers Karamazov (1880), Elder Zosima teaches that life is a continuous process of spiritual becoming, where each moment of choice brings a person closer to or further from God: “Every moment one must save oneself.” He describes being as a movement through time, shaped by love and responsibility.
For Dostoevsky, being is not a fixed state but a dynamic process of struggle, doubt, and spiritual becoming. Each moment of choice shapes a person, making their existence open and unfinished. This resonates with the idea of “living in becoming,” where being is not a sequence of fixed “snapshots” but a dynamic process tied to will and responsibility.
The Russian-Ukrainian philosopher Grigory Skovoroda, in his work Narcissus, viewed being as a triadic unity of the macrocosm (the universe), the microcosm (the human), and symbolic reality (Holy Scripture). He emphasized that being is a process of uncovering the invisible divine nature, not a static essence.
Nikolai Berdyaev clearly distinguished between “being” and “existence” in works such as The Philosophy of Freedom (1911) and The Meaning of the Creative Act (1916). He argued that being is tied to spiritual freedom and creativity, while existence refers to the material, objective world subject to necessity.
Similarly, the works of Alexei Losev (1893–1988) reveal ideas of the processuality of being. For example, in his multi-volume History of Ancient Aesthetics, Losev reinterprets the Platonic eidos as a dialectical process rather than a static form. He writes: “Eidos is a becoming form, a living dialectic of matter and meaning” (Volume 1, section “Platonic Eidos”). For Losev, being is not a fixed substance but a process of interaction between form, matter, and the subject, where every thing is constantly transformed through its meaning.
Russian philosophy, developing from the 18th century, especially in the 19th and 20th centuries, differs from Western philosophy in its emphasis on spirituality, existential questions, and a holistic perception of being. It is often tied to the religious and mystical traditions of Orthodoxy. Unlike Western philosophy, which, starting with Descartes and Kant, focused on rationalism, systematization, and substantialism, Russian thought leans toward processuality, intuitiveness, and ethical reflection. Russian philosophers such as Vladimir Solovyov, Nikolai Berdyaev, Alexei Losev, Grigory Skovoroda, and Fyodor Dostoevsky (as a thinker) often viewed being as a dynamic process tied to freedom, creativity, and spiritual becoming, rather than a static essence.
Undoubtedly, there were other Russian philosophers who thought in the context of substantialism, but those I have listed are studied in universities as having had the greatest influence on Russian philosophy as a whole.

To complete the picture, I will give an example from Kazakh philosophy
Abai Kunanbayev (1845-1904) viewed being as a dynamic process of spiritual and moral improvement. In "Words of Edification" (for example, the 25th word), he emphasizes that a person must constantly develop through reason, labor and morality: "Reason and labor are the main qualities that an ideal person must master." His philosophy emphasizes the continuous movement towards enlightenment, overcoming ignorance and achieving harmony with society and nature. In poems such as "Spring" or "Summer", nature is depicted as a changeable, living force, reflecting the process of becoming a person and society.

For Heidegger, the process of being is an analytical disclosure of Dasein through care, where the subject exists in "abandonment" and is directed towards death. This is a more abstract and universal approach, without drama or ethical passion. The Eastern approach is more emotional, spiritual, connected with personal ethics, with a development that may be erroneous but humane.

Were these works inspired by the absence of a copula in the language? I don’t know. In any case, I am unaware of any works that explicitly state, “We have no copula, therefore we are processualists.” Is my idea speculative? Perhaps. But then what philosophical intuition is non-speculative?

It may be argued that the words used in language are more metaphorical than they are literal, if you get my drift, and it is the nature of the metaphor that there is no essence, statis or fixity of meaning. — RussellA

I also want to say that it's quite possible the very framing of the question, the very premise, might be a kind of speculation or a misunderstanding on my part. This is precisely why I published it here—so that philosophers or simply native speakers could offer guidance, direction, or challenge my ideas.

At the same time, I want to share with you that by starting from this premise, I was able to arrive at something new in the subsequent chapters of my work.

If we stop fixating on essence and separate the concepts of sushchee (existent) and bytie (being), we can arrive at some interesting conclusions. The very notions of bytie and sushchee in Russian are something different. To exist (sushchestvovat’) simply means to be in a state where your attributes do not change by your own will (a stone lying on the ground, a tree growing according to its program, or an AI operating by an algorithm). To be (byt’) is something more than mere existence. It's roughly what happens when something can change its attributes at its own discretion (a prime example is a human, but not necessarily only them).

I write in more detail about the attributes of sushchee in my work. In due time, I will share all of this, so as not to lead the current conversation too far astray. But these intuitions came from the very feeling that byt’ and sushchestvovat’ are two different things.

Being, in my opinion, is not just a snapshot or a sequence of snapshots that can be captured. Yes, it can be done and it can be described to an external observer in this way. And it will be scientific and substantiated and very Western. But being is something more. It is what makes it possible to capture, film or feel. To live in becoming.

I think you're saying phenomenology is a kind of fraud. I think it is in some cases, but ontology is an empty building in my mind. Nobody lives there, and it's fairly important to me that it stay that way. — frank

No, it is not so clear-cut. I believe that phenomenology has given the very possibility of philosophically rethinking the Western approach to understanding the world.

Eastern traditions proceed from the direct experience of being: be it "awakening" in Zen, "liberation" in Vedanta or "the path" in Taoism. This experience can be paradoxical, but it is considered reliable without rational justification.

The Western mind (especially since the New Age) was brought up in the paradigm of rationality, analysis, proof, so phenomenology is like a methodical path back to the intuitive. Through descriptions of intentionality, the "life of consciousness", the horizon of meaning, it makes possible an approach to this Eastern "self-evident".

Phenomenology is like an intellectual bridge, with the help of which the Western mind was able to come to a contemplative, immediate, "Eastern" way of perceiving being. At the same time, it remains Western in its style of thinking: it seeks a path through awareness, not through the rejection of consciousness.

For example:
Husserl: epoche - "removing" attitudes in order to see things as they are. Zen: shikantanza (just sitting) - full presence without analysis.

Heidegger: Gelassenheit - letting go, allowing to be. Dao: wu wei - non-action as a way to correspond to the path.

Wittgenstein emphasized the ambiguity of the verb “to be”. He denied there was such a thing as identity, reasoning that i) to say two things are identical is nonsense and ii) to say one thing is identical with itself is to say nothing.

Frege distinguished different meanings of “is”.
1) Identity – Bachelors are unmarried – have the same meaning
2) Copula – Plato was Greek – one characteristic of the subject
3) Existence - There are cats – some things exist
4) Generic class - A horse is a four-legged animal – several characteristics of the subject — RussellA

I think I understand what you are talking about and it intrigues me.

But here comes a very subtle point: although we imply identity, existence or generic class, nevertheless we kind of fix it in reality, indicating that it IS.

To be honest, I cannot imagine how the copula is thought of by a native speaker who has been using this language (for example, English, German or Greek) since birth, but for me, since English is not my native language, and my native language is Russian, this is perceived as an indication, confirmation, disclosure of content and fixation in reality itself.

For example: The cat is black. In Russian I will say "koshka chernaya", simply adding an adjective to the noun, just two words without IS. In Kazakh it will sound "мысық қара" similar to the Russian language.

The copula Is is added in Russian, but only when talking about tenses: past: "koshka byla chernaya" (the cat was black); in the future: "koshka budet chernaya" (the cat will be black). In the Kazakh language, everything is exactly the same, only the word order changes. "Mysyk Kara Boldy" (the cat was black); in the future: "Mysyk Kara Bolady" (the cat will be black).

I understand your idea, but I am talking about the need for fixation in being in Western languages, which, as I assume, is reflected in the very feeling of the world: Something is possible only when it is fixed. Hence these metaphors about our life being like a film on film (like a series of frames), but each frame separately is as if IT IS, it is fixed.

Probably, I could not express my thought in such a way as to emphasize its content. I did not object to the clarification that Heidegger was not a substantialist. I said that the very attempt to search for who Heidegger was is connected with the search for Heidegger's substance, which we do willingly or unwillingly.

I spoke about as a general property of philosophical discourse, where even attempts to talk about becoming remain within the framework of the substantialist habit.

As for the place of the subject and where the world is heading, I ask you to wait a little, all this will happen, but later. Everyone who responded to my work gave me many new human views, and secondly, hope that what I write about ontology will be interesting to the reader. This discussion is precisely what contributes to my text becoming more academic. And this encourages me to work further.

I was truly thrilled to see how vividly and thoughtfully you all responded to my work, "The Language of Philosophy."

As I read through the comments, I had a thought: they not only added new dimensions to our conversation but, and this is the most amazing part, they affirmed my main idea far more powerfully than I could have imagined!

I wrote about how the grammatical structure of language, especially the verb "to be," pushes us to search for a static, unchanging essence. And here's what I saw in our discussion: when I suggested we move beyond this and think of being as "becoming," we all, time and again, reverted to that familiar logic.

When RussellA and Count Timothy von Icarus cited the Italian verbs "essere" and "stare" or Heraclitus, you weren't, in essence, moving away from the concept of "being," but merely finding its different forms—permanent and temporary. The core ambition remained to define "what is" or "what was."

When Joshs and frank debated whether change is possible without rest, I saw a fascinating, yet ultimately still an attempt to reduce the dynamic of "becoming" to two fundamental, "substantial" categories—rest and change. This is the search for the basic elements that constitute being.

And even when Joshs spoke about Heidegger, who, as he correctly noted, grounded "is" in the event of "unfolding," this was, in essence, an effort to find that very first principle, that "root" of our being.

Our entire discussion, paradoxically, became a living illustration of my work.

We weren't just discussing my idea—we were proving it in practice, involuntarily demonstrating how deeply ingrained our habit is to search for "substance" when we talk about being. This realization struck me so profoundly that I simply had to share it.

My observation is by no means a criticism. Rather, it's about how, without realizing it, we continue to operate within this very paradigm of searching for the primary substance. The very format of our discussion is built on this: "M. said: A is B." "K. replied: Is A really B? For example, philosopher M believes that B consists of D + E, but E cannot be a part of A..." and so on. Substantialism, objectivism—this is a reliable train that has allowed us to travel into space and communicate with each other from thousands of miles away. But have we become happier, more friendly, more joyful? And if we consider what is happening in modern ontology (Object-Oriented Ontology or correlationism) and science (the constant refinement of AI, which is increasingly used as a weapon rather than a friend and assistant, and which is developing at an incredible speed), a doubt arises: is this train heading in the right direction, or is it a direction where there will be no room for the subject?

Your comment highlighted a very interesting point that I wasn't aware of, as I don't speak Italian. With the help of AI, I was able to examine the grammatical constructions using essere and stare, from which I've found that:

Sono arrabbiato (I am angry) vs. Sto arrabbiato (I am in a state of being angry). The first sentence can be perceived as a more fundamental characteristic of a person's identity, while the second is a temporary, transient mood.

In Russian, this is expressed as: «Я злой» (I am angry, i.e., always angry) or «Я злюсь» (I'm getting angry, I am in a state of anger).

Another example: Come sta? (How are you staying/being?) is a standard greeting that focuses attention on the current moment of one's well-being. It is not a question about "who you are" (Chi sei?), but about "how you are situated" (Come stai?).

One might think there's no difference, as English also has the verbs to be and to become. However: To become in English describes the process of transitioning from one state to another. For example, "The caterpillar becomes a butterfly." This is a verb of change, not a verb of being in a state. And the verb to become is not used as a linking verb in just any sentence.

Similarly, English has the present continuous tense (am/is/are + V+ing), which describes an action happening at the moment, not a state or a quality. It is used like this: "I am writing a letter"—this is an action, not a state of being.

BUT! Let's take the greeting, "How are you doing?" Is this an action or a state?

All of this points to the following:

One cannot radicalize the assertion of being as process for the East and being as static for the West.

The existence of such distinctions in the Italian language suggests that it is natural for humans to feel both a certain sense of the processuality of being and its static nature.



As Count Timothy von Icarus correctly observes, there are indeed works in Western philosophy that discuss processuality, and I don't dispute that. I'm arguing that the very act of thinking about processuality requires a conscious effort to break free from the pattern of substantialism.

You're absolutely right to point out those philosophers. However, while processualists existed (and had a significant impact), they were in the minority. The dominant paradigm was, and remains, substantialism. To speak of process, one had to deliberately step outside of this paradigm, and that was not an easy task.

The influence of processualist philosophers is undeniable, but they were working against the current. Philosophers who thought in terms of an unchanging essence and substance had a far greater impact on the broader worldview: Parmenides, Aristotle, for whom substance was the foundation of reality; René Descartes with his ideas of the substances res cogitans and res extensa.

It is this tradition that, I believe, created a pattern of thinking that influenced European languages and, as a result, philosophy itself.



Here is what I write about the hypothesis of linguistic relativity in another chapter of my work:

The previous analysis of the linguistic structures of various cultural traditions revealed a diversity of ways of expressing (or not expressing) being and entities. This diversity, manifested in the grammatical features of languages - from the Indo-European copula "is" to its optional nature in Russian and its absence in Turkic and Chinese languages - emphasizes the variability of ontological perspectives rooted in language. However, this observation requires strict methodological reflection in order to avoid hasty or unfounded conclusions. The assertion of a fundamental difference in ontological attitudes, for example, between Western and Eastern traditions, cannot be accepted without further in-depth analysis. Language, as E. Sapir and B. L. Whorf noted in their hypothesis of linguistic relativity, can influence cognitive and philosophical categories, but the extent of this influence remains a matter of debate. Conclusions about the direct determination of thinking by language require caution, since cultural, historical and social contexts also play a significant role and language changes dynamically. Language is constantly subject to change and formation. It follows that one should not blindly rely only on the “feeling of the word”. Nevertheless, the phenomenological approach to linguistic differences, which presupposes living these differences as a direct experience, opens up new perspectives for the philosophical understanding of being. The very feeling of recognizing the fundamental differences between languages is significant for us. The value of such an approach lies not in establishing universal patterns, but in the possibility of rethinking familiar ontological categories through a change in perspective.

Thank you for your interesting and varied comments! I am glad that my work touched you! Unfortunately, I was unable to participate in the discussion, but I will try to answer everyone as I study your comments.

That is, the life of the body is the actuality of our soul as a spiritual essence. — Count Timothy von Icarus

I would like to express my full agreement with this approach.

When I think about this, it seems very strange. The tradition that tends most towards literalism ends up also paying the least attention to concrete instantiations of the faith. And yet maybe it makes sense in a certain way. In the Anglophone context, ethics if often thought to be the main substance of the Church. But this is often paired with a view of ethics as sitting entirely outside nature as command. Likewise, a view of God as primarily will, and of notions of nature as a potentially nefarious limit on that will, would tend towards demoting nature in a way. — Count Timothy von Icarus

I am a parishioner of the Orthodox Church. But I send my friends who profess Orthodoxy and do not understand it, who just want to pray a little or listen to a sermon, to a Catholic church and they like it there better. Those who have visited a Catholic church then share their impressions of the simplicity and clarity of what is happening. Those who have visited a Catholic church are happy with the lack of pretentiousness, as well as the lack of the need to stand on their feet the entire service, listening to something in an incomprehensible Old Church Slavonic language (inherent in the Orthodox Church).

And they just like it, and personally I think that in religion it is very important that it finds a response in you

Thank you for your profound and inspiring response! I sense that for you, religion is not merely a rational comprehension but also a mystical, intentional experience, which deeply resonates with my own approach.

I’d like to share another idea related to my ontological inquiries, hoping it will pique your interest. Inspired by the ideas of Kierkegaard and Heidegger, I distinguish between existence and being. Existence is a passive state, the boundaries, tension, embodiment, and relatedness to others of which are defined externally: a stone, a tree (following its biological program), or an AI (executing an algorithm). These are “existents,” which simply are. Being (Dasein), on the other hand, is the capacity of an existent to redefine itself autonomously, driven by its inner freedom and aspirations. Being is a gift; it is a unique state of an existent. For instance, a human, through cognition and choice, possesses the ability to redefine all four criteria of existence—boundedness (ограниченность), tension (напряжённость), embodiment (воплощённость), and relatedness to others (причастность к другому)—and the stronger this capacity, the fuller their being.

Applying this to the dualistic concept of the soul, which supposedly leaves the body after death, I ask: where is the being in this? Can such a soul, deprived of a body, redefine itself? Can it even perceive itself? Can it aspire to anything? Based on the texts I’ve studied, the answer seems to be no. A separated soul appears as something that affects neither itself nor the world—akin to a stone. If so, what is its being, and what is the purpose of such an existence?

This question was the starting point for my essay. If this approach intrigues you, could you share your thoughts? How do you view the soul in the context of being and existence?

I apologize in advance for any confusion in terms, as the translator cannot cope with the semantic translation

I would like if we could discuss more things together, especially philosophy! I’m fascinated by your essay and I would like to hear more about your thought process. Would you like to talk sometime? it's alright if you cannot. — Null Noir

Of course, I'm always open to conversation!

I like your approach. Earlier, in the comments, I already referred to Descartes and his pineal gland as an attempt at a simple explanation of everything, which, judging by the popularity of this idea today, sounded simple and clear.

But since I am primarily interested not in theology, but in ontology (as are you, judging by your comments) and phenomenology, I wanted to try to deconstruct the Cartesian approach to human anthropology, to look in the fundamentals. Based on the theses that I outlined in the essay, the comments on this forum, early Christianity was something completely different from what is understood by it today. It was also perhaps something different in relation to the Aristotelian approach to ontology.

Will I be able to grasp this? I do not know, but I would like to get more diverse opinions on this matter, after which I would like to correct my essay.

Astorre, your essay is absolutely amazing. More amazing than any of the answers I have recieved so far. Are you studying theology? — Null Noir

Thank you! I'm studying ontology and phenomenology. This is my first attempt to talk about theology. However, I must admit that I wrote this article based on similar questions that you asked at the beginning of the topic.

I recommend reading my essay on this topic. https://thephilosophyforum.com/discussion/16096/the-origins-and-evolution-of-anthropological-concepts-in-christianity

Thank you for this clarification. I was unaware of the history of this term and in using it I was describing older ideas. "Monism" could have been used with the same success. My questions are not about terminology but rather about ideology. I am not interested in which teaching more accurately conveys the idea or metaphysics of that time. I am interested in the justification or refutation of the idea of monism in Christianity. I am interested in whether dualism, as well as the stories of heaven and hell, are later superstructures.

I had rather thought that Aristotle was the greater influence on Western (Catholic) Christianity due to the rediscovery of his works from the Islamic world. And that Platonism was more of an influence on Orthodox Christianity through Pseudo-Dionysius and other sources. Although it’s true that Plato is writ large in all of this. But I once put this to an Orthodox father and he was in agreement. — Wayfarer

That's the whole point. I don't know why, but the Fathers of the Orthodox Church don't talk about the idea of holism at all in private conversations. They answer questions based on dualism. Maybe it's the influence of Western culture (for example, films or literature), but the idea of dualism (soul + body, with the subsequent separation of the soul after death) seems self-evident to everyone. Personally, I came across the problem that served as the impetus for writing my essay purely by chance, through independent study. As it turned out in the process of writing, my intuition did not fail me and there is something in it.

And what is your personal opinion (not necessarily in the context of Christianity) does a person consist of a soul and a body or is he one?

I think the more developed Eastern theology of the Transfiguration marks a difference in emphasis here too. — Count Timothy von Icarus

Thank you all for your insightful and thoughtful comments! Your comments helped me to better understand the topic and to clarify some aspects of the essay. In response to your reflections, especially on the holistic approach in Orthodoxy (Count Timothy von Icarus) and on the balance between dualism and monism (Leontiskos), I would like to share the results of a phenomenological analysis that I conducted while visiting a Catholic and an Orthodox church. My goal is to relate these observations to the discussed topic of anthropology in Christianity.

For my research, I used a phenomenological method (inspired by Husserl and Merleau-Ponty) to describe how the liturgical experience in the churches of the two faiths manifests itself through bodily perception, intentionality, temporality, and the world of the senses. Here are my observations:

Catholic church:

Bodily experience: Lightness, a sense of verticality, airiness, “going up.”

Intentionality: Direction towards the transcendental — arrows of arches, light, striving towards the sky.

Givenness of the world: God is perceived as transcendental, calling, luminous.

Temporariness: Striving towards the future, dynamics of movement.

World of feelings: Clarity, cold light, harmony.

Orthodox church:

Bodily experience: Weight, feeling of confinement, “oppressive presence”.

Intentionality: Immersion within, all-consuming presence in the sacred.

Givenness of the world: God as all-present, dense, mysterious.

Temporariness: Stopping time, feeling of eternal present.

World of feelings: Warm shadow, richness of icon painting, sound fullness (singing, ringing of bells).

The purpose of this analysis was not to compare confessions with the aim of favoring one over the other, but to try to understand how liturgical experience shapes human perception, including ideas about soul, body and spirit. These observations, combined with the literature and our discussion, suggest differences in the anthropological approaches of Catholicism and Orthodoxy.

In the Catholic church, the liturgical experience emphasizes transcendence and aspiration to the divine, which may reflect a dualistic understanding: the soul is perceived as separate from the body and directed towards God, and heaven and hell are posthumous states or places. In the Orthodox church, the experience is more immanent, mystical, with an emphasis on the holistic presence of God in the world and man. This corresponds to a holistic approach, where soul, body and spirit are inseparable, and heaven and hell can be understood as states experienced already in earthly life through the body and senses.

These differences may be related to the influence of Platonism on Western Christianity, as we have discussed earlier (e.g. through Augustine), and to the persistence in Orthodoxy of a more monistic anthropology rooted in Eastern Fathers such as Maximus the Confessor or Gregory Palamas. Do you think that these phenomenological intuitions may point to differences in the anthropological views of the confessions? And can such an approach be used to further explore the topic of dualism and monism in Christianity?

Yes, perhaps this is the right word. AI suggests something like "communion." I will simply try to explain it: for a native Russian speaker, "communion" evokes a sense of deep involvement, participation, and almost mystical unity with something. In an Old Slavic context, the word may be associated with a religious or spiritual act (for example, "communion" in Orthodoxy as a connection to the divine).

In general, I identify such features of existence as limitations and Communion. In addition, there are two more features: Embodiment and Tension. I would like to discuss the main work in a consistent manner over time, breaking it down into separate essays on this forum. I hope for your "participation" in the future!

Yes

I wonder if this is at all relatable to Gilles Deleuze idea of the fundamental nature of difference? I only know about it from comments made here on this forum, but it strikes me that there’s a similarity. — Wayfarer

My work generally resonates with the ideas of Whitehead and Deleuze, but I add some additional layers to them. This slightly veers off from the main topic.

For instance, the next characteristic in my ontology is participation. Existence is possible not only through the difference of one from another but also through participation (like a tree with the soil or a beetle with dung)—in other words, difference alone is not enough. I consistently argue that something cannot exist on its own, and participation is precisely an ontological characteristic. Returning to your example—organisms do not merely maintain boundaries but exist through active participation in their environment, without which neither the environment nor the organisms themselves would be possible.

In Russian, I use the term "причастность," which doesn’t fully translate into English as "participation." Unfortunately, I cannot find a perfect English equivalent that captures its complete meaning.

I’ve probably strayed too far from the main topic.

Perhaps you might elaborate on why you think this must be so? (not that I don't agree with you!) — Wayfarer

I’m happy to answer your question, as it’s part of my broader work. I’ll try to describe this idea concisely, avoiding unnecessary elaboration.

My work is grounded in a process-oriented approach to ontology. Instead of seeking a final substance of everything, I’ve aimed to identify the key ontological characteristics of being—that is, the traits that define the existence of something. One such characteristic is limitation (not in the Kantian sense, but ontologically). Something is always distinct from something else; it always exists within certain boundaries. The uniqueness of human being, compared to other entities, lies in the ability to consciously alter some of its boundaries or limits, for example, through knowledge. However, boundaries must always be drawn, even if temporarily. Without boundaries, there is nothing to contain. Something without boundaries becomes nothing (just as a river that loses its banks ceases to be a river, or a planet that loses its limits ceases to be a planet). The same applies to human knowledge. Knowledge inherently requires boundaries. These boundaries must lie somewhere between knowing and not-knowing. Complete knowledge of everything would mean the absence of any boundary to knowledge, and the absence of a boundary implies the absence of being itself.

This is a rather complex explanation of my idea at the ontological level, but I hope you find it interesting.

People continue to live despite the lack of a definitive answer to the question of meaning, finding an irrational impulse that keeps them going. Let's leave it at that

I wonder the same things… — Fire Ologist

Frankly speaking, it seems to me that the idea of the resurrection of a person as a whole looks much more inconsistent to our contemporary than the separation of the soul after death. The soul cannot be measured (although some have tried), it is difficult to prove or disprove the exit of the soul from the body, but the decay of the body looks very clear. It will probably be very difficult to believe that the dust will then rise again. Ordinary people, not interested in theology, with whom I spoke, do not imagine any resurrection after their death at all. They all talk about purgatory and subsequent distribution in heaven or hell. Perhaps the current dualistic or trinitarian approach looks simpler, clearer and more logical to a contemporary.

You pose an interesting question with a well thought out OP. — Count Timothy von Icarus

Thank you for your deep and meaningful comments. I admit honestly, this is my first work on a Christian theme in my life, and reading your review I felt like a small fish in the ocean.

Indeed, the idea of resurrection was not new for that time. However, according to my information, it was not the central teaching for all of Judaism as a whole. The revolutionary nature of Christianity consisted in establishing this idea as central to the entire religion. But this is a very valuable remark and I will correct it in the essay.

Regarding the fact that Platonic ideas in that world were already gradually "growing into" the searches of progressive philosophers, I also have no doubt. But still, in my opinion, they were not a mass phenomenon at that time.

Reading your comment on the sanctity of relics, I caught myself thinking that I had not taken this phenomenon into account at all. Based on the main message of my essay, preserving the relics of saints in parts generally looks like depriving the deceased of the opportunity for resurrection.

In general, all the later superstructures of philosophers and theologians, who asked good questions as civilization developed and sought consistent answers to their questions, in my opinion lead to the fact that the basic idea itself is in complete decline. For example, Descartes was so carried away by the search for an interface connecting the soul and body that he proposed the existence of the pineal gland, which magically resolved all questions.

In conclusion, I would like to present you with an idea from the Orthodox confession about holism. Holism is a view of man as a single, inseparable, spiritual-mental-physical personality. There is no opposition of spirit and matter, but their interpenetration and interaction. As light permeates the air, so the soul permeates the body, forming a single whole. Unfortunately, I do not know for what reason, but none of the Orthodox priests I met mentioned this topic until I became familiar with it myself. Can you share with me about this area if you have knowledge on this topic?

I wonder if you would be willing to provide a rough bibliography for your ideas? — Leontiskos

There's a little bit of complexity to that. The fact is that my native language is Russian. I read books in Russian and write in Russian, and then translate with the help of translators or AI. I check the relevance of what was written using the reverse translation from Google. Bibliography is another matter. It is prepared, but in Russian. Below I will give a bibliography as the translator will translate it, but I cannot check the relevance of its translation. I apologize for this complexity but I can recommend using AI to find an analogue in English

1. Bible. Old and New Testament scripture books. Synodal translation. - M.: Russian Bible Society, 2012.

2. Plato. Fedon/State/Laws. Per. from ancient Greece. A. N. Egunova, F. A. Petrovsky and others - M.: Thought, 1994. - (Philosophical Heritage Series).

3. Irenaeus of Lyons. Against heresies. Per. with lat. and Greek N. N. Shevchenko. - St. Petersburg: Oleg Abyshko Publishing House, 2012. - (Church Fathers series).

4. Origen. About beginnings. Per. and entry. Art. I. D. Kuzmina. - M.: Nauka, 2000. - (Monuments of philosophical thought).

5. Clement of Alexandria. Stromates (Carpet patterns). Kn. I–III. Per. A.V. Sidorova. - St. Petersburg: Publishing House "ABC-Classics," 2007.

6. Augustine the Blessed. About the city of God. Per. with lat. A. S. Demina. - St. Petersburg: Amphora/OLMA Media Group, 2008. - (Series "Philosophy of the Middle Ages").

7. Apocalypse of Peter//Apocrypha of ancient Christians. Volume 1. Apocalypses. Per., Entry. Art. and comm. A.V. Mikhailova. - M.: Ladomir, 1997.

8. Gadamer, H.-G. Truth and method. Per. with nem. T.I. Oiserman and Ya. A. Borovoy. - M.: Progress, 1988.

This is a very interesting and fascinating topic for me. In addition to your conclusions, I would like to present some of my views, which I will express briefly.

1. AI does not have its own bodily way of perceiving the world. Everything that AI "knows" about us, about our affairs, it takes from human texts. Returning to the ideas of Heidegger, Husserl, Merleau-Ponty, AI is deprived of temporality and finitude, it is deprived of living experience. Today it is a complex algorithmic calculator.

2. I am convinced that the origins of being, which make a person who he is, cannot be known rationally. But if such knowledge occurs, the meaning of being itself will immediately disappear and it will simply disappear. If we describe the theory of being programmatically and algorithmically, it turns out that the very purpose of being is to execute the algorithm. Finding meaning leads to the loss of meaning.

Хотя я не смотрел видео, — практика

Judging by the answer, you not only did not watch the video, but also did not read what I wrote.

The author criticizes religion for the lack of a uniform approach to such concepts as life after death, achieving it, and also for the fact that in all religions there is a certain superhero who gives the truth.

I suggested a new layer: what if the idea of ​​life after death is, first of all, an attempt to justify ethics. you behave well, after death you get a continuation of life in heaven. the concept of behaving well for different times and societies has different content. hence the different ways to get to "heaven" in different religions.

I only said that as a tool for justifying good behavior, religions do not contradict each other.

For example, the Wheel of Samsara in Hinduism served as one of the ideological justifications for the caste system, explaining social inequality through karma and motivating people to follow caste duties for the sake of a better rebirth. the idea of Valhalla for the Vikings justified courage, heroism and risk for warriors. the idea of humility in the name of heaven in Christianity made it easier for the lowest classes to accept their oppression.

The list goes on and on. The main idea is that the justification through the afterlife (or rebirth) has always served for ethic