The evil of our time

That disease of our time that is the pandemic has made a common denominator what in a video call one of my best friends has baptized as the “Clementine Syndrome”. This is due to the co-star of The Eternal Shining of a Mind without Memories (Michel Gondry, 2004). In the story, starring Kate Winslet and Jim Carrey, Clementine experiences a continual anguish for the yet unlived present, a fear that she is not making the most of her time. Hence the coining of the name of the syndrome, which must have more polished terminology in some field of medicine. I lived the incarnation of that syndrome powerfully last year and that is why I promised myself to enforce 2021 intensely, of course I lost my hand and I even fell in love with a beautiful from Guadalajara, Red-haired Sun, who at the same time returned with her ex-boyfriend. Fortunately, the constructive and non-lacerating aspects of 2021 have been traveling and having long talks. Thus, and with the forced democratization of remote work, I escaped the Sinaloa heatwave and went to the capital of Veracruz, just when the state had decriminalized abortion. There I found Xalapa surrounded by a lace of green hands painted throughout the building, even the doors. At the same time, at the beginning of this month the Supreme Court of Justice of the Nation determined as unconstitutional to criminalize abortion throughout the Mexican territory, and although there may be conflicting positions on this, the fact is that abortion is already legal in a country where women who even suffer a miscarriage are sent to prison. The first thing that pristine Supreme Court ruling reminded me was something personal that I will talk about later, but more on the level of ideas I thought of Carl Sagan’s great text on abortion throughout history. Ideas are always changing and you have to do everything possible to live a good spirit of the time. Still in Veracruz, while meandering by bus along the road from Xalapa to Teocelo, I was thinking of the Latin poet Ovidio and how he wrote that the gods turned the giants into a landscape, or more Mexicanly seen, when Quetzalcóatl decided to destroy them by opening abysses in the soils. That landscape leaves one speechless at its stone walls, so high and almost smooth. It is like being the tip of a finger that caresses time, and, above all, color: that powerful green in a transparent air, like that of the pints in the Jarocha cathedral. In my native Sinaloa I have only felt a place like this, on the coastal limit between the municipalities of Guasave and Ahome, where the mountains drowned in the sea in a dance of small bays and formidable islands. Before the legalization in Veracruz, in its cathedral a large canvas was placed against the sentence of the Court. In Culiacán I do not see something similar in its cathedral, which unlike the one in Xalapa, is barred. There is a form of dignified protest in which Xalapa does not erase the cordon of green hands. I thought about it a few days ago when I went in to say goodbye to that magnificent building. Inside there is buried a saint, San Rafael Guízar y Valencia; Never in all the times in several years that I have visited it have I found the chapel of said saint alone. An archbishop was recently buried next to him and there are still many flowers and some wreaths. Perhaps that is why and because of the proximity of the chapel to the doors of the cathedral, surrounded by a morning breeze, that when I visit San Rafael I find a butterfly. As I approach to touch the marble bed of the saint I feel once again how that stone is warmer than cold, it is not the nearby candles but the life that finds its way, like that of a butterfly with wings of red and white dots that releases his tongue in a spiral as musical as the sentence of the Supreme Court, although a little more that of the tongue of the butterfly, for being on the note of Fa.

Life always finds its way and builds it with beauty. Although ideas always change, life finds its course, like rivers to sea. In the purest idea that occurs to me about what justice is, I cannot help but find that Aristotle proposed it as that which allows us to preserve happiness, and it is about this that the between the lines of the sentence on the unconstitutionality of criminalizing justice seem musical to me. abortion, or the words of Minister Margarita Ríos-Farjat when she talks about how no one gets pregnant while exercising their autonomy and then aborts.

And although we still have a long way to go, I believe that this September Mexico is going a little further to build a more dignified future, more respectful towards women and their freedom of decision about their body, freedom over their life in a country in which they are undermined. so much against them. A small step even in this gray age in which, little or a lot, the evil of our time hits us all.

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