It’s the noon hour and the boys are taking a rest before I take them to the swimming pool and recreation complex here in North Dakota. It’s only been a day and I am already tired. Of course, most of that is due to being in the car for twelve hours yesterday just to get here. It’s road construction and reconstruction season. With a bit of time to spare before we head out the door, I’m taking advantage of this free time to add to my “presence” here on my blog site. This is something that I am coming to see as important in a number of ways. If nothing, this time is private me time when my life gets filled to overflowing.
One of the things I realised thanks to some of my readers, is that my absence gets noticed. This place has become a shared space, not just my space. As I write and attempt to be transparent, others read and reflect on their own experiences and beliefs – you can find a lot of this in the comments to various posts. What I didn’t expect that others who don’t leave comments, talk with me via Twitter or other social media. One young naturist exclaimed that she was surprised to be getting to know me both inside and outside. The images are often the least important aspect as others get to see me as a human and not just as some disembodied talking head, or as just another older man sharing naked photos of himself.
Another thing about being here, is the sense of history about “self” that becomes established. This isn’t a diary. A diary is a private affair. Any blog site is crafted and curated. There is always the untold story that is held back. Sometimes it is censored and sometimes it is exhibitionist.
When I look back I often ask myself, “What the hell were you thinking about?” But more often than not, I wonder about so much left unsaid. Like any history book, I go back and go over the archives tossing the trivial, those posts which at the time gave my readers a better sense of me in the moment. Yet, in terms of the “present and future” a number of these posts simply become words in the way of the story of self unfolding as a naturist. So, I cull these posts, an act that acknowledges the reader’s needs for something worthwhile to read.