La busca

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La nena, con sus 8 añotes y sabiendo que me marchaba a otro país por varios meses, me dejó helado y lleno de interrogantes al desearme lo siguiente:

"Ojalá que encuentres lo que buscas".

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El baño coreano

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Aunque nunca contraje el hábito de tirar y recoger jabones, los baños públicos no me son ajenos. Desde que tengo uso de memoria mi papá solía llevarme indistintamente a los Baños Villalongín, a los Baños Azteca, a los del Venustiano; ya cuando iba en la universidad, asistía por mi cuenta día a día a ducharme y a sudar un poco en los del Britannia. Siempre preferí el sauna y su olor a madera, la imagen de las rocas al rojo vivo y el calor en un ambiente seco. Los baños ruso y turco siempre me dieron hueva. En Marruecos el baño turco es un asco: hombres en calzones tumbados sobre el suelo, uno tras otro, dejando escurrir las impurezas de su cuerpo sobre las baldosas, sólo para que otro bañista ocupe ese mismo sitio anegado de sudor, apenas esté libre. Ni hablar del olor de ese lugar. En fin, que de entre todos los baños que conozco, recién descubrí que la modalidad de baños públicos más completa es la de los baños coreanos. El proceso es el siguiente: Entras al recinto y se proced
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Letter to Hannah

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Hi Hannita, Hope you are doing great. During the last few months I've been doing research on therapy with psychedelics, particularly with psilocybin, a.k.a. magic mushrooms. I was willing to try it back in Mexico (sessions in Oregon are so expensive and in Mexico you find this stuff for free hehe). Last Sunday I was walking in Venice Beach and I saw a shop that sold chocolate bars and gummies with psilocybin. I bought a bar. I tried it on Monday after work. Not for fun or in a recreational way, but laying down covering my eyes the whole time to see my mind, my subconscious, what lays deep inside. It lasted 4 hours. I saw the most mind blowing landscapes I could have ever imagined and I went back to my past. I saw my childhood, laying on my dad's shoulder at age 5 and feeling his warmth, I saw all my friends, my brother telling me that he was with me all the time with his overwhelming presence and light, I saw my grandparents and uncles that have passed away saying hi, holding m
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In Praise of Melancholy

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Melancholy is not rage or bitterness; it is a noble species of sadness that arises when we are properly open to the idea that suffering and disappointment are at the heart of human experience. It is not a disorder that needs to be cured; it is a tender-hearted, calm, dispassionate acknowledgment of how much agony we will inevitably have to travel through. Modern society’s mania is to emphasize buoyancy and cheerfulness. It wishes either to medicalize melancholy states –and therefore “solve” the problem- or to deny their legitimacy altogether. Yet melancholy springs from a rightful awareness of the tragic structure of every life. We can, in melancholy states, understand without fury or sentimentality that no one truly understands no one else, that loneliness is universal and that every life has its full measure of shame and sorrow. The melancholy knows that many of the things that we most want are in tragic conflict: to feel secure and yet to be free; to have money and yet not to be b
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