The Year of Christ...

Today, I turn thirty-three.

In numerology, 33 is a Master Number — often called the “Master Teacher” or the “Christic Master.” It represents universal love, compassion, altruism, and selfless service to humanity. Those who vibrate with this energy are believed to possess a profound ability to heal, teach, and guide others by example. Thirty-three marks the awakening of a period in which intellectual maturity meets spiritual responsibility

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Historically, 33 has carried a deep spiritual charge, symbolizing elevation and divine connection. It is no coincidence that, whenever this number is mentioned, one thinks of Jesus and his death — and his subsequent resurrection. And yet, perhaps the greatest lesson of this number is learning how to help others without exhausting oneself, without dissolving one’s own identity in the process.

I am not a religious person. I do not believe in religious institutions that dictate senseless rules. However, I do believe in higher forces that the human mind cannot explain, contain, or fully comprehend.

It is not coincidental that Christian tradition places the culmination of Jesus’s life at this very age: the moment of sacrifice, transmutation, and transcendence. History — or myth, which so often operates with the same force upon our psyche — has charged this age with the gravity of the definitive. It is the so-called “age of Christ.” Beyond liturgical devotion, theology invites us to look at that instant as the point of maximum tension between flesh and destiny. At thirty-three, the biography of Jesus reaches its absolute maturity: the moment when preparation ends and the individual surrenders to his culminating work, accepting the cost of his own transcendence. It is the forced transition from being in potential to being in action.

There is a sober elegance — and perhaps also a resounding fear — in accepting this maturity. It is not the beginning of decline — or is it? — but the blossoming of something internal. It is finally understanding that the people around me are aging, and that I am aging with them. It is noticing new wrinkles, new gray hairs, even eyes framed by small lines I never imagined I would have. I think reaching this age means understanding that time passes, and that there is nothing we can do to prevent it. So I begin this year with serenity, with gratitude for the life I am living — even if the passing of time still frightens me — and with the authorship of my own life.

But beyond all this discourse my mind has been busy constructing, I want to thank each one of you who reads me and makes it possible for this project to continue, and to stand as a reference for something different within Mexican fashion. Thank you for taking the time to read this far, and thank you for allowing me to appear in your inboxes.

And now, yes… time to cut the cake and blow out the candles.