Humo en ti (Hipnosis 2) || Smoke inside you (Hypnosis 2) #Chronos

Esta publicación de hoy lleva entre paréntesis el título de Hipnosis 2, porque en el vuelvo a tocar ese tema tan sensible como lo es la mente humana y las dudas de si es posible manipularla, sea de manera consciente o no...

A veces las experiencias son negativas y debemos aprender de ellas para que podamos aprovechar tales situaciones (Como me tocó en la publicación previa). Otras veces son positivas y también debemos analizarlas para poder tener la mayor visión posible de lo que somos, creemos que somos o queremos ser.

Today's post has in brackets the title of Hypnosis 2, because in it I return to touch that sensitive subject as it is the human mind and the doubts of whether it is possible to manipulate it, whether consciously or not ....

Sometimes experiences are negative and we must learn from them so that we can take advantage of such situations (as I did in the previous publication). Other times they are positive and we must also analyze them in order to have the best possible vision of what we are, what we believe we are or what we want to be.

The English version is further down.

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Dejar demasiada libertad a un niño puede tener efectos negativos. Yo tuve unos padres que, con base en esa confianza, me dieron plena libertad desde muy pequeño. Con la independencia que eso me brindaba, fue una fortuna que yo creciera en países socialistas, donde el nivel de delincuencia era casi nulo, al igual que los malos hábitos en la juventud, la cual se volcaba mayoritariamente a los deportes y los estudios.

Pero también es cierto que “todo niño inventa”…

Así fue como en Berlín, capital de la República Democrática Alemana, en 1970, mis vecinos y yo, todos cerca de los diez años de edad, escogimos como nuestro sitio de juego, la vieja Iglesia de San Miguel, muy cerca de donde vivíamos, a solo escasos metros del famoso muro que dividía la ciudad en dos. Lo que una vez fue sede de ritos religiosos tenía mucho tiempo siendo una evocación a la destrucción que crea la guerra y parte de ella eran ruinas. Por estar tan cerca de la frontera, allí no iba nadie, solo la policía que estaba en las cercanías y que nunca se ocuparon de nosotros.

Allí tuvimos momentos muy divertidos, jugando a las escondidas, jugando a policías y ladrones, a la guerra…

Pero también descubrimos una parte del jardín que posiblemente lo usaban los guardianes de la ley para ir a fumar y así debe haber sido por mucho tiempo, pues eran muchas las colillas que habían en ese espacio. Fue así como un día “surgió” el juego de buscar las colillas que estuvieran más completas. El salto desde ese punto a prender un cigarrillo y empezar a fumar, lo dimos casi enseguida (Claro, esto sin conocimiento ni consentimiento de mis padres).

No sé en qué momento aquello se convirtió en vicio, pero en Berlín al menos era muy difícil para los de mi edad, conseguirlos, pero una vez nos fuimos a vivir a la Unión Soviética, la venta allá no estaba limitada y allí fue donde se afianzó mi dependencia del tabaco.

Y no me conformaba con solo ser un fumador más, yo hacía alarde de ser “EL FUMADOR”. Así en mayúsculas, porque era capaz de cualquier cosa por conseguir cigarrillos a la hora que se acababan. Viviendo en Caracas expuse mi vida en muchas ocasiones al entrar en los barrios más peligrosos en horas de la madrugada, solo para poder comprar el vicio, cuando no habían más alternativas.

La negativa a intentar dejarlo era también reflejo de ese supuesto orgullo: “de algo se tiene que morir uno”, uno de los argumentos esgrimidos para justificar su continuidad.

Pero muy en el fondo, yo estaba consciente de todo y cuando decía que no lo quería dejar, era quizá por el temor a sentir que no iba a tener la fuerza para ello y antes de asumir un fracaso era más cómodo asumir esa postura.

Sí hubo algunos intentos por abandonar el cigarrillo, pero el cuerpo acostumbrado (o quizá debería decir la mente) me jugaba insólitas jugarretas, entre ellas está que me daban ataques de asma (sí, también he sido asmático), que solo se curaban inhalando el tóxico humo…

Yo siempre he sido muy apegado a “lo científico” y aunque siempre me han apasionado los temas de la mente, muchos de los asuntos relacionados con esta parte del ser humano, me sonaban muy “idealistas”, demasiado “teóricas”, muy poco “sustentables”. Y a pesar de yo mismo haber tenido una experiencia en la que mi mente fue manipulada, era reacio a creer en hipnosis o sugestionamiento.

Por esa misma razón, la propuesta de mi sobrino Vadim para ir a una sesión de hipnosis para dejar de fumar, no era algo con muchas perspectivas. Él, mucho menor que yo y con un vicio mucho más ligero que el mío, quería dejar de manera definitiva ese absurdo vicio, que además de ser un gasto considerable y dejarle a uno un mal olor permanente, afectaba la salud de manera clara y evidente.

Uno de los más famosos especialistas en esa terapia y particularmente destacado en dejar de fumar, Kenneth Grossman, venía a Venezuela. Mi sobrino me llamó —Tío, yo no quiero ir solo. ¡Yo pago tu cupo con tal de que me acompañes!

Accedí y nos presentamos en el Hotel Tamanaco de Caracas, donde se llevaría a cabo la sesión.

Al ver las dimensiones del lugar y la cantidad de sillas habilitadas, lo primero de una mente suspicaz es calcular el costo de la inscripción y multiplicarlo por el número de asistentes, lo cual ya le da un tono mercantilista a toda la situación. Más aún, en la limitada imaginación mía no cabía la posibilidad de que allí se apareciera el mago con su turbante azul y con una medallita en la mano y nos hipnotizara a uno por uno.

Aquella actividad estaba dividida en dos partes, primero una charla y luego la “sesión”. El inicio fue la clásica explicación de los daños a la salud, la economía personal y todas aquellas historias tantas veces contadas y leídas en infinidad de textos. Al final de esa parte, nos pidieron salir a fumar a los espacios externos. Pero no solo a fumar, sino a fumar todo lo que pudiéramos en el menor tiempo posible y que los que fumábamos cigarrillos con filtro, se los quitáramos.

Así hicimos todos y durante ese receso pudimos conversar con otras personas y así acrecentar las dudas que teníamos respecto a qué esperar.

Kenneth no habla bien español, así que para expresarse claramente usa los servicios de una intérprete de cabina, lo cual hace la comunicación más fría aún. Pero es particularmente en esta segunda fase donde percibes eso, porque mientras él le da un tono grave a su voz y se sumerge en el personaje, la traductora se limita a traducir, sin el aire majestuoso de quien está penetrando en tu mente.

Pero no vamos a renunciar antes de tiempo, así que de manera razonable decidimos seguir “el juego”. —¡Ahora cierren sus ojos e imaginen un campo verde!— y obedientemente cerramos nuestro ojos y nos dejamos llevar por las mecánicas instrucciones que nos da la voz casi robótica de la intérprete.

Así transcurrieron unos minutos. Al finalizar, el hipnotizador se dirige a los presentes —¿Quién de ustedes piensa que la sesión tuvo una duración de menos de cinco minutos? ¡Por favor, levanten la mano!

Para mi sorpresa hubo algunos asistentes que la levantaron. Mi sobrino y yo nos miramos con cara de extrañeza, pues el tiempo habían sido como 20 minutos.

Pero no se detuvo allí y volvió a preguntar —¿Quiénes piensan que fueron entre 10 y 20 minutos?— y así sucesivamente en lapsos mayores, hasta llegar a una hora. En cada oportunidad había participantes que apoyaban las distintas duraciones.

Al final quedó en evidencia que habían sido 45 minutos, lo cual me parecí absurdamente exagerado, pero realmente era lo que el reloj indicaba y eso lo dejaba a uno con una extraña sensación.

Posiblemente, si no hubieran hecho esa pregunta, uno sale con la plena convicción de que aquello no fue más que una escenificación teatral. Pero mientras nos despedimos de los distintos participantes, buscamos el carro en el estacionamiento y nos sentamos en él, ya había pasado al menos media hora y me comenta Vadim —¡Lo que sí es cierto es que todavía no me ha provocado fumar!

No hubo turbantes azules, ni medallones balanceándose, no hubo una voz profunda que te decía pausadamente “sientes los ojos pesados”. Pero aún así, alguien logró entrar en nuestras mentes y cambiar un patrón; una idea fue sembrada en nuestro inconsciente y se convirtió en parte nuestra; un hábito que se inició 35 años antes en mí, quedó erradicado de mi vida y lo puedo afirmar con certeza quince años después de aquel día de magia.

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English version

Allowing a child too much freedom can have negative effects. I had parents who, based on that trust, gave me full freedom from a very young age. With the independence that this gave me, it was fortunate that I grew up in socialist countries, where the level of delinquency was almost nil, as were the bad habits of the youth, who were mostly involved in sports and studies.

But it is also true that "every child can get naughty"...

So it was that in Berlin, capital of the German Democratic Republic, in 1970, my neighbors and I, all about ten years old, chose as our playground, the old St. Michael's Church, very close to where we lived, just a few meters from the famous wall that divided the city in two. What was once the site of religious rites had long been an evocation of the destruction created by war and there were part in ruins there. Being so close to the border, no one went there, only the police who were in the vicinity and who never took care of us.

There we had very funny moments, playing hide and seek, playing cops and robbers, war....

But we also discovered a part of the garden that was possibly used by the guards of the law to smoke and it must have been like that for a long time, because there were many cigarette butts in that space. It was thus that one day the game of looking for the butts that were more complete "arose". The leap from that point to light a cigarette and start smoking, we took almost immediately (Of course, this was without my parents' knowledge or consent.).

I don't know at what point it became a vice, but in Berlin at least it was very difficult for those of my age to get them, but once we went to live in the Soviet Union, the sale there was not limited and it was there that my dependence on tobacco took hold.

And I was not satisfied with being just another smoker, I boasted of being "THE SMOKER". That way in capital letters, because I was capable of anything to get cigarettes when they ran out. Living in Caracas I exposed my life on many occasions by entering the most dangerous neighborhoods in the early hours of the morning, just to be able to buy the vice, when there were no other alternatives.

The refusal to try to quit was also a reflection of that supposed pride: "one has to die of something", one of the arguments used to justify its continuity.

But deep down, I was aware of everything and when I said that I did not want to quit, it was perhaps because of the fear of feeling that I would not have the strength to do so and before assuming failure, it was more comfortable to assume that position.

There were some attempts to quit smoking, but my body (or maybe I should say my mind) played unusual tricks on me, among them I had asthma attacks (yes, I have also been asthmatic), which could only be cured by inhaling the toxic smoke....

I have always been very attached to "the scientific" and although I have always been passionate about the topics of the mind, many of the issues related to this part of the human being, sounded to me very "idealistic", too "theoretical", very little "sustainable". And despite having had an experience myself in which my mind was manipulated, I was reluctant to believe in hypnosis or suggestion.

For that same reason, the proposal of my nephew Vadim to go to a hypnosis session to quit smoking, was not something with many prospects. He, much younger than me and with a much lighter vice than mine, wanted to quit for good that absurd vice, which besides being a considerable expense and leaving a permanent bad smell, affected the health in a clear and evident way.

One of the most famous specialists in that therapy and particularly outstanding in smoking cessation, Kenneth Grossman, was coming to Venezuela. My nephew called me: "Uncle, I don't want to go alone, I'll pay your fee as long as you come with me!"

I agreed and we went to the Tamanaco Hotel in Caracas, where the session would take place.

Upon seeing the dimensions of the place and the number of chairs available, the first thing a suspicious mind would do is to calculate the cost of registration and multiply it by the number of attendees, which already gives a mercantilist tone to the whole situation. Moreover, in my limited imagination there was no way that the magician would appear there with his blue turban and a medal in his hand and hypnotize us one by one.

That activity was divided into two parts, first a talk and then the "session". The beginning was the classic explanation of the damage to health, personal economy and all those stories so many times told and read in countless texts. At the end of that part, we were asked to go outside to smoke. But not only to smoke, but to smoke as much as we could in the shortest time possible and that those of us who smoked cigarettes with filters should take them out.

So we all did, and during that break we were able to talk with other people and thus increase the doubts we had about what to expect.

Kenneth does not speak Spanish well, so to express himself clearly he uses the services of a cabin interpreter, which makes communication even colder. But it is particularly in this second phase where you perceive that, because while he gives a low tone to his voice and immerses himself in the character, the translator just translates, without the majestic air of someone who is penetrating your mind.

But we are not going to give up prematurely, so we reasonably decide to play along. -"Now close your eyes and imagine a green field!" and we obediently close our eyes and let ourselves be carried away by the mechanical instructions given to us by the almost robotic voice of the interpreter.

A few minutes passed in this way. At the end, the hypnotist turns to tFor that same reason, the proposal of my nephew Vadim to go to a hypnosis session to quit smoking, was not something with many prospects. He, much younger than me and with a much lighter vice than mine, wanted to quit for good that absurd vice, which besides being a considerable expense and leaving a permanent bad smell, affected the health in a clear and evident way.

One of the most famous specialists in that therapy and particularly outstanding in smoking cessation, Kenneth Grossman, was coming to Venezuela. My nephew called me: "Uncle, I don't want to go alone, I'll pay your fee as long as you come with me!"

I agreed and we went to the Tamanaco Hotel in Caracas, where the session would take place.

Upon seeing the dimensions of the place and the number of chairs available, the first thing a suspicious mind would do is to calculate the cost of registration and multiply it by the number of attendees, which already gives a mercantilist tone to the whole situation. Moreover, in my limited imagination there was no way that the magician would appear there with his blue turban and a medal in his hand and hypnotize us one by one.

That activity was divided into two parts, first a talk and then the "session". The beginning was the classic explanation of the damage to health, personal economy and all those stories so many times told and read in countless texts. At the end of that part, we were asked to go outside to smoke. But not only to smoke, but to smoke as much as we could in the shortest time possible and that those of us who smoked cigarettes with filters should take them out.

So we all did, and during that break we were able to talk with other people and thus increase the doubts we had about what to expect.

Kenneth does not speak Spanish well, so to express himself clearly he uses the services of a cabin interpreter, which makes communication even colder. But it is particularly in this second phase where you perceive that, because while he gives a low tone to his voice and immerses himself in the character, the translator just translates, without the majestic air of someone who is penetrating your mind.

But we are not going to give up prematurely, so we reasonably decide to play along. -"Now close your eyes and imagine a green field!" and we obediently close our eyes and let ourselves be carried away by the mechanical instructions given to us by the almost robotic voice of the interpreter.

A few minutes passed in this way. At the end, the hypnotist turns to those present, "Who among you thinks that the session lasted less than five minutes? Please raise your hand!

To my surprise there were a few attendees who raised their hands. My nephew and I looked at each other with a puzzled look on our faces, as the time had been about 20 minutes.

But he didn't stop there and asked again, "Who thinks it was between 10 and 20 minutes," and so on for longer periods of time, up to an hour. At every opportunity there were participants who supported the different durations.

At the end it was clear that it had been 45 minutes, which seemed to me absurdly exaggerated, but it was really what the clock indicated and that left one with a strange feeling.

Possibly, if they had not asked that question, one leaves with the full conviction that it was nothing more than a theatrical staging.But as we said goodbye to the various participants, looked for the car in the parking lot and sat down in it, at least half an hour had already passed and Vadim commented to me, "What is certain is that I haven't felt like smoking yet!

There were no blue turbans, no swaying medallions, no deep voice telling you slowly "you feel your eyes heavy". But still, someone managed to enter our minds and change a pattern; an idea was planted in our unconscious and became part of us; a habit that started 35 years earlier in me, was eradicated from my life and I can state it with certainty fifteen years after that day of magic. hose present, "Who among you thinks that the session lasted less than five minutes? Please raise your hand!

To my surprise there were a few attendees who raised their hands. My nephew and I looked at each other with a puzzled look on our faces, as the time had been about 20 minutes.

But he didn't stop there and asked again, "Who thinks it was between 10 and 20 minutes," and so on for longer periods of time, up to an hour. At every opportunity there were participants who supported the different durations.

At the end it was clear that it had been 45 minutes, which seemed to me absurdly exaggerated, but it was really what the clock indicated and that left one with a strange feeling.

Possibly, if they had not asked that question, one leaves with the full conviction that it was nothing more than a theatrical staging.But as we said goodbye to the various participants, looked for the car in the parking lot and sat down in it, at least half an hour had already passed and Vadim commented to me, "What is certain is that I haven't felt like smoking yet!

There were no blue turbans, no swaying medallions, no deep voice telling you slowly "you feel your eyes heavy". But still, someone managed to enter our minds and change a pattern; an idea was planted in our unconscious and became part of us; a habit that started 35 years earlier in me, was eradicated from my life and I can state it with certainty fifteen years after that day of magic.


Fuente de las imágenes || Image sources [1] | [2] | [3]


Crónicas previas // Previous Chronicles
Fragilidad mental (Hipnósis 1) / Mental fragilty (Hypnosis 1) (17)
El falso dueño / The fake owner (16)
La mujer de mis sueños / the woman of my dreams (15)
Un evento teatral, un vuelo y París (Addendum) / A theatrical event, a flight and Paris (Addendum) (14)
Un evento teatral, un vuelo y París (3/3) / A theatrical event, a flight and Paris (3/3) (13)
Un evento teatral, un vuelo y París (2/3) / A theatrical event, a flight and Paris (2/3) (12)
Un evento teatral, un vuelo y París (1/3) / A theatrical event, a flight and Paris (1/3) (11)
El primer beso y las olimpíadas del amor / First kiss and the Olympic games of love (10)
Queso y vidrio: dos polos / Cheese and glass: two poles (9)
Stress laboral y una fiesta familiar / Work stress and a family party (8)
Un baile frenético / A frenetic dance (7)
Un combate berlinés / A Berliner fight #Chronos (6)
Magia en la poesía / Magic in Poetry (5)
Aprender ruso en Caracas / Learning Russian in Caracas (4)
El precio de tus recuerdos / The price of your memories (3)
Teatro, viajes y un nombre / Theater, trips and a name (2)
Catia y el azul / Catia and the blue (1)

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Este texto pertenece a mi serie #Chronos. Puedes leer más sobre la misma en Mis crónicas literarias. Si es de tu agrado este estilo y quieres sumarte a la creación de crónicas literarias, te invito a usar la etiqueta #chronos para la misma.

This writing is part of my series #Chronos. You can read more about it on My literary chronicles. If you like this style and want to join the creation of literary chronicles, I invite you to use the hashtag #chronos for it.


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