Through a Naturist Lens

It was sunny this morning, very windy. In spite of the wind, I found a windbreak of sorts for my morning meditation.

I want to approach it from a position of mindfulness, a mindfulness of the body. Chogyam Trungpa tells us that : “Mindfulness of body, the first foundation of mindfulness, is connected with the need for a sense of being, a sense of groundedness.” Maybe this is part of the reason I prefer to meditate outdoors, close to the ground.

As I sit, with breezes, sunshine, shade, or even a light shower touching my body while I meditate, my mind registers the experience. Notice that I said my mind registers the experience? Of course my body also registers the experience. Yet it is through my mind that I become aware of what is happening to my body. My body is the middleman so-to-speak between the earth and my mind.

If we don’t have a mastery of our mind, then we have an uncertain and erratic relationship with our body. Trungpa goes on to state:

“But your sitting here at this point is not actually very much a matter of your body per se sitting on the ground; it is far more a matter of your psychosomatic body sitting on the ground … creating a world according to the body situation, but largely one of contact with it, That is the psychosomatic process.”Chogyam Trungpa, The Heart of the Buddha, pp 24-25

It sort of sounds complicated to me, but if I simplify it, it comes down to awareness, a head thing, of my body in contact with the earth, the ground. I am not really my body. I am my mind, that thing that decodes the world. If my body lacks a few of the senses, I still exist. If I lose my limbs, I still exist. This essence of self is what Trungpa is talking about.

So, I simplify it. My body breathers. My mind attends to the breathing, focusing on the in breath then the out breath finding the empty space of nothing between that out breath and the next in breath. I still exist in the empty space. Curious.

In the world of naturism, there is a lot of hiding from others. The average nudist or naturist club is surrounded by barriers which don’t allow passersby to see the naked people within. Often there is a locked gate with a code needed [or a key] which reinforces the secret of who is a nudist/naturist. The club I frequent is no different. Even within the club grounds, the secrecy is maintained. Often people only know each other by a first name with the rest of one’s identity left unspoken.

Personally, after writing my autobiography a number of years ago, the secret of my being a man who prefers/needs nudity was made public. In a small town of just over 500 people, dozens of copies of my book were purchased. Then, the Naked Poetry books made an appearance. If I thought that I could maintain the “secret,” I soon learned otherwise. Now again, I live in a small rural community on the Canadian prairies. Most houses don’t bother with fences between neighbours, and if there is a fence, it is often a frost-wire fence because of little kids or pets. I have a fence along the back edge of my yard. Trucks drive down the back lane, neighbours walk down the lane.

We have discussed building a privacy fence so that others won’t be offended as they walk past when they see me writing on the deck or meditating. The problem, is that is a bit late since many have already seen me in my natural state though no one talks about it. A privacy fence at this point would be like locking the barn door after the horses have escaped. It would also convey a message that nudity needs to be hidden and is shameful. I’m not going to go there.

However, my situation isn’t a normal one. Many found out through my books, before I risked being nude in my own yard [read book three to see how this evolved]. For most people, privacy fences are vital, not for “shame” reasons, but for “security” reasons. When your neighbours are strangers, then the risk is too great. The task then becomes one of somehow communicating with all one’s neighbours about one being a nudist/naturist and why that is the case. Even then, the need for a high privacy fence remains as one can’t control the non-neighbour traffic that passes by one’s yard.

What is your situation? What, if anything, have you done to communicate with neighbours so that they are less likely to file a report should you be seen while nude in your own yard?

The clouds are thick today. My wife and I managed to go out for a 3 km walk this morning. For the rest of the morning, I continued working on my trip planning for the autumn. So far, Saint Malo (3 nights), Caen (3 nights), Bayeux, D-Day beaches, Rouen (4 nights), Le Havre and Honfleur, and Dieppe have been planned in relative detail. I am now working on the three-day stay in Amiens. Next will be a two-night stay in Lille, our last stop in France on the first third of the six-week journey. All the accommodations for the six weeks have been booked, so the basics of the trip are in place, including times and trains to reach our various ports of call.

I will be returning to my current “works in progress” later this afternoon, as to spend too much time on the minutiae of trip planning gets to be too much for extended periods of time. I do want to get some sunshine time as well, whenever it comes out during the afternoon.

The sun just came out, so I’ll sign off for now. A la prochaine, mes amis.

As usual, the weather is warmish, 22 Celsius as I write this on the back deck. It is a pleasant temperature, especially with no wind to make if feel colder. The morning began with sunshine and 12 degrees, enough to have me meditate nude in my favourite space in the back yard. Now, the sunshine is intermittent due to mostly cloudy skies. Rain would be welcome as everything is becoming stressed from a lack of rain. For Friday and Saturday, the weatherman is predicting a 50% chance of some rain and mostly cloudy skies.

Yesterday, I went for a walk in the countryside for just over 5 km, leaving while it was sunny. just before the turn around point, I felt a few sprinkles and turned around to head back. A kilometre further into the walk, the sprinkles turned into rain mixed with tiny bits of hail. By the time I made it back into town, everything was done. The streets were wet, but not enough for puddles. Hopefully tomorrow and Saturday end up with significant amounts of rainfall.

Just in case you were wondering, today’s post isn’t about weather. Rather it is about balance. In psychological terms, it makes me think of what happens when we are too much in ego [think sunshine], or when we are too much in our inner worlds [think overcast and rain]. Looking at it in a different manner, say that of naturism, the same thing comes to mind. Living outside of the textile world, whether it is in naturist social settings or nude at home alone, one loses balance. It isn’t the fact of being nude that is at issue, but the fact of being in relative isolation. By contrast, as a naturist, being denied time for being nude because of being consistently overwhelmed by a textile world, creates a significant level of inner dissonance. We need balance.

Balance is something that is a constantly shifting state. I am finding that when at home, I need more time nude than I do when I am visiting family. I would have thought that the lack of nudity while visiting would leave me frustrated, but such is not the case. Perhaps it is simply that my psyche has more influence than my ego which would have me see myself as a victim because of a lack of nudity. Somehow, I am learning to listen to unspoken voices within. When the sense of needing more nudity for “balance” registers, I find ways to honour that “feeling,” even if it is a stolen moment.

What does balance look life, feel like for you?

This sitting around too much following surgery is frustrating. The first dressing has been replaced leaving only a small dressing over the belly-button. The stitches come out on Thursday. All indications are that all is progressing very well. I am eating right, avoiding lifting, and doing all the right things to help with the 4 to 6 weeks of recovery. Yet, that isn’t enough for me.

My thoughts are jumping all over the place, rarely landing on one thought long enough for some reflection. I am continuing my meditation practice, getting outside to meditate while nude, in a corner of the yard where the morning sunshine collects. It was calming and I didn’t mind the 10 degree Celsius temperature in the least. Unlike yesterday, the wind has stopped howling and is now just a gentle breeze. I will likely go for a naturist hike at some point today. Until then, I will try and regain enough focus to do some more work on my assorted writing projects.

Talking about writing, with my mood I am wondering if I am a good writer and author. Yes, I sell books at book-signing events, but that could be more about being a better salesman than an author. I don’t sell many eBooks, which might be a better indicator of my writing. It’s not that I am a terrible writer, at least in my opinion, but am I writing books that are worth the time and money being spent by others who read books? Naturally, I can’t honestly answer my own questions as I don’t have any objective distance from my works. My books don’t get many reviews, so that becomes less useful in determining the quality of my work.

Now, my mood isn’t something to worry about as I will continue to write, actually I must continue to write according to that inner voice. What is does signify is there is a need to get honest evaluations of my work from others who have objective distance – family, friends and neighbours can’t give me that objective distance. Should I take my work to the professional route of traditional publishing in order to get realistic evaluations of my books? There is a voice within that wants to be ego-gratified with being published by a major [or even minor] publishing house. Only then could I qualify for all sorts of literary prizes. However, does my ego need this? I don’t need the money, so why would I go this route and delay the publication of future books.

As you can see, my mind is giving me “static.” I have written three books of poetry and three novels with the naturist community in mind, yet it is the textile community who buy my books [with a few exceptions]. The naturist community would read my books if they were free … maybe. I somehow get the feeling that many readers in the naturist community who are voracious readers of books, somehow feel that “naturist” books are not real literature so not worth spending money to purchase. Too many questions, too many ifs. It’s time to go and have a coffee outside in the sunshine.

Now, I know that despite all the years I have studied, both at university and since then, I really don’t know all that much. I am living that old expression, “the more you learn, the less you know.” When someone tells me that I am wise, I worry even more for the human race. And then, I find myself checking in on contemporary happenings in the world, especially with our leaders.

It isn’t bad enough that they seem to be hell bent on raping the planet and the countries, states and provinces, and the communities for which they are leaders – but their followers buy the snake oil they are selling and become their personal angry-bird mob chanting the mantras of privilege. No wonder I retreat into a quiet space and pretend that none of it exists.

In a way, that is the path to take. Think of it. If we all took a time out and went quiet, who would be chanting messages of hate and division. The naturist world has its own issues with “us versus them” with the “them” being other naturists. I have quite a following on Twitter and I follow many naturists in return. As a result, I get to hear the issues of control and judgment that appear in that community as well.

Rather than focus on our own personal behaviours and often irrational beliefs, we take sledgehammers made of words to try and force others to fit into … and that is the problem. We don’t really know what these others should be doing and saying since we haven’t really figured it out. We just know that if we could get others to repeat our words, and champion them, then maybe, just maybe, we are on the right track. The majority must be right, right?

Well, I survived the surgery and am beginning to heal. It was my first surgery dealing with an umbilical hernia. This was the cause of my belly button changing from an “innie” to an “outie.” Now, I can look forward to four to six weeks of limited activity, but not limiting my walking. Today, I went out for a three kilometre walk around the town without any extra pain. And yes, there is some pain.

At least, this gives me some extra time to spend on projects at my desk within my home office. I am making myself keep busy with planning the daily plans for the European trip this September and October. I plan out what to see on which day, including the use of Google Maps to illustrate. As well, I am spending a bit more time on my writing, though it is definitely in second place.

Still, I do take a few minutes here and there, when the sun comes out [it is cloudy, cool, and very windy] to catch a few rays. I still have the dressings in place and now use a support wrap to help keep things in place. The stitches are to come out next Thursday, something I am looking forward to having happen. With that said, it is time to go back to planning the trip.

As I mentioned earlier this week, I return to the book The Prophet, by Kahlil Gibran. I am blessed that in our Arabic-phobic world, poets and writers and artists from the middle-eastern world found a home in our western hearts.

As promised, I am turning to the poem, “On Clothes” for today’s post. Interestingly enough, what Gibran had to say about clothes matches both my preference and Joy’s preferred state. That said, neither of us, for a moment, believe that being clothing-free is a twenty-four/seven lifestyle in our world which includes others who don’t share the same values. Now, the poem.

“Your clothes conceal much of your beauty, yet they hide not the unbeautiful.
And though you seek in garments the freedom of privacy you may find in them a harness and a chain.
Would that you could meet the sun and the wind with more of your skin and less of your raiment.
For the breath of life is in the sunlight and the hand of life is in the wind.

Forget not that modesty is for a shield against the eye of the unclean.Kahlil Gibran, The Prophet, p. 33

It is hard to believe that Gibran wrote these words more than a 100 years ago, for the words resonate so deeply with just about every thing that I have come to know about naturism. It isn’t about clothing though clothing is the subject. Rather, it is about getting to know oneself and then having the courage to be oneself rather than disguising the self to “fit in.”

“For that which is boundless in you abides in the mansion of the sky, whose door is the morning mist, and whose windows are the songs and the silences of the night.”

There is a real need for our human spirit to be set free, rather than caged, even if the cages of clothing and houses are the best that money can buy, for as Gibran tells us: “your house shall not hold your secret nor shelter your longing.”

Well, this is my last post before tomorrow’s operation. It isn’t supposed to be anything major, so I am not too worried. I will be in good hands, the hands of a skilled and experienced doctor. At one point in my life, I may have taken these last hours for prayer, trusting in the hands of a god to keep me safe. But, not at this point. It isn’t that I don’t believe in something, some presence greater than “self.” Rather, it is that I don’t have belief in the Christian or any other “ism’s” god. Carl Gustav Jung nailed it pretty well when he said:

“There are no longer any gods whom we can invoke to help us. The great religions of the world suffer from increasing anaemia, because the helpful numina have fled from the woods, rivers, mountains, and animals, and the God-men have disappeared underground into the unconscious.”C.G. Jung. Symbols and the Interpretation of Dreams, CW 18, para 598.

I often say that I am sort of a Buddhist, but that is not a truthful statement. I have been entered into whatever book that may exist, as a Buddhist once I took refuge in Buddhism, just as I am recorded in another book as a baptised and confirmed Catholic Christian. Yet, neither of those worldviews are mine. I have curiously found myself in a singular world of one, surrounded by billions of others in their singular worlds of one. I wondered about this as it would have been much easier to have “Jesus take the wheel” and be responsible. As I read further, from Jung’s work, I found:

“The Buddhist discards the world of unconscious fantasies as “distractions” and useless illusions; the Christian puts his Church and his Bible between himself and his unconscious; and the rationalist intellectual does not yet know that his consciousness is not his total psyche.”Ibid, paragraph 601

If anything, because Jungian psychology has space for the Christian face of me, the Buddhist face of me, the pagan face of me, and the many other faces of me, I have been better able to rummage around in the terrain of the unconscious to become just slightly more aware of who I really am. And of course, a bit of meditation along the way has been helpful. So now, I invoke those unknown presences within my unconscious to stand over me, both gods and goddesses in their own right.

I was looking at my book by Kahlil Gibran called The Prophet because of a photo I had seen on Twitter quite recently. I picked up the book and looked inside to see that I had originally bought this small hardcover book in 1969. It was a strange purchase for a 20 year-old at that time, perhaps at any time. However, it wasn’t the first book of poetry that I had bought. That honour went to Leonard Cohen’s small paperback book of poetry called Spice Box of the Earth, a book that is not in my collection any longer which I bought in Montreal in the late spring of 1967.

My book collection had been seriously reduced as I downsized in many ways [shrinking in height included]. However, My first books of poetry were gifts to me from my maternal grandmother who had also given me a hardcover edition of Dante’s, Divine Comedy. My first conscious naturist experiences were with my grandmother’s books of poetry in a meadow surrounded by trees . It was a tough time for me as a teenager, and her poetry books became part of a number of unconscious responses that ended up saving my life. You can read about this in the first book of my autobiography, A Broken Boy.

There are twenty-eight sections in the book by Gibran. in the second section, the prophet speaks about love, which is personified as a “he.”

“Like sheaves of corn he gathers you unto himself.
He threshes you to make you naked.
He grinds you to whiteness.
He kneads you until you are pliant;
And then he assigns you to his sacred fire,
that you may become sacred bread for God’s sacred feast.”Gibrah, Kahlil – The Prophet, 1969, p.12

Now that I am significantly older, I can better appreciate these words which must have seemed quite contradictory when I was younger. However, back then, it was the word prophet, and the sections “On Crime and Punishment” and “On Good and Evil” that most caught my attention. Well, to be truthful, the illustrations were also a factor in my appreciating the book. Regardless, I devoured the book and still continue to return to it. Now, I am planning on creating my own version of this book, complete with illustrations. We’ll see how this intention pans out in the years to come.

I will return to another poem within the book, very soon.