I’m at home, alone. Lately, I have been taking more time outdoors while at home to be nude. But only when I am alone at home. I don’t want to have my wife panic about me being seen by any of our neighbours or by the rare passerby who walks or cycles down the back lane. There is no question that I am a challenge for her. If it wasn’t for the love we share for each other, she would have run away screaming.
She has agreed to go with me to Green Haven in a few days. I am both thrilled by the possibility that things are shifting so that naturism becomes a “we” thing, and by the dread that the experience will be the opposite, that seeing me in a public setting with others not wearing clothing, would pull us apart.
So far at home, there has been acceptance until it all becomes too much, and then there is a pulling away on my part to make it easier and better for her and me. I make vows to restrict my nudity to behind the closed door of my office where I write. Our relationship is more important than anything else to me, even more important than breathing. As a result, there is a tension in the air for both of us.
I have to hold the tension, as the expression goes in Jungian psychology, in order to see what emerges on its own without being forced by the ego.