Through a Naturist Lens

It was another sunny morning and early afternoon in Olon, Ecuador. Just before noon, I decided to head out with the sole intention of getting some sunshine. I had several hours to myself and I intended on getting the most out of them as possible while the sky was blue.

I walked about a kilometre down the beach to reach the location where I had previously been able to sunbathe when the tide was out. Since the beach was basically empty, I took advantage to get a photo with myself at the edge of the water before setting up my beach sheet at the edge of the grass.  This was what I had come for, pure bliss in the sunshine. I had managed to lay still for a short while before wondering about the abandoned casa which lay just about forty metres from my location, off the beach and behind a broken fence.

So, I went exploring. I didn’t have to worry about being seen as the property was abandoned. So, I risked exploring au naturel. It was a short adventure as there was little about the place that was remarkable.

The only thing that was notable was that I was able to stay nude the whole time, from beach to the casa, wandering around the casa, and returning to my sheet and continuing to sunbathe.

About an hour later, after having had motorcycles, bicycles, beach walkers, and even one half ton truck pass by while I lay on the beach sheet, I was cooked and needing a swim. This location is where I typically stop with my wife for some swimming rather than wait until we get to the main beach in front of the town. As almost always, I swim nude in the sea. Well, swim might be a misnomer as the surf is too strong for swimming. Rather, we play in the surf which revels in knocking us about while the currents alternately shove us towards the shore or drag us out to be battered by another incoming, powerful wave. This is prime surfing territory.

Back home, photos downloaded from my phone, shower taken, and a late lunch eaten, it is time for me to return to editing.

The sky is mostly blue with scattered clouds creating pleasing tableaux. We began the morning with coffee on the beach which is less than a 100 metres from our apartment, rather than on our patio. Of course, that meant I needed to wear shorts. Even though it was early, the beach was already busy. One red car had backed up to the edge of the beach to provide a fully amplified system for beach goers pleasure whether they want it or not. So, with coffee done, we left the beach. Sundays are the busiest on the beach, especially during the “summer holidays.” We are in South America where the seasons are reversed.

Back at the apartment, it is quiet, the way I like it. Because of the crowds,  there is no morning or afternoon beach walk in our plans. That time, will be reserved for me to work on some of the editing work waiting patiently for my attention. Before I begin, I decided to take a bit of time to connect here, with you.

“Sometimes, to our dismay, we find that we have been living someone else’s life, that their values have and are directing our choices. While this life we are leading never quite feels right, it seems to be the only alternative.” James Hollis, Finding Meaning in the Second Half of Life, Introduction.

James Hollis is a Jungian psychoanalyst, not a naturist or nudist as far as I know. What he is talking about here, however, is vital for everyone including naturists and nudists. Because nudity is generally unacceptable by the majority of humans for a host of reasons, naturists such as myself, find themselves living our lives according to the choices made by the overwhelming majority. We circumscribe our lives to fit in and avoid conflict or worse. Again, I am talking here about most of those who see themselves as naturists and/or nudists. There are a few who would reject this citing their own “completely free” lives as examples.

Though many would see my life as blessed with time for being nude, I don’t have almost any nudity in my life as soon as there are others in the picture. Going for groceries, to the restaurant, going for a beach walk, visiting other snowbirds [northerners fleeing the snow and cold of the Northern hemisphere], or simply going out for a stroll to sight see – all require that I wear some clothing. During these times, the values and choices of others trump my values and choices. Since I have no desire to test the legal system, either at home or abroad, I capitulate.

However, when I have the opportunity, typically at home or in a naturist venue such as a naturist campground which is my home club, I get to live the values and choices that best fit who I understand as belonging to me. Yet, even then, I know that this isn’t fully the truth. As long as there is another person in the equation, each of us “adjusts” to some degree to facilitate some sort of relationship, friendship or otherwise. If we don’t, it is likely that we are so egotistically wrapped up in ourselves that we barely acknowledge others nor see that we need others other than as a sycophant audience.

My wife is supportive of my predisposition to being nude. Yet, at times enough is enough and she asks for me to adjust somewhat to match with her values and choices. Relationships are a continually fluctuating ground of values and choices. Why? Because each person in any relationships, whether as friend, foe, mate, or family relation, is constantly changing. What worked last week or last year, and sometimes even yesterday, doesn’t work today. And if it still works, there is no guarantee that it will work tomorrow or further into the future.

Of course, to best navigate all of this, it is imperative that we get to know as much about ourselves as possible. What are our triggers? What are our fears? What gives us joy? What leaves us indifferent? Learn as many of the answers as possible, and continue to ask them over time will see the “self” emerge stronger and more resilient. And that “self” that emerges like a phoenix out of the flames and ashes, does affect change in others whether we wish that to happen or not.

What values and choices do you compromise in order to live within the values and choices of the broader human society?

It is 33 Celsius in the shade this afternoon in Olon. We went for our usual beach walk, this time walking 9 kilometres. As always, we walk barefoot on the sand. There was barely a faint breeze and it was hot in the full sunshine. Still, the alternative would be to be in Canada shoveling snow or going for a walk while wearing several layers of clothing. There is no way I’m going to complain. It was our choice to walk for an hour on either side of twelve noon.

With the first draft of the short story completed, I am returning to some other editing work for the present. I need to put a bit of space between myself and the short story so that I can have fresh eyes for it. That should keep me out of mischief for a few hours.

With the extra heat, we are lazy and have decided to go out for our evening meal rather than cook at home. Fish with mushroom sauce is on the menu in this fishing village, thick fillets of Dorado. I am sure that some cerveza will find its way to our table as well. Life is tough in the tropics on a Sultry Saturday.

I used my cell phone to take a night photo without a flash last night. I was surprised to find that I was even able to get an image. It was black outside with just a bit of moonlight present. Without it, I doubt that there would have been an image.

Seeing the images I took, emerge from the cell phone, I was able to edit them for visibility. It made me think of the shadow. Like so many, my dreams often have a dark aspect, almost as if I am lost in a strange universe. My dreams have often had me nude in these landscapes in the past. These dreamscapes are part of the hero’s journey. Think of Ulysses and his Odyssey – storms, sirens, shipwrecks, monsters, and the eventual return home as a changed man. That journey through the swamplands of the soul, or the dark night of the soul, is about bringing the unconscious within oneself, into consciousness. Some of the stuff of self is good, and much of it is not so good.

So why make this all conscious? Well, to leave it in the unknown inner dark spaces, often invites these shadows to appear uninvited into our lives. And when they put in an appearance, we don’t recognise that they come from within us. We project, unconsciously of course, these dark contents onto others. An example here. We have all heard of a person who is almost a crusader against something that is socially not acceptable – a minister who rails against child pornography or child abuse. Yet, often these same individuals have a secret life that does exactly what they are fighting against.

Another example that is likely more personal for the average person is found in ordinary daily life. One does something or says something that others see and hear, yet when confronted with that fact, one vehemently denies what everyone else knows as objective truth. The truth is, that protest is valid for the ego has no knowledge of saying or doing, that person’s shadow is responsible, the shadow that is denied and projected onto others.

In the world of dreams, the truth is often exposed. The more one resists, the more the images appear and the more amplified they become. Resisting nudity in one’s waking, conscious life often has the dream images flood the dreamer with images of nudity, of naked vulnerability.

Of course, this is just my take on the world of dreams which today’s photos have brought to my attention. Take it or leave it. If you have any responses – pro or con – don’t hesitate to speak out in the comments.

I love being up early. The world almost belongs to me. I have more freedom for nudity as very few walk passed our patio. Those few are focused on their own journey, either to the beach which lays five houses down the road, or to the village heading in the opposite direction.  Then, with the coffee finally ready, my wife joins me on the patio.

Social media still hasn’t intruded into our lives. As we drink the coffee, we talk. The topics are not as important as the fact that we actually listen to each other.  We both see and understand this as being in the moment fully present. I am nude the whole time while she wears a sundress, both accepting the other unconditionally.

With coffee done, it was time for a small breakfast before heading out to walk the beach in the morning sunshine. I wear my tan through swimming briefs while she wears her two piece tan through swimsuit.  Today, it’s an 8km walk. And, as usual, I stop to sunbathe while she continues to walk.  Again, it is about respect and supporting the needs of the other, while also honouring one’s own needs. There are no demands for the other to change.

Now, we are back at our Ecuadorian home and it will soon be lunchtime. We are in our hammocks, me nude are her not. Who could ask for more in a relationship? Love and respect.

It was overcast this morning, and a bit cooler than normal, if you can call 25 Celsius with humidity, cool. Since it didn’t look like sun would be a factor in our day, we decided to go for a hike in the hills rather than go for a beach walk. The fact that the tide would be high also factored into our decision.

The first one and a half kilometres was a pleasant walk, first through the fishing village, then through some rough agricultural land, along a dirt road. Then, we arrived at the base of a small mountain, at least that is what it looked like from the road. Walking up was a workout for hips, knees, and balance as it was quite steep. The dry conditions had made the path crumbly and our feet were working hard to prevent us from slipping back down the hill. Needless to say, there were a couple of rests needed along the route to the top. It was a small victory to reach the top and get a few photos. I also didn’t waste any time removing my shirt. The shorts stayed on as I wasn’t alone.

From the top, we went to a viewpoint which allowed us to see the eleven kilometre long beach in its entirety. We even could see where we are staying, at least the roofing tiles of the casa. With breath recovered and heart rate reduced, we began a short 50 metre descent followed by another 20 metre ascent. Then, it began to be interesting.

The undulation continued until we arrived at the beginning of a descent that had us think twice. We should have thought three times. The descent was very, very tentative with both of us taking baby steps, and keeping eyes glued to the ground. The fine, pulverised dirt found us constantly slipping. We knew it was likely going to be a nightmare going back up on our return journey that was to take the same route back to the village and our apartment.

The ascent that was to follow was beyond ridiculous. I couldn’t imagine tackling the uphill climb, and even worse, the danger of the return down that track. Remember, we are both in our seventies and have no interest is falling and breaking any bones, especially in a country far from home. At that point, sanity returned and we decided to inch our way back up the hill, rather than take on the challenge of the final uphill we had thought would be our midpoint of our hike.

Going back up the hill was every bit as difficult as I imagined. There was no doubt we could have used crampons. The ground was not as stable as needed for safety. Yet, slowly, sometimes almost parallel to the ground, we made it back up the hill. The rest of the return journey was a breeze [not really] in comparison with the first ascent to begin our return. Now, back at the apartment, we both agree that it was a morning well spent … and as a result, we were spent as well.

Would the track make for a good naturist hike? Possibly. Parts of the trail are quite visible from the highway, however there are stretches where I am certain one could safely hike nude. One caveat, the trail is used at times for ATV excursions.

Well, all good things have to come to an end. At some point, I just had to get out of the hammock and get on with life. By life, I mean beach walking, writing, editing, and some socialising on-line and off-line.

As far as my writing is concerned, I am now at 2,500 words and there is still no indication as to who is responsible for two deaths in the naturist campgrounds, or why they were murdered. Since I only have 2,500 words left, I need to find out the answers to these questions, I have my work cut out for me.

I’m not used to writing short stories, preferring to use the complicated and intricate laying down of plot, motives, psychological profiles of characters, and so on. Likely, I will go way over the 5,000 words and find myself doing a lot of pruning of the first draft. The muse has returned from a brief day off.

Early morning stretch. When I get up early it’s as though I own the world. The other two residences in the small compound are now occupied, which means my nudity on the deck will be severely restricted until they leave. Taking this photo was a risk, perhaps an unnecessary risk, when all is said and done.

This particular image made me reconsider what it is I am doing here. How did a shy, quiet, senior end up naked, almost in public? It is a question I wrestled with for the next two hours while wearing shorts on the patio, something I hadn’t done since we arrived here in Olon. A notice from Amazon, telling me that I had sold a paperback of my novel, It’s Complicated, served as the catalyst for my “remembering” how and why my life got this way.

I then went to my author’s dashboard at Amazon. Seeing the three novels, the three poetry books, and the three volume autobiography took me back in time. These books are a record of my journey as a man and as an author. Naturism became a pivotal centre of my healing journey. Seeing the titles, I decided to re-post them to my Facebook account which is limited to family and friends. All have seen these covers, most have likely read at least the first two books of my autobiography, and some have bought and read all nine of the books. I guess that you could say that I have no secrets. For a time, the first and second books of poetry were free for my family and friends to read at Smashwords. Hundreds of downloads later, I inexplicably removed them from Smashwords making them only available at Amazon as print-only books. Regardless of the visibility and access today, most saw the photos of me naked. Not only was my story known by all these people, so were my photos. I had a naturist blog site that was shared with family and friends as well.

Yet today, that is all changed. That old blog site is gone, replaced by a new one [better in my opinion] which few, if any, of my friends and family are aware even exists. My Jungian psychology blog also disappeared. That blog site had frequent themes that were uncomfortable in terms of the naked human psyche. The man who took a journey of healing which revolved around Jungian psychology, Buddhist meditation, and naturism has faded into the past. The books remain, but rarely mentioned, and those still talked about are the autobiographical books.  Is it about them, or is it about me, or … ?

I’m not a brave man, by any stretch of the imagination. Writing blog posts with my images, which are only viewed by a few handfuls of naturists, is not a brave act. In the big scheme of things, it is basically a non-event. So why do I get worked up about it, as if my world would come undone should others who are not in the naturist community, especially family and friends, get to know about this site? That worry has been eating within me for some time. It is the central reason for cropping my photos. The question, “what if my grandchildren or their friends see these posts?” screams at me though the physical books, including the Naked Poetry books are in their homes, unhidden. I don’t have the answers in spite of having all the facts.

I am not alone when it comes to being a solitary naturist or nudist. Almost every single one of us has a certain level of insecurity when it comes to being different from the others around us, whether they know and accept, or not. How do we continue to be fully present in the lives of all those people in our lives while hiding at the same time? How do we keep these people in our lives if we “let it all hang out”?

I hope you have some answers for this old man.

It will likely come as no surprise that I am writing this post while comfortably ensconced in a hammock that is gently swaying. I think the post’s title gave it away. It’s mid afternoon, siesta time for many, but not for me. There’s something about sleeping in the daytime that I resist. Rarely do I take my laptop to the hammock, instead I use my tablet.

We returned from a 10km beach walk not too long ago, a walk which included some naturist sunbathing time. As usual, I was able to get a beach photo. However, since I have posted more than my fair share of bare beach bum photos, I decided to pass on adding yet another such photo, at least for the time being.

The neighbours with whom we shared the yard, have gone. Until a new set arrives, we have the whole property to ourselves. Naturally, that means a few different photo locations for my archives. Again, I find myself questioning why I take these photos, the vast majority of which I never share with anyone.

What is the purpose if not for sharing? Obviously, they aren’t about being an exhibitionist, these archived photos. The occasional image makes its appearance here, usually cropped so as to fly under the radar and interest of porn hounds – yes, they do collect photos of old men such as myself, daddy issues. Different photos will make it into my personal, off-line journal. The rest, saved onto an external hard drive. Why? I don’t really know, you’ll have to ask my shadow.

Today, I didn’t do any cropping. No porn hound worth his reputation as a connoisseur of male anatomy photos would see any sexual merit in  adding this photo to their collection. Yet, the fact that a penis is visible reduces the possibility of sharing this post via a number of social media options. When I crop my photos, I get some feedback about caving in. It’s as though every photo MUST include a prominent penis if I am to legitimately call myself a naturist.

Of course, that is their problem. Since they don’t make up the board of directors for policing naturist photos, I ignore these comments and injunctions. Most, thankfully, offer no comment about the photos and censorship. Nudity is implied in such a manner, that no one has the faintest thought that I might be faking it and not really be a naturist/nudist.

So why? Why the photos in the first place? For me, it is part of my therapy. There is a reason that I use the term skyclad therapy in so many places. Naturism was an integral part of discovering enough value in myself to avoid seeking an early exit from existence. It had nothing to do with my part-time practice as a mental-health counsellor over twenty plus years. Counselling and therapy sessions were conducted with both client and counsellor wearing clothing.

Why do you have pictures of yourself, naked? Why do you sometimes share them? What is your story? I am listening and waiting to hear from you.

It’s Sunday morning in Olon. I am a rather subdued person at the moment. I didn’t sleep all that well and woke up tired. I could blame it on the heat and humidity, but that would be a stretch. The truth is, I am slightly depressed. Maybe the overcast skies this morning are partly to blame. Maybe the constant political warfare in Canada and the USA is to blame. Maybe it is just something I ate. Of course, it is easy to blame someone or something for how one feels, especially when those feelings are negative about self and/or others.

One of the topics that has me wondering and perhaps a bit grumpy, is a recent debate -a kind word for disagreements- about normalising naturism. Nudity and naturism, in our western world, is definitely not normal, not the norm. The nude body is the natural state for all human beings. No one that I know, or have ever heard of, escapes the fact that clothing is an “add on” for a host of reasons. Nudists and naturists are outliers in our contemporary world. It is the way it is and nothing I can say alters that fact. Humans in a state of nakedness is a rare event, rarer when in the company of other people. None of these points can be translated to say that there is anything inherently moral or immoral about a human without clothing, or about a human wearing clothing. Being a moral or an immoral person is about something beneath the skin.

Polarised thinking and living, what I call “fundamentalism” with or without a religious underpinning, exists in people whether they are nude or wrapped up in so many layers of cloth that determining gender is literally impossible. Throwing the word “naturist” or “nudist” out into the world as a self-descriptor, and expecting that somehow one is magically more honest, more ethical, or more moral is all about using the terms naturist and nudist as a mask to hide the negative aspects of self, to hide one’s shadow. People vested in clothing project their discomfort of self onto others, people vested in nudity do much the same. The risk in shedding clothing is accepted and embraced as though one is a martyr for a cause. Why was the clothing removed? Honestly, though most seem ready and willing to proffer answers, the truth is usually buried in the unconscious. And few are willing to peel back the layers of consciousness to see what lurks below.

I am not an activist, nor do I care much if others become nudists or naturists. I am self-aware enough to know that something about being out of my clothing is therapeutic for me. I guess that means that I am selfish when it comes to being naked. I don’t for a moment that being nude makes me a better person vis-a-vis other people. It does make me a better and kinder person to my “self.”

Being a better person has to do with self respect, and a healthy respect for others whether they are buried beneath layers of material or nude. It begins with the eyes which dare to look into the eyes of others, daring to transform a relationship from “I-It” to “I-Thou.”

And your thoughts?