Every once in a while I try to cleanse my brain of all the rubbish that comes with a charged atmosphere. war crimesof violations, murders, political hatred, network nonsense and statements by some opinion leaders whose stupidity and sectarianism are humiliating. This morning, following having tea on a terrace under a spring sun, I decided to do a detoxification exercise, like other times. With all that dirty baggage in tow I have entered the Prado Museum by the door of Goya. On other visits, I usually spend a few hours concentrating on just a couple of masterpieces. This time I have chosen to cross the central gallery of the museum walking very slowly without turning my eyes towards the paintings hanging on the walls. My purpose was to perform a breathing exercise during that journey. Breathe in, breathe out, breathe in, breathe out slowly that air charged with energy that Tiziano, Velázquez, El Greco, Dürer, Bosch, Fra Angelico emit from different rooms. I have tried to make the exercise last long enough for that beauty to dislodge from my unconscious through the lungs all the dirt that was attached to it from the street sewer. Having carried out this first healing exercise, I left the museum through Murillo’s door to then enter the Botanical Garden located just a few steps away and there I have walked along its paths that fork between all kinds of plants and flowers and this time I have filled my lungs with the breeze that stirred the branches of the Constantinople acacia, the Atlas cedar, the rosewood, of the tree of love, of the red sequoia, of the elm of the Caucasus. The Prado Museum and the Botanical are complementary; both converge in a very exclusive vertex of the spirit. In my case, detoxification usually lasts at least a week. Then everything gets dirty once more.
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