Not Your Ordinary Valentine Message

Yeah, right! Valentine’s Day is just lurking around the corner. But before you let yourself carried away by the sweet-nothings of your beloved, before your raging hormones could get the worst out of you (haha), before the serotonins, endorphins and the fragrant aroma from the loads of chocolates and flowers you receive can get you on a state of euphoria and bliss (scientific, eh?), would you please stop? Just stop! Then, ask this perennial question. How and why did the heart became the symbol of love? Seriously, haven’t you ever thought about it?

To help you find possible answers to that question, I would like to share with you an essay entitled “Heart and Liver” which was shared to me by my teacher, mentor and friend, UP professor, Mykel Andrada. This one of the many essays in the book titled “House of Memory” by retired Filipino Literature professor and lecturer of the University of San Carlos-Cebu, Prof. Resil Mojares, is a beautifully crafted essay that provokingly questions why not the liver is used as a symbol of love. In a deeper note, it digs down to the core of Filipino languages – its etymology and culture. Read on!

The heart and the liver in a confrontation. Caricature lifted from redbubble.com

Heart and Liver
By Resil Mojares
House of Memory, pp. 109-110

How did it come to pass that we should love with our hearts and not with our liver?

The pre-Spanish Filipino, like many of his contemporaries in Southeast Asia, believed that the liver (atay) is the seat of love. More; it is the bodily center of a person’s being, the source of power, courage and strength. It is named in Philippine languages – atay, atey, hatay, ati – and has spawned numerous derivations that signify what is treasured, affective and elemental.

In Tagalog, emotion is dalamhati (literally, “inside the liver”) and intense feelings of grief, yearning and happiness are pighati, lunggati, and luwalhati. Metaphorically, atay is used to refer to the best of anything, so the most fertile land is atay ng lupa, and the softest, most “feeling” part of the hand or leg is atay ng paa or, in Cebuano, atay-atay. In old Tagalog, a proud and powerful man is called pagmamayatay (“he who claims to have the liver”). In Cebuano, one speaks of glowing praise as makapadaku sa atay (“enlarges the liver”) and of what causes a sharp, rending emotion as makapakitbi sa atay (“curdles the liver”).

So elemental is the liver that among the Bagobo, Manobo and Mandaya, one eats a piece of an enemy’s liver to gain his power and enhances one’s strength. The aswang knows what the best body part is, and aims straight for the liver (the body’s bloodiest organ) instead of the heart.

Such native knowledge is not particular to Filipinos but found among early peoples in other parts of the world. Ancient medical theorists, like the second-century Greek physician Galen, ascribed to the liver great powers both physiological and mystical. It is then no surprise that our native expressions have equivalents in other languages, like English (to be “liverish” is to feel an internal discomfort and to be “lilylivered” is to be wanting in courage).

In contrast, the mythology of the heart is not as attractive nor is its chemistry as complex. The most versatile organ, the liver has some 200 different functions: it manufactures bile, removes poisons, processes nourishing sugars, forms antibodies, purifies the blood, enhances its flow, and more. It has amazing recuperative powers for when a part of it is damaged it can grow new cells to replace lost ones. If there is a chemistry to love, there is no better place for it than this wonderful chemical capital of the body, the liver. Beside it, the heart is a rather dull organ.

I’m sure all this is not convincing anyone to barter the heart for the liver. I don’t expect anyone would be sending a Valentine’s card with a drawing of the liver instead of the heart. The merchandising possibilities do not look attractive – jaundice yellow instead of the signature red, and instead of Cupid shooting arrows into a heart, a witch or sorcerer digging in for the liver? And I have to admit, it does not sound romantic to speak of one love-struck as giatay. (Though, come to think of it, “struck by pestilence” – which is what giatay means – is not at all an inaccurate metaphor for love.)

We have come to fancy the simpler, softer, sanitary imagery of the heart. Yet, turning away from the more darkly visceral symbolism of the liver, we may have missed out on the denser, earthier, more dangerous and labyrinthine qualities of love.

Your Hallmark message of a tame and prettified love do not quite grab the heart, er, I mean, liver, as this old Palawanon verse: On the areca tree by the wayside, / I etched a sign: / My liver hungers for you.

And so, what now? Shall we say this now to our significant other, “I liver you, my love”? Anyway, a passionate valentines day to all of you, guys! (liver icon here) 🙂