Monthly Archives: July 2019

Happy 4th Birthday

It has been four years that this two year project has been going strong. Happy Birthday

We’re gonna keep goin’…naturally.

Thanks for joining us on our adventures, for following and all the thumbs up. We hope that you are becoming more and more liberated, too.

The site first published on the 14th of July, more or less. We hope that you all get to celebrate “International Nude Day” and/or “National Nude Day” and/or the culmination of “Nude Recreation Week” this Sunday!

Jbee and DF

P.S. A two part solstice hike story in the White Mountains is coming next week.


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Clothing Affects the Entire Body in Many Negative Ways

I just took off my robe. I noticed a change in posture.

Yesterday, I was walking around the Tucson Gem and Mineral Show in my wrangler denim jeans. I had my hands in my pant’s pockets, which is a slouch.

A tight outfit, makes a body move more stiff. It limits the range of motion. These become habits when the muscles are not being used, stretched, or being exercised. A waistband can tighten a belly, squeeze it over the top as a pot belly and constrict flow. It can affect a hernia, giving false support to muscles that need to carry their own duties.

Too Tight!

Continue reading

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A Course of Miracles

Late June 2019


The cicada are busy. They are an odd bug with a short bulbous body and longer cellophane wings. The winter rains, or the seven year itch, have brought them on in force.  I’m not sure why it is that they are so active. Perhaps I tune them out during their seasonal comings and try to forget the chatter of their wings, but I’m also seeing more of them.

Today I’ll sit on the porch and listen. It will be one-hundred-something Fahrenheit by afternoon. The sun is already warm this morning, as I step out the front door. I wince at the glare from the east. It’s kind of bright when seen through sleepy morning eyes that are used to being closed.

There is the warmth all down my right side as I face north and listen. The cicada chatter. Like crickets they tend to ebb and flow. When it dies down, there is a calm.

I turn to make my way to the shady porch around the corner.  I proceed along the walkway with two empty chairs and a table with a collection of ancient pottery shards. The sun feels good, as if a god is giving me a pat on the back. As I cross, the sun’s blessing becomes a massage. I enjoy the touch, but there has been plenty of heat during the last couple of weeks. This morning, for now, I’d like some cool.

The porch has its couch facing west. It presents a view into the lush desert. I sit down in its charming cradle of fluff. I cross my legs Indian fashion, I sit up comfortably, the mind stays stilled, not yet out of sleep.

The cicadas persist, more ebb and flow, more chatter to calmness. Continue reading

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