Through a Naturist Lens

I was up very early this morning. When my wife goes to work for the early shift, we get up around five. We then have coffee while sitting on our love seat which has a view that looks out the window. By the time she leaves, it still isn’t light out and it will only get darker, longer until the winter solstice which is just about a month away.

I have always been a morning person so I don’t mind getting up early. At this time of day, I am the owner of the Earth and no one tries to dispute that fact. However, today I noticed a hint of sadness within me. Since I am paying better attention to my body, I didn’t stay in this mood very long. I have a writing project in process.

I am putting together a series of posts that paint a picture of my aborted Camino, the time I spent walking in France. I kept a journal of my walk wherein I disclose the depths of my feelings which were twinned with quotations from a couple of books that I carried along with me. My Jungian psychology posts are paused. I am avoiding “depth” in favour of being present in the world.

It’s Remembrance Day and it snowed again last night. I’m not sure why I wanted to go out into the snow without my clothing. I really wasn’t all that warm, so I didn’t stay out there very long. Well, maybe I do know why. This whole idea about being fully present in life has a lot to do with the senses.

When it comes to my typology, Sensation is my weakest function. Opposed to Sensation is Intuition the strongest of my functions. If I am to become better balanced in life, I need to work on developing my sensate function. I am trying to listen attentively and speak only after considering the choice of words. Listening is a bit of a problem as I have a hearing disability that requires me to use hearing aids. I bought them a few years about but often forget to put them in. Since I have been home from France, I am using them every day. It is making a difference.

Being outside in the cold while nude is a brutal way of having me actually feel my body rather than think about my body in the abstract, if I even think about it at all. Seeing this image taken after morning coffee, I can tell just how much work this is. It isn’t the same as roasting in sunlight when I zone out.

Last night was Hallowe’en and we had about thirty-five young people come to get treats. Giving out treats is my task. We had enough stuff for at least a hundred and fifty kids, so I ended up giving more that I would usually give. Why did I buy so much when the past numbers of treaters was always similar? Perhaps it was my hopeful mood.

I am better and it shows to my wife, our neighbours and our children and grandchildren.

While I was in Calgary, I bought a new guitar. I have somehow let my playing slip and almost disappear over the past few years. The urge to play music has returned and I am glad that I have spent the money for this guitar. I have given my old guitar to my third grandson who has an interest. The older two grandsons are all about hockey and that is all good.

One of the things I have noticed since my return from France, is a distancing from Jungian psychology. I just want to be fully present in my life here on the Canadian prairies, albeit with a preference to be present without my clothing.

While I was in Calgary from March through June, I ended up becoming a Buddhist. I took refuge and spent time studying dharma. I was looking for a home, a place where I could meditate with others who wouldn’t judge me.

Just how much of a Buddhist did I become? I have to be honest, I just don’t know. It isn’t like I have a burning desire to join a monastery or to spend hours every day in studying the philosophy. I almost think that the number of Buddhist temples we visited in Thailand last January and February may have influenced that decision. As well, I have discovered that so much about Jungian psychology and Buddhist philosophy that both have in common.

It was a good fit for me. Yet, I have a problem identifying as a Buddhist. I struggle with being pigeon-holed into one dogma. I am still self-discovering.

It has been a while since I have written here, a long while. The analysis came to an end in the summer and I went to France to walk two-hundred and sixty kilometres in less than two weeks. I walked alone. I meditated at various rest stops and again in the pilgrim lodgings found en route. I had thought I would walk all the way to Santiago de Compostela in Spain, but I chose to go home when my wife said she would walk the Camino with me.

I had been walking alone. If you can imagine it, it was walking meditation mixed with sitting meditation for anywhere from six to eight hours a day.

Now, I am at home. My wife has decided to return to working on a casual basis. She needed something to do while I was absent from home. Now that we have spent a month together and with winter making an appearance, we have decided to spend three months in a warm climate. The plan is to spend one month in Mexico and two months in Belize. The accommodations have been rented. My hope is that this time around, winter in a tropical climate will be better than it had been in the Yucatan and Costa Rica.

I am feeling better than I have for a very long time.

I have made the decision to return to Canada as soon as possible. I won’t be teaching the second term at the university. I have contacted my psychoanalyst in Calgary so that I can begin to spend time in an intensive round of therapy. I can’t do this on my own any longer. I hate giving up with my classes and my students, but I can tell that I am in trouble.

With that decision made, I find myself able to breathe and even smile. I have been down this road in the past and know that it will enable me to return to being alive on both the inside and outside. There is so much that is being revealed to me in my dreams and in memories that are emerging. I am writing, writing a lot. The flashes of memory are being recorded. The twenty-five page document I had prepared fifteen years ago has grown with many of the holes beginning to be filled in.

The past memories are showing me that there are reasons for my being broken. It is hard for my wife as I reveal these memories, especially the ones involving my mother. I don’t want to say more now. I will let the process of analysis sort out the fact from the fiction. I don’t know when I will write here again.

We are in Thailand for the term break. Since my last post, I have been struggling and have found it harder and harder to teach. Even my students noticed it and they showed real concern.

I was so thankful when the term ended so that we could spend a month in sunny Thailand where I could recharge enough to make it to the end of the school year. We have a beautiful place, a condo with a pool. Everything reminds me of French provincial architecture, statues, and gardens. It couldn’t be more perfect for the work of healing that I needed.

Within the condo, and on the balcony, I was able to be nude most of the time. Soaking in sunshine, especially when I meditated is priceless. When I have the energy, we go for walks around the community and along the crowded beach of Pattaya. I am very hopeful that our time here will work wonders on my spirits.

Term one exams are administered, marked, and term reports were submitted. It was time for the winter break. We chose to go to Thailand for the warmth and hopefully to regain our bearings. Well, to be honest, I was the one who lost his way. On Christmas Eve, I had a flashback that floored me. I won’t go into it here. It is enough to say that my sanity was seriously in question. It was with relief when we landed and made our way to our condo. It was warm, deliciously warm.

Things inside, have been heating up in a big way since coming to Thailand, and not just in terms of air temperature which, indeed, is a fact, a good fact. The heat has to do with ongoing issues that have surfaced because of the removal of an excuse to deny the reality of the past. It seems that the human brain doesn’t really forget trauma. What gets buried beneath layers and layers of denial, or swallowed into black holes of memory eventually makes its way to the surface if prodded enough.

Ego: Holy shit! I must be going insane! I’ve had it! Get me off this roller coaster!

Sky Clad: Take a deep breath. Again. There, that helps, doesn’t it?

Ego: Okay, I have to admit it does. I just have to say the business about taking a time out that was mentioned the last time we met hasn’t really been a time out at all. If anything, it seemed like I jumped head first into quicksand.

Sky Clad: Care to talk about it?

Ego: Where the fuck do I start? You know, I seem to say “fuck” a lot lately.

Sky Clad: Maybe that’s a good place to start. What’s that all about?

Ego:  I don’t know; it just seemed to come out of nowhere, like all the shit that has been emerging while I am writing in my journal or when I try to sleep.

Sky Clad: Exactly! The swearing and the emerging memories are tied together. I think you might remember about learning to repress “swearing” as a teenager.

Ego: You know? You’re right!  Just hold on a sec . . . yes here it is . . . 

“I left the cell late, when Dad was finally satisfied that I had learned my lesson. He told me he would be checking my handwriting in all of my books to make sure that I wasn’t an embarrassment to the family name. I have to admit that I was furious, and that I was burning with shame inside. As I walked from the police station towards home, I stopped and went behind an old garage and began swearing. I made sure that I was hidden and that my voice couldn’t be heard. I knew that if Dad heard me swearing I would be physically regretting it for a long time. But, in spite of my fear, I swore over and over again just beneath the volume level of a whisper. And I knew, that I would have to go to confession for dishonouring, disobeying my father.”

Sky Clad: And now that the dam has broken, you don’t have to hide behind a shed, whispering swear words. Now, as you’re learning, it’s okay to express your hurt, anger and even rage. Of course, that doesn’t give permission to hurt another person.

Ego: I think I just got sidetracked, I wasn’t intending to talk about swearing, but of the more important stuff that is emerging.

Sky Clad: Whoa! It’s all important. Realizing that you have “permission” to feel is critically important. Denying your feelings, your pain, your anger, your sense of being betrayed . . . it’s all wrapped up together with the “acts” of abuse that led to the need to “fly above,” to escape the reality of what was done to your body, mind and soul. This is an important part of healing. 

Ego: But this is as boring as hell for anyone reading this. They want the “juicy details.” 

Sky Clad: <shaking his head> Being transparent isn’t the same as disclosing all the details. Being transparent is about uncovering and freeing the psyche. There is a difference, as you know, between flashing one’s genitals and being naturally nude. It’s all about intention. Sometimes when you’re nude, the genitals aren’t even seen. It’s the person, not the package that is what it means to be “skyclad.”

Ego: Okay. I need to rest again and think about this. I don’t have my typical energy at this point. I get tired so fast.

Sky Clad: You’re working hard and the rest is important. Go and meditate in the sunshine. I’ll be here when you are ready to talk some more.

The full moon was out recently and I watched as it was engulfed by the earth’s shadow. The event was shared with a few others, some of whom could speak English, but most of whom could only speak Mandarin. In spite of the barriers to communication, the event built a sense of connection, of community. The full lunar eclipse seemed to open a portal to the unconscious allowing for an easier dialogue.

Christmas is only two weeks away and we have decorated our apartment. We teach on Christmas day and have classroom parties planned. I will be taking my guitar to class despite there being no heat in any of the classrooms with the windows and door left open for China’s version of fresh air.

Ego: I am actually glad that I get to talk with you again. It seems to be getting easier to connect with you.

Sky Clad: I guess that you are ready for more connection. I want to comment that your recent posts seem to have been dealing more with “mother,” sort of continuing where we left off at our last visit together.

Ego: You’re right of course. It seems that some door opened up and the stuff just keeps coming out. It seems that I can’t turn off the tap, so to speak. I can’t and don’t want to stop writing or thinking about what to write. It almost seems as if life is getting in the way of getting it out and said. 

Sky Clad: I can tell. Your mind certainly isn’t on your paid work <smile>.

Ego: I have been thinking about my relationship with my wife, how much that is conscious as well as unconscious. The “attraction” is still powerful and I am lucky that it goes two ways. But, I do see how I still project my need for mother onto her. It gets confusing when there are several layers of conscious and unconscious relationship with one person.

Sky Clad: Yes it does. As you are beginning to notice, the more you discover about your “self,” the better the relationship is becoming. Awareness of the layers, especially being able to see (at least after the fact) that projections have happened lets you dig under the layers to see what is energized, what is activated. 

Ego: I think I understand. The neediness, the need for physical contact, for affirmation, for acceptance that has its roots in my childhood has been expressed within my marital relationship. I am learning that there has been (and still continues to be) a reciprocal set of projections where I provide the “father” needs for my wife. Being able to talk about these has lessened the intensity, but has not removed them completely. In a way, I don’t think they can disappear. There is something vital in being needed and in needing in relationships.

Sky Clad: Hmmm . . . 

Ego: It’s easy to see how a guy could get lost in a woman though . . .

Sky Clad: Tell me what you’re thinking about here.

Ego: Well, you know, it feels so good – I feel so complete – but then I seem to disappear for a while.  When I am back in my skin, I want to get lost in her again and again and again. 

Sky Clad: Sounds like you are well on the journey, but unaware of what is happening. I want you to think of the journey of Odysseus. On that journey he fell under the spell of the feminine, under the spell of Circe who would have taken Odysseus’ manhood with the help of Hermes; and again how Odysseus was trapped by Calypso, on his way “home.” Odysseus spent years, lost in the intimacy of sex and passion in Calypso’s bed. There is a difference between getting lost in “le petit mort” of passion and authentic relationship between the masculine and the feminine. Odysseus learns this and is able to continue his journey to Penelope. At some point you have to learn the difference.

Ego: Is intimacy something to avoid? Are you saying that marriage doesn’t involve marital relations?

Sky Clad: Not at all – just that you need to be aware of what is really happening to you and why you are partaking in these relations. Is sex being used to contain and control you? Or is sex a shared intimacy freely given with no strings attached? Once you get that figured out, then you can look at your partner with a few less projections and hooks getting in the way – both of you become conscious of how and what your relationship is about. Enough for today – go meditate on this.

We are in the Philippines near Cebu at a place called White Sands Resort. I managed to get the university to allow us to teach enough extra classes so that we could have a brief holiday for some snorkelling. Our students didn’t mind cramming as that would mean more free time for them while we were gone. There is a trust thing that exists based on our time spent at this university.

Yesterday, I got the news that my mother had died. Today is our fourth day in the Philippines, four blissful days of snorkelling, hiking, and discovering the rural villages near the beach area. With the news, not unexpected, of her death, I found myself crying. Both my wife and I understood this to be a healthy sign of grieving. Today, I went out on my own to find a place on one of the tiny beaches surrounded by rocky outcroppings for meditation. I didn’t think about the possibility that anyone would wander by. I just didn’t care. My mother just died.

I used to play a lot of music in my youth, giving my last concert in 1979. When my wife’s mother died, I taught some of my wife’s brothers the song “Mother Ain’t Dead,” a song by Long John Baldry, and we played it at the memorial service. I thought of this song again and wondered if this applied to my mother. Was she now waiting for Jesus to come?

“Mother ain’t dead, she’s only a sleeping, patiently waiting for Jesus to come. She got so sick, last year in the winter, now she’s patiently waiting for Jesus to come.”