Through a Naturist Lens

I have now finished Chapter 4 of my current work in progress, the story of aliens who are trying to to help save planet Earth. Also keeping me busy are two types of Twitter users whom I am busy in blocking. I have no need to see or hear from “haters” and “porn hounds.” I find it strange that Twitter suggests that all those whom I block are registered as those who have unfollowed me.

However, I could care less about follower numbers. I have more than my fair share of people I follow who are naturists, centrists, and authors. I don’t think for a moment that those I block from following me are going to be better people who will try to make a positive difference in the lives of fellow humans. I just don’t need them in my on-line life.

In spite of my good intentions, I continue to find myself checking out Twitter, hoping that some positive flow of information. Despite my purging so many negative voices, there continues to be a flood of hate messages. Politics and politicians are at the centre of the the conversation with naturism only appearing at the fringes, mostly with like-minded individuals offering small messages encouraging each other to stay strong and to stay naked. As a result, I have decided to simply sit still and listen. It’s not the time for me to weigh in on very important psychological considerations.

That said, it’s time for my to turn back to my work in progress.

Disequilibrium. It’s a thing. With so many certainties in life now in question, all of us are is some sort of free fall, whether we realise it or not. The first big shock to our system, our psyche, was the appearance of Covid19. In early January of 2020, my wife and I made our typical winter getaway to a warm, tropical climate almost on the equator. The first hints of Covid19 in the news seemed to be just another item on the constantly changing news cycles.

Sun, warmth, surf and sand filled our days, I took advantage of the opportunities that presented themselves to experience more seaside and casa nudity than usual. Little did either of us know that we wouldn’t be able to stay for our full three months, that we would be facing lockdowns, stay-in-place orders that would deny us access to the beach, curfews, and the need to be repatriated to our home country. Covid19 shook us more than the strong earthquakes which rocked our casa the previous winter in Ecuador.

Back home, a two-week quarantine followed by strict social distancing became both a trial and a blessing. Being nude in my home and backyard and on little-used country trails increased from the previous norm. Reports from the outside world told me that home nudity was increasing and that memberships in various naturist organisations were increasing.

However, social nudity was close to non-existent, at least for those whom I knew. Social distancing was still in effect. I didn’t have to worry about unexpected visitors appearing in the house while I had abandoned clothing. My nudity became more and more normal. It became a summer with more naturist hikes than I had previously experienced.

And then the USA election happened. The politics in my home country reverberated with the same tensions that split America in half. The extreme right gathered more into their fold. The longer Covid19 went on, the more people began to buy into the conspiracy theories. And almost at the same time, the second wave of Covid19 began to sweep through the world.

Anti-vaxxers, anti-maskers, anti-government, anti-diversity, anti everything that wasn’t the domain of the white, Christian, right wing world took centre stage. The stewing of this toxic presence erupted ten days ago with a real assault on democracy in the name of “freedom.” The assault is far from over. The freedom in question, is the freedom to be oppressive, spewing messages of hate, and denying any but the chosen their rights, their personal freedoms.

Put together, these two elements appearing at the same time were more than enough to turn the world upside down. Now, we have a new wave of disruption occurring at the level of individuals. Dialogue has been replaced with disengaged monologue, or with unreasoned verbal assaults. At the same time we see the dark side of individuals displayed, voices that fill social media in hopes of silencing those who remain hopeful and speak their truths. Social platforms are suspending accounts for sometimes what amounts to trying to appease the angry voices who have gained ascendency. And yet?

There is another side of the scale that is trying to right the balance. From a naturist point of view, I am talking about people who remain standing [or sitting in quiet meditation] who are more sure of themselves, their self-identity, and what is important. And, we have remained hopeful.

And that is the key. Spring will appear following the cold and darkness of winter. Summer will follow the spring. What is now will fade into “what was.” As long as we continue to stand in hope, we will keep our sanity and avoid being dragged into darkness and the mob that embraces all that is negative and hate.

Be the light. Hold your candle of hope, high. Know that as long as you believe in yourself, despite what happens, you will remain free. Viktor Frankl proved this as he survived three years in a Nazi concentration camp, surviving while others around him were swallowed by the angry maw of those dark times. Mind over matter.

The sky looks gloomy. Rather, I should say that I feel a sense of gloominess when looking at the overcast sky. Words matter. I talked about that yesterday. Listening to the news, reading the endless stream of Tweets and posts on social media suggests that the sun has become absent in most places on planet Earth. It makes a person want to load up all the bots and trolls and dump them into the trash bin.

It didn’t take me long to say “Enough is enough” and switch gears. As a writer, that is one of my strengths, changing channels. As many of my readers know, I have multiple writing projects on the go at one time. Well, I have just added a new project, a hardcover storybook for my granddaughter who will be turning four in six weeks.

For the past few days, I have been going through my photo archives to include in the story book. Now with the photos chosen, I did a test run with using 65 lb paper to serve as the pages. I set the document on landscape with two columns. Then, using the first two photos that will begin the story, which I placed in opposite columns, I added story text and then did a test printout of that page. It worked well. I will prepare the rest of the story the same way. Then, I will glue the pages together to form thicker pages, just right for a four-year old’s hands. It has been a good beginning.

Then my poor attention span has me once again returning to social media in hopes of seeing some sunlight, the visible proof that people are becoming more aware of the collective shadow that is gnawing away at our humanity. Well, that didn’t last long. Humanity is in trouble. I think of a drug addict and know that there is no hope to change the channel until our modern world has hit rock bottom. There is no room for dialogue when no one cares to listen, really listen to the voices of others. Still, I add in my voice pleading others to embrace kindness and compassion. I end up preaching to the choir and having the others rail. Again, enough is enough.

Next, I turned to a naturist story that is in process. So far, 7,000 words have been written. The story follows a group of six aliens, a heterosexual couple, a lesbian couple, and two brothers who have been living on the planet Earth for eight years. The group gets recalled to an outpost base on the moon from where they are to travel to Europa for another project. Naturally, things will get in the way. In their natural state they are always nude with only lanyards and armbands to serve as symbols of office and rank. I would like to present you with a snippet of the story where the six are on a shuttle from the Earth to a lunar base. Two “cadets” are curious about the six who are famous in their own right.

~

“My name is Bets and this is Les. We are more than honoured to meet the six of you. And yes, the six of you are famous. We’ve all heard of your stories. You and your work is part of the course work at the lunar university for Earth Studies.”

Jori moved gracefully as she floated closer to Bets and Les and said, “Join us for a meal. I hear the meal packages have improved since the last time we were on a shuttle.”

Everyone laughed. Shuttle food was designed for nutrition, not for taste or texture. One chose a meal with little hope that the name would match the contents. Paste was paste. Spices could only do so much. The squeeze bottles of liquid were much more preferable, especially alcoholic beverages.

It didn’t take long for the eight of them to feel comfortable with their new acquaintances. Maddie told the young cadets about music and fashion.

“Do humans actually buy into the need to constantly change the style of their clothing?” asked Les.

“Yes, they do. One set of clothes barely gets used before they think they need a more modern set of outfits. It’s irrational, and economically and environmentally wasteful. But for the women, a positive self image is intimately tied to having the latest colours and styles of clothing as dictated by the fashion industry, even if they are ugly and uncomfortable.”

“That sounds so sad.”

~

There, the sun is peeking out and my mood shifts as a smile appears.

It is early morning, very early. There are lights in the window across the street from the lodging of a man who is older than myself. Lights on are no guarantee that he is awake. I turned on my strings of red lights to counteract the darkness that marks the early morning hours of winter on the Canadian prairies.

Despite the sad state of the world at this point in time, I had a good sleep. Getting a good sleep is nothing to be sneezed at. I have too often woke up in the morning more tired than when I went to bed because sleep was a hit and miss affair throughout the night hours. I don’t take naps during the day and not because of some sort of guilt or resistance. I have tried, but when the sun is up, even when it is overcast, my body refuses the offered opportunities.

At least I am naked, whether I am tired, listless. I did a quick Google search and found this: “Are you tired, so tired of everything about the world and the way it is? Do you proclaim this, with a long, slow sigh, to everyone around you? You’ve got ennui.” Despite what the English language dictionaries want to tell us, ennui isn’t just about boredom. It’s a French word with a broader definition, one that the above quote comes close to recognising.

I am tired with regards to Covid19. I am tired with the BS of Canadian politics that wants to drag people into divisiveness and hate of others who are different. I am tired of the war of words that erupts into violence all over the world. I am tired of those who are so invested in protecting their wallets that they have no time to protect the world and fellow humans. That tiredness isn’t about boredom, not in the least.

That tiredness is more about the scope and breadth of the issues that are raging all over the modern world, and one’s inability to make much of a difference. I watch as extended family and acquaintances horde and scapegoat women, people of colour, the homeless, basically anyone who might shame them into doing the right thing. And the feeling that emerges isn’t boredom. The English language doesn’t really have a word for this. So, as a French-Canadian, I accept the non-English concept of ennui to describe how I feel.

Language is a problem in communication. I learned the concept of “negotiated” meaning when I began work on my Master’s program thirty years ago. Though we share the same language, perhaps with both sides limited to that one language, we can’t assume that the words spoken or written are heard/read in a manner that has both share the same understanding. It the world of social media, there is a tendency to have sound bites without careful dialogue to sort out the meaning and intent of the words used. And then, we wonder why others get angry at our words which were never intended to inspire anger.

Words are powerful. Words incite. Words tame. Words attack. Words confuse. Words embrace … When we speak and write, we have an intention, we assume that others can infer our intended message from the words we use. In the world of social media, the face-to-face component of communication exacerbates the problem. Missing are the barely perceptible body cues that add meaning to words, sometimes contradicting the words themselves. Even silences have communicated meaning that need to be decoded via negotiation.

Left to our own inner dialogues that have almost everything to do with our unique life experiences, as well as our unconscious complexes, we create meaning based on “self.”

“This is what I heard her say” is followed up with a personal take that rarely has anything to do with the intended message. And the war is on where neither side can “hear” the words of the “other.” Lines are drawn in the sand leaving both parties convinced of the “wrongness” of the other person in the “conversation.”

And once that happens, it is so hard, often too hard, to step back and ask legitimate questions to clarify what was meant with the original statement. For that to happen, both sides have to be willing to let go of what they hold as self-evident truths. Without that, there is no “dialogue” where both parties through negotiation arrive at a mutual understanding. It’s a lot of work. It’s easier to retreat into conflict knowing that you are right and that the other is wrong, that you have “god on your side.”

So now, we find ourselves as individuals, shaken to the core by the recent events in the USA and by the Covid19 pandemic. Where and how, do we dare to engage with each other to negotiate peace? It begins with listening and asking authentic questions, laying aside assumptions. There is no other way.

Well, that happened! Our world has just flexed its shadow and all is not well in the world. We now have the dark twins, Covid19 and the terrorizing right wing extremists running rampant in the world. No political landscape is escaping the pressure of the right wing which appears intent on collapsing all democratic governments in the world. With the real threat from Covid19, the right wing is able to escalate and draw more and more people under their umbrella. Covid19 is bad enough on its own.

I don’t want to talk about the USA, Canada, the UK, France, or any other country experiencing the toxicity of the upswelling of hate and fear that is being stoked by the right wing. Rather, I want to talk about individuals, and naturists in particular. After all, each of us needs to start there. The changes and the personal responses cause ripples in the fabric, the psychological and sociological fabric of the world. Perhaps, more importantly, individual change – defiance, resilience, and compassion – allows us to stay sane. We dare not give up hope. We dare not embrace the shadows or we become lost in those shadows, indistinguishable from those shadows. We become the enemy.

So, how can we do this? I can’t give you all of the answers. The truth is, we each have to find our own way forward. However, I can say what I am doing, and some of what others are doing to keep the light from being extinguished. The first thing for me to do was to draw my personal line in the sand. I am a naturist. I am a writer. I am a valid human. I am valued precisely because I am authentic, an authenticity that refuses to give up smiling and loving others.

I reject hate. However, in doing all of this, I remain fully aware that hate, evil, racism, misogyny, and every other denial of humanity continues to exist. I refuse to remain silent in the face of these faces of the personal and collective shadow. Darkness only knows one thing – destruction.

Others in the world of naturism are facing the same threats. We even find those threats coming from within the community of naturists in the social media. Being nude doesn’t mean one isn’t embracing the right wing. There are haters, misogynists, porn-hounds, racists, homophobes, yellow-vesters, Patriots, Proud Boys, etc., in the naturist community. And, they are not remaining silent. The dialogue which had been polite, has begun to display toxicity. 

Like others in the naturist community, it is enough to be a beacon of light for those faces to come streaming in, intruding on one’s space and wreaking damage along the way. Yet, like Emma, enough in the community are standing up and saying “No, we will not be silenced! No, we will not be drawn into the darkness. No, we will not cower. We are strong within ourselves. We are stronger within our shared corners of social media despite the dark sides of social media.

Yet, there are those who have become quiet though they refuse to give up. Their quietness isn’t silence. Their silence isn’t defeat. In truth, their silence is about survival. The noisy voices, the angry birds who poison the air are more than willing to fill up every corner and space in social media. For those of us who dare to confront that silence, some of that space in social media can be claimed as ours.

It truly is a time to pick sides, even if one does so in silence.

I find myself, every once in a while making concessions to the fact that it is winter time here on the Canadian prairies. The first concession was to give up free-hiking and put on a few layers of clothing to continue walking. Thus girded against the weather, I have been able to maintain daily walking. Then, when the wind blows while temperatures are below freezing, I make another concession and forgo the countryside for walks around town so as to take advantage of windbreaks. A third concession happens when the sun is hidden behind clouds and the winds are blowing, and I am inside. The concession has me don a sweater or shirt to fight off the chill. And no, turning the thermostat to a warmer setting is not an option. The house temperature remains at 19 Celsius. Yes, I am a stubborn old man, as well as a hardy Canadian.

It’s Ukrainian Christmas Eve. Of course, that means we will have one or more Ukrainian traditional foods on our table this evening. And no, I’m not Ukrainian. However, let’s not have that get in the way of some delicious food. And another thing, I’m not exactly what anyone would call a foodie. All of this is just an aside as a way of finding an excuse to write up a post. Don’t get me wrong, I’m a great fan of food and Ukrainian food is high on the list of my favourites [along with French, Mexican, Chinese, Greek, Italian, Spanish, Thai, Vietnamese, etc.] As with all of our meals, especially those marking special occasions, I dress up for dinner [and lunch and breakfast]. In our home, clothing is de rigueur when seated for a meal.

Okay, so much for food, it’s almost lunch time and I still have things that I need to get done, one of them being this post. I have recently put a novella up on Amazon for pre-order. It tells the tale of a man from northern France who fought alongside of William the Conqueror at Hastings in 1066 while a young man. The tale follows that man as he eventually fights alongside of King William’s eldest son, Robert, in the first Crusade. Scattered here and there in the story are a couple of Celtic deities who have a vested interest in this knight from Picardy.

The book is called A Journey Through Time: The Crusade of Princes. It is the second in a series of tales that will span a thousand years of history. The only constant presence throughout the books written and yet to be written will be the Celtic Deities. Humans don’t live long enough, And left to their own devices, humans have a tendency to be slightly boring as far as telling historical tales is concerned. If you click on the link here, you will be taken to the Amazon page where you can order your copy.

The first book in the series is called A Journey Through Time: A Tale of Two Vikings, a story that happens a hundred years prior to the second book. Each of the books in the series will be able to be read as stand-alone books. Each book has different characters involved in different historical events. Book three has been begun. It will tell the tale of a French family in Scotland during the rise of the Templars in Europe. And yes, the Celtic deities [who have this tendency to be nude] will be the link between books. I guess that this means the books are historical fiction and speculative fiction at the same time.

However, all that is now put to the side as I format the second book in the “In the Nudist Colony” series. The book is called Romance in the Nudist Colony. No links are yet available for the print or the eBook versions of the anthology of short stories. I will have more to say about that project in February. Unlike the first anthology, I don’t have a short story of my own in the book. Why? It was a matter of time.

I had commitments to my NaNoWriMo story. The book is with my editor at this time and hopefully will be published in the not-too-distant future. Will I write in the third anthology? It all depends on a variety of factors including will there be a third anthology. I don’t want to count any chickens before they hatch, as the expression goes.

We all have high hopes for 2021. I know that I, like many others, was smiling with determination, wine glass in hand in defiance that this year was going to be better than 2020. The only resolution that came to mind, was the realisation that if there was to be a positive change, it had to begin with me. If left to it’s own devices with me sitting on the side lines, the view into the new year doesn’t look too appealing. So, what can I do about it? Well, to be honest, not much other than to own my stuff, to take responsibility for my inaction and actions. Unconsciously, this began yesterday when I posted a “fun” piece.

I had fun. I took a fun image and I engaged with naturists who also took the challenge to have fun. That was the first step. Then, in the afternoon, I returned to work on a naturist story. Well, at least the main characters prefer not wearing clothes. These characters are actually aliens on Earth when the story begins. I know that they will find themselves off planet in short order, and that is about it.

I contacted my eldest grandson and asked if I could name the main characters after him and his girlfriend with the understanding that these characters would mostly be nude. The two of them agreed and I quickly did “search and replace” to substitute the new names while I did a quick edit of the first 6500 words. This is going to be fun for me, a change from the focus on non-naturist fiction that I focused upon for the past three or four months.

This was a first for me, risking a highly positive grandfather-grandson relationship. Likely, there was nothing really at risk other than in my head. I had to face my fear head on. Perhaps, this is something we all need to do, sooner rather than later, when it comes to owning our naturist/nudist persona in the world.

We all have those negative nay-sayer voices in our heads, voices that act as censors. Our fears imprison us and leave us feeling helpless as we watch small opportunities for naturism slip away. Most often, no one has a clue about our desires/needs for being clothing free. And the truth is, most of the planet could care less as they all have their own issues to deal with.

It is in the small things that each of us can begin to live more authentically. For example, you share a living space with someone. Be honest about your desire/need for nudity. It is a conversation that needs to happen. You might be surprised at the response to that honest sharing. If the response is positive, you test boundaries. If the response is negative, you claim your space to be lived your way. In shared areas, wear a housecoat or wrap or whatever. The choice of cover-up tells others that you are naked beneath the material, and that you are honouring their need not to be confronted with that fact.

However, there are other things at play in all of this, especially the need people have to control. The only one a person can control should be themselves. Using power to force a situation, either pro or anti naturism is just plain wrong, and it needs to be dealt with in order to arrive at a less toxic relationship. But, we usually respond to these things with fear, some of it realistic fear, and most of it irrational.

The task, is to be honest with ourselves, to confront our own fears and then risk being authentic striving for the best version of ourselves that lays within each of us. And importantly, do so with a smile and having a bit of fun. Standing outside around a ice-cold firepit in the wee hours of a morning, like the image above, is about fun – safe fun. Find the cracks that are in your protective armour. Dare to risk a small thing. It will be the beginning of a new you.

Today, one of my Twitter friends, Emma James, proposed a fun activity based on a cartoon. Her Tweet challenge came in the wee hours of New Year’s Day:

“We have to start 2021 with a #challenge. I love this cartoon. It reminded me of the fun I had creating this picture, so get your best #christinekeeler on for a #2021chairpose. It’s time for the maligned #nudes to break out #women #men #nude #power “

It wasn’t long before so many began to submit their New Year’s day images with the pose in place. Naturally, I didn’t want to miss out on all the fun. It took a while before I finally came up with a setting for the challenge. Now, before I show you my entry, I want to comment about the dynamics that have led to this type of activity. Covid19 has turned our world upside down in so many ways. Most places in the modern western world are in some form of lockdown or other. Most of us find ourselves behind closed doors, unable to bring others into what was once considered the safe space of home where one was king or queen. Social contact has been restricted to phone calls, sometimes gathering together virtually, and at safe distances while outdoors.

With the turning of the wheel of time to give us a New Year, nothing really has changed. Covid19 is still here and running rampant as we begin to attempt to vaccinate enough people to allow us to feel safe enough to re-engage in the world of physical presence. The challenge remaining to us is to shift our thinking from being held hostage, to one of adopting a different lens to look at our world and our lives. The challenge is to go forward and risk. For those who are naturists [nudists for some], that challenge is double-edged. As one of my long-time friends, a journalist from Montreal, Canada, Jillian Page, has stated in her recent article, A New Year, a New Community,

“We need to raise the profile of social nudism, and there may never have been a more opportune time as the world becomes more sensitive now to systemic discrimination against so many groups of people.”Jillian Page, The Naturism Community

As Emma stated in her tweet, “It’s time for the maligned nudes [naturists and nudists] to break out.” We need to claim our spot, our identity as naturists which is being co-opted by the porn industry in hopes of spreading their “tent” to include naturism as a subset of their economy. How are we going to be able to do this? Well, it can only come by each of us daring to be authentically our nude selves, promoting what we mean about who is a naturist, and what naturism is. Our images are part of that movement, that agenda.

We can’t get there hiding in a closet.

Okay, in case the title wasn’t clear, I am wishing you a Happy Naked/Nude New Year in both French and Scottish Gaelic languages. I don’t know much Gaelic other than through language study. Why the interest? Obviously there has to be a connection with ancestry. I speak French and English with relative ease as they are the languages of my parents. My ancestors also spoke Gaelic in Europe, and Anishinaabemowin [Ojibwe Language] and Kanyen’kéha [Mohawk Language] in Early North America. Happy New year in Mohawk is Ohserá:se! In Ojibwe it is Minawaanigozi Oshki Biboon. Regardless of the language, Happy New Year.

This morning I began a new journal. I am somewhat regular in keeping it. Since 2013, the journal has also contained skyclad images. Not every entry has such an image, nor is every day given an entry. Travel and visiting is often the most likely reason for omissions. Do you keep a journal?

The sun is shining. I will be going out for a countryside walk of an undetermined distance this afternoon, This morning, I took down the Christmas decorations. It is a tradition to take down the decorations before New Year’s Day so that we drag as little of the old year, as possible, into the new year. It doesn’t have to make logical sense. It is the way it is. Where there is light, there is hope and life.

The walk happened. Sunshine, -12 Celsius, a pleasant breeze made it feel like – 18. We walked 8 kilometres with two of them through soft snow [think walking in loose sand by the sea] making it a good workout. Now, pleasantly tired and parked beside my laptop with a good, hot cup of Earl Gray tea, ready to relax. Leftovers for supper means that there is not much left to do for the rest of the day.

Yesterday, I finished the third rewrite of my second book in a series of historical fiction. Now, I just have to do a final spell-check before I get someone [any volunteers] to read it before I risk publishing it. The book has about twenty-one thousand words, just like the first book, A Tale of Two Vikings. The working title of the book is The Crusade of Princes. Part of the reason I want a few volunteer readers is to perhaps find a better title for the book. The First Crusade only forms part of the book, albeit a significant part. There is no hint of naturism in the book, though there is an element of speculative fiction with the appearance of a couple of Celtic deities to serve as links between parts.

While that process is underway, I will return to a naturist novel that has been sitting in limbo for several months. Also needing my attention is a naturist space opera of sorts. It will likely be several more months before I can return to the space opera. When and where I get time to work on book three of the historical series which could end up with five to seven books in the series is hard to tell.

I think I’ll need to live to be more than a hundred if I am ever going to finish the stories that are yet lurking beneath the level of consciousness. And then there is a book that is being requested that will be the hardest task – the survival guide to navigating through midlife while holding a relationship together. Perhaps, if I can do that topic justice, it will end up being my legacy. Sigh, I get tired just thinking about all of this.

Now, if you would consider reading a small book, a historical novella, please leave a comment here, drop me an email or Twitter direct message, and I will get back to you. Thanks in advance.