Lealtad: cara a los ojos del Perro y del Hijo del Hombre

Ke ondita mis keridos lectores. Tras larga ausencia, he vuelto de las tierras de mas alla de los mares...he vuelto y soy igual, aunque un poco diferente...he vuelto...
En esta ocasion kiero compartirles una historia de lealtad y fidelidad, muy admiradas en el lejano oriente. Esta es la historia de Hachiko el Akita, el perro ke conmovio a toda una nacion. Una historia verdadera.

El perro Akita de pelaje blanquecino, llamado Hachiko, nacio en noviembre de 1923, en la provincia que dio nombre a su raza. Pocos meses despues de su nacimiento, el pequeño "Hachi" como se le llego a llamar, fue llevado a la casa del profesor Eisaburo Uyeno, en Tokio. Rapidamente se hicieron amigos. Cada mañana, Hachiko acompañaba a su amo a la estacion de tren en Shibuya. Uyeno enseñaba en la Universidad Imperial, y Hachiko se habituo a ver a su amo partir. Cada tarde, Hachiko regresaba a la estacion de tren, y cuando Uyeno descendia del tren, siempre encontraba a su perro esperandole, agitando felizmente la cola al momento en que veia a su dueño y amigo.



El par continuó con su rutina diaria hasta mayo de 1925, cuando Uyeno no regreso en el tren de esa tarde. El profesor habia sufrido un infarto en la universidad aquel dia. Murio y jamas pudo regresar a la estacion de tren, donde su amigo lo estaba esperando.
Hachiko fue dado en adopcion tras la muerte de su amo, pero rutinariamente se escapaba, aparenciendo una y otra vez en su vieja casa. Despues de un tiempo, Hachi aparentemente se dio cuenta de que el profesor Uyeno ya no vivia en esa casa. Asi que fue a buscar a su amo a la estacion de tren, a donde lo habia acompañado tantas veces en el pasado. Cada dia, Hachiko esperaba a que Uyeno regresara. Y cada dia que pasaba, no veia a su amigo entre los transeuntes de la estacion.
La permanente presencia de Hachiko en la estacion de tren atrajo la atencion de otros usuarios. Muchos de los que frecuentaban la estacion de Shibuya habian visto a Hachi y al profesor Uyeno juntos cada dia. Dandose cuenta de que Hachiko esperaba en vigilia por su amo fallecido, sus corazones se conmovieron. Le llevaban bienes y comida a Hachiko para apoyarlo durante su espera.
La noticia de la remarcable lealtad de Hachiko eventualmente se esparcio fuera de Tokio, y se convirtio en una figura iconica en Japon. Una estatua de Hachiko forjada por el escultor Ando Teru fue eregida en la estacion Shibuya en 1934, donde Hachiko habia esperado el regreso de su amo cada dia por cerca de 10 años. Durante ese tiempo, el habia sufrido de varias enfermedades, los estragos callejeros y habia contraido gusanos del corazon. Y apesar de todas las dificultades que se le sumaban, el continuaba esperando a su amo...



El 8 de marzo de 1935, Hachiko se recosto para morir en el mismo punto donde habia pasado toda una decada esperando cada dia a que Uyeno regresara a casa. Sus huesos fueron enterrados junto a los de la tumba de su amo. El luto de su muerte fue llevado por toda la nacion.
La escritora y viajera Cheri Sicard escribio sobre un hombre que encontro un dia ante la estatua de Hachiko en la estacion de tren en Shibuya. "Durante mi ultima visita a la estatua de 'Hachi' me encontre con un anciano que pasaba para mostrar sus respetos. Me dijo en un ingles quebrado, 'Yo lo conoci. Solia traerle comida'...Despues se acerco a la estatua, le dio una palmadita amistosa, se limpio una lagrima de su ojo y lentamente se alejo"...

PARADOX! - Reloaded

Ke ondita mis keridos lectores. Los he traido a kienes les intereso saber la paradoja suprema: la paradoja ke humanamente prueba la imposibilidad de la existencia de un Dios. Me encanta! Tal como lo mencione en el post ke publike en el Hornito, hela aki, la Duodecima Paradoja Suprema:

Paradoja 12: Paradoja del Todopoderoso

Los que hayan leído el último libro de A. Paenza, habrán advertido una sección muy particular con “paradojas”. Una de estas demostraba que no podía existir un ser todopoderoso (DIOS). Lo mejor para el final. Esta, en medio de todas las paradojas habidas y por haber es mi favorita de todos los tiempos.

La demostración, más que simple (y por eso es ke me enkanta), afirma que si es todopoderoso (es decir que no le falta ningún poder) entonces tiene que tener el poder de crear una piedra que él no pueda mover, pero esto significaría que le falta el poder de mover esa roca, lo que lleva a un absurdo, una paradoja, una irrevocable y ciclica contradiccion inecuanime y enknatadoramente ESTUPENDA. Voila! Me enkanta, Finis!!

He dicho. Soy Batman!

"Ojos"

Cuando amas a alguien

y no tienes ojos para otra,

y tu olfato no percibe otro aroma más sutil que el suyo,

y tus oidos no se deleitan con otra voz mas que con la de ella,

y tus labios no se derriten por besar los de alguien que no sea ella,

y los poros de tu piel no se dilatan al contacto de otra piel, mas que la suya,

y tus manos no tiemblan y se enloquecen, sino cuando la tocas a ella,

y tus sentidos parecen despertar solo en su precensia...

entonces, es amor...

Para ti Lilly... Agosto 2008

That Love Story...

- If there is nothing I can do about it, and if there is no way to make you change your mind…-

And while saying this, he was looking onto her eyes, and saw no doubt of her choice, so he ended his words – like it appears not to be any chance, I just want you to do something, I need you to do it. I want you to get a little closer…

Her face got rude and turned out with confusion, and took a cold expression – Trust in me; you know I won’t do anything…

And suddenly she remembered back the first time he told her that phrase…a few years back, the first kiss of them. It was a sunny day of fall, watching the sunset at the park; he suddenly turned back in front of her, getting so close that they could’ve felt each other’s breath. And she felt nervous, and his body got rigid like a table, and her face was so tense that he noticed this, and it was then when, in a shy whisper he said to her “don’t be afraid, you can trust me, I won’t do anything…” and she was embarrassed because of that situation, and told him back “I’m not afraid of what you might do, but may because I may want you to do something…” and their faces were getting closer slowly, closer until the point of the fusion of their lips…

In was in that moment, with the sun falling back in the sea, that they kissed for the very first time, it was then, in that place, in that very moment, that these love of them birth, a few years back…

- Come on, trust me, and come closer…Look into my eyes, look into my eyes and tell me it ain’t worth. Tell me our love is over, and it ain’t worth fighting for.

- And then what? – She asked, - Are you going to tell me that is not what you feel, and beg me to think about it, like you always do?

He stayed in silence for a moment, thinking back of those moments, when he begged, when she also did, and the moment after that, when they just kissed and hugged, and left the last instant in the past, just like it never happened.

- No – he said at last – this time there will be no begs, this time nor you nor me will do it. This time is different…this time will be different – he said with emphasis.

- This time I want you to tell me it is over, and then I will leave. Leave it right there, leave you, and leave our love. I will let you live with out me once and for all, but tell me that’s what you really want. Look into my eyes and tell me so. And I will leave, that’s a promise.

Tell me you don’t love me any more, but do it while staring at me and you will never know of me again.

And a deadly silence fell between them. Until the time he spoke to her again.

- If there is nothing we can do, if there is nothing I can do, please help me. Help me to leave. Tell me you don’t love me and break my heart so hard that I might want to go away from you. If there is no love within your self for me, tell me.

By hearing this, she slowly turned his face down to the floor. So he took her face up with a hand, and asked her to tell him what he needed to hear.

- I need you to tell me if that’s what you feel now. I need your help. Help me to forget what you are, what I am with you. Help me to throw away this love, help me to let you go…help me. I can’t let you go just like this, help me. Break my heart at once; instead breaking it into little shards, every little time, do it now, do it with a single hit. Avoid my agony.

I need to see your lips moving and hear them saying that. And I will leave for ever…

She wanted to cry, her eyes broke like falling crystals, but not a tear was out of her eyes. She took a deep breath, and looked back to his eyes, those eyes she loved so much…even at that very moment.

And finally, she said what he was preying not to hear…

- I don’t love you…like I used to do, sorry.

But what he didn’t realized was the two little details that were making the difference…she never said she didn’t love him anymore, and he didn’t saw either that she closed her eyes by the moment she was talking. But the pain was so hard that he couldn’t see these little things. Those words just made a deadly wound, a deep wound that will never heal, not even through the years.

- I hope you never regret this… - he said in a whisper, with a weak, broken voice because of the pain his heart was holding by that moment.

- I won’t! – She shot, before even he closed his mouth.

- Good – claimed he – good, because from this very moment…it will be too late, and there’s no way back…I decided it to be this way. Turn back I will not, even when my self breaks and falls into pieces, I won’t turn back….

A that deadly silence fell between them once more, and it seemed that even the sun was suffering with him, as a rare and cold darkness appeared to steal the light of his eyes…until the bright of a single tear fell from his face.

- This…this is not the last tear I’ll share in your name, but will be the last you will ever see in your life. Now, good bye my love, good bye. Until never again…

And with a slight turn, he gave the back to her love, and with more pain in every step, he walked away, crossed the wide crystal door, and disappeared to her sight.

As promised, he didn't turned to see her dropping to her knees, drowning into a sea of tears. And through the tears in her eyes and the crystal door, she saw her love fade away...

So, if I were a movie writer this would totally be part of a super-wet-tissue-drama movie. What should be the end? Shall it be an endless story? Interesting...

dumb, wordless confession...

I have done something terrible. Yet I'm not ready to confess.
I have done something terrible, far beyond the ordinary. I planed it meticulously. I calculated it to the point of no admissible mistake. I though it with no errors. And I executed it to perfection. Everything have been planed. Every little and possible detail calculated with all its imaginable variants. Timing was perfect, flawless. Like the perfect crime. A clean, precise cut. No witnesses. Only me. Only the victim. Thè Ärchytèct ôf Käôz, they call me. Those who have suffered by my hand or my actions. Like the architect, I plan. Like the architect, I calculate, and get plans into actions. Actions done to perfection, always with the minimum mistake as goal.
Thè Ärchytèct ôf Käôz, they call me. The name fits me well. It suits me too well.
I have done something terrible, and I did it totally conscientious of the hows, the whats, and the consequences. Causality. I was looking after them.
Cause and consequence. I did it entirely willingly. I'm a monster. Yet it is not the worst I have done. And I know I can do much more. For I am a monstrous being. Yet I don't feel bad nor guilty. I am telling for I wanted to, not because I needed to confess.
I am a monstrous being.
I have done something terrible. Willingly. Yet I'm not ready to confess. And I may never want to...I am a monster...

A Boy's Tale...

There was once this kid, who had to leave his homeland. He was forced to leave, in some way. He left to go into a journey that led him far beyond the seas.
He went to a new land. Where the sun raised earlier, and the rain used to fall more often, and lasted longer. A land where he met loneliness at it's maximum expression. A place darker than outer space, despite the sunrise. A land where he found new friends to shine life with, to share joy with, to enjoy life with...yet, loneliness was there, deep inside him. Hiding in his doorway, always waiting the moment he closed the door to strike him as an arrow.
And his gaze became grey, like the sky in the rainy nights. Like haunted by the sorrow of all that he has left behind. But some times, in order to achieve our dreams we must let go of somethings, even what we want the most.
Even those we care the most.
How far one must go, it depends only on how bad we want that dream to become true. So he did. In a very special way, he was a monstrous creature. He gave up valuable things, just to achieve what he wanted the most. He would not let anything to stand between his dream an his path. Anything, nor anyone.
So he was there, alone and all on his own, in a new place yet he had friends. Good ones. Yet he felt some times alone. Missing those left behind, he some times sought company, and some times he merged in the crowd just to feel the human warmth else than his own. He sought to be with his friends, and their families; not because he felt part of them, but because the mere scent of family made him remember his own kind, his own people.
And that felt good. It was something he missed, and it hurt having to leave them. His family. His closest friends, friends not only of his own kind but from many species. They were all part of the same.
A family. His family.
But he would see them again. Time shall tell. But that was something he was sure of. But there was one above everyone else he missed the most. One whose name was forbidden to the wind. That one was like a paradox. The source of inspiration and despair.
Like hope. Hope is the quintessential human delusion, simultaneously the source of our greatest strength and our greatest weakness. And so was for him, even the slightest thought was lethal, and, at the same time, comforting.
And the kid, far from home, found that what matters in the end, is not what you have, nor where you belong, but what you really are. He came to this conclusion only after finding beneath his own self the courage and the will to do what he had to. The spells and charms, he knew them all, only the power to call them, to cast them was needed. And he found it. He became a hero. He became a story worth telling.
So he lived his life one day at the time, but always taking care of the future, thinking, planning. And of course, keeping in mind the past. For a man's path lies beyond tomorrow, but the background cannot be denied.
And the history became legend. And the legend became myth. But no one now lives to remember it.
His name? He has had many names. Ancient names only the wind and the trees can spell...

DE MI PASO POR ÉSTE MUNDO

DE MI PASO POR ÉSTE MUNDO

Autobiografía, Capítulo I

Éste es el recuerdo de una vida. Una vida poco común, de una persona poco común. Mi vida, mi historia. Mi nombre: los mortales me conocen como José Gustavo De la Cruz Herrera.

Mi relato comienza el día 25 de febrero de 1986, en alguna sala de parto en el hospital de Lomas de Chapultepec, en la delegación Miguel Hidalgo, allá en la Ciudad de México. En punto del cenit de aquel día, ingresaron a mi madre a la sala de parto, con contracciones que indicaban el advenimiento de mi ser a este mundo. Lo recuerdo vagamente, aunque con una claridad poco usual.

Ahí estaba yo, cómodamente suspendido en una piscina hecha a mi medida, mi pequeño y tibio mundo. Yo estaba plácidamente dormido, hasta que comencé a sentir cierta presión. Las contracciones. Yo no me quería ir de aquel utópico mundo, así que me resistí.

De repente, me empecé a sentir calientito y muy ligero. El eco de mis latidos resonaba en el interior de mi pequeña esfera, y una sensación extraña invadió mi diminuto sistema. Abrí mis ojos y me sorprendí al notar que de mi nariz salían algo así como patitas. Mi mano se doblaba vacilante al moverse y en los pies tenía un dedo extra. No sabía contar aún, pero sabía que habían más dedos que la última vez que me fijé. Estaba drogado. Una primera dosis de anestesia había sido administrada derectamente en el sistema nervioso de mi made, e inevitablemente una microdosis se filtró hasta mi sistema, repercutiendo en mi propio cuerpo y provocando mis peculiares alucinaciones.

Repentinamente perdí mi presencia de espíritu y al parecer quedé inconsciente, pues no recuerdo qué pasó después. Sólo recuerdo que en un instante, mi piscina se secó; y una cegadora luz penetraba mi barrera. Acto seguido empezaron los forcejeos, tirones y giros. Me estaban extrayendo. Algo gomoso me estaba sacando de mi santuario. El doctor a cargo, se dio a la tarea de “traerme al mundo”, con el lujo de ni si quiera preguntarme si era ése mi deseo. Abrí mis ojos para tratar de ver, pero la luz era demasiado intensa, demasiado blanca. Y yo no conocía la luz. Me sentí aturdido ante tanto ruido y los rumores de las enfermeras, y me colgaron boca abajo. Entonces volví a abrir los ojos y lo ví. Ahí estaba, con su gorrito y su traje azul. Ese hombre era el responsable de los últimos momentos de sufrimiento por los que acababa de pasar. Él y nadie más que él era culpable de haberme sacado de mi cómoda piscina. Lo miré fijamente, tratando de gesticular todo mi odio ante su espeso bigote.

Pero el “doc” no se inmutó, sino que me dió la vuelta y sin más preámbulo me dió mi primer nalgada.

Recién llegado al mundo y ya estaba yo llorando, sufriendo del maltrato y el abuso, y con un letrero que decía “Éste es tu nuevo mundo, bienvenido al primero del resto de tus días”. Aparentemente una enfermera se apiadó de mí y me arrebató de las manos de aquel hombre, y me envolvió en una manta. Cómoda, suave y tibia, pero nada comparado con el vientre materno. Y así, tras varias dosis de anestesia y al cabo de poco más de 17 horas de trabajo de parto, siendo la 1:22 de la madrugada del 26 de Febrero de 1986, yo, Gustavo, nací.