We’ve been setting up camp for our White Mountain Sojourn. I presented that in the last Post, number 3 in the series. There is more. I didn’t realize how much more, when I started to write.
Here’s how we bathe:
We must first drive down to the spring with its creek. It is beautiful. We have camped here before, but the 4th of July crowds will be there and some have arrived early. We need solitude and body freedom.
We slog to the spring in the wet grasses and slushy water that tends to seep out across a gentle floodplain slope.
A creek full of fresh water comes out of the ground here.
We have decided to camp in our ol’ favorite site at the edge of the great grassy field, amongst the Arizona aspen and pines. We are here to relax and sojourn. We decide to take our time to settle in.
This is that story.
We have sat awhile; it has been a long drive with late night packing. The big canvas bell tent may take two or three hours to put together. We have our small quick and easy tent to fall back on. We do.
Setting up the tent and blowing up the light camping mattresses for a comfortable bed takes a short time and effort. After a snack, we’ll sleep, but first we just wander and enjoy this place. We’re getting re-acquainted.
There are winds, lots of wind, but not as much as down here under the tree canopy.
The Next Day:
We have work to do after our first longer walk and some exploration. The first is to produce breakfast and then to erect the tent…after we sit a spell. There is a little guitar playing in between, just because I can and it feels good.
I wake up naked in the morning air of the forest, near its stream. There has been pressure, the tension of a list that needs to get done, the obligations.
I begin to walk, noticing the clarity of the air as I breathe. I take first steps. The ground is still moist, the silt on it comforts my naked feet. It is firm, soft, alerting them to the sensuality, grounding me, a gift greeting me. I sense a belonging in this.
The stream flows before me, reflecting the expanse of trees and sky.
The whole of this body of mine is grasped by the flood of gentle warmth, as I step into rays of sunlight. They glisten on the water’s surface, shining like diamonds with the gentle movement.
With little effort, the water passes, free of resistance.
I step down, intent not to disturb the rich green blades and moss that have gathered along the edge of this creek. Instead, my foot meets the hard stone surfaces.
Here lays bedrock, having been uncovered and smoothed by the passing of millennia. The shapes and texture show the changing ebb and pace of the water in time. Even a rock goes with the flow and records the liquid’s lessons in reflection.
I sit down on the rock surface, both of us bare and shaped by existence. I am attuned to the plethora of sensations that I’m experiencing.
The water level is just below my perch, where the stone slopes into the creek. My hand experiences a refreshing temperature, as it submerges from air to liquid. I feel its resistance to the push of the flow. I remove it and then I sit still.
I match my breathing to the rhythm of the spring’s calm, yet busy vibration. I take the cue to be more fluid, to loosen. Just as sediment and sand settle on the bottom, I feel my body similarly relaxing. All of that anxiety and restlessness begins to fall away.
More in the freedom from tension, I unwind from the pressure that had been consuming me. I’m here now.
When stress and worry tell me to push through, I remember the water’s wisdom. I can move with increasing ease. I remember that I can go with the flow instead of resisting it. I sit in this essential naked body, feeling it breathe.
I’ve taken something from a “Daily Word” prayer, which took a notion from Psalm 37:7 in the Bible. I then wrapped my own life and sense around it. Not all mine, I just want to share something meaningful.
I am on the forum of FreeRangeNaturism.com often, if you would like to converse.
I lay in bed, this morning, just listening. The meditation is to do just what I am doing; Focused; Mindful; Aware; Distract the thoughts; Doing just being.
The wind is heard in the distance. Invisible clumps of it are heard out there, in some direction outside of the tent. Then, when they come toward us, the tree’s branches above seem to move like a whip. But there’s not so much ruckus down here, below it all.
I roll to my side, one elbow supports against impending collapse. This morning, there’s a new world out there past the bug net screen. Parts of the mind are still climbing out of the nightly haze, as the body, now on all fours rolls somehow into a squat.
A zip and then a place for the head to fall through, I climb out of the protective tent.
Bright sun, fresh pine scented air, my naked body gets acquainted with the elements of the morning.
There’s wind. We get a break here from the numerous trees between us and the vast grassy field, which is surrounded with more distant dark forests. The gusts travel above us.
It’s a June wind. The weather service said gust as high as 45mph SE and SW, last night.
A giant whipping arc circles around from the north. It manages to penetrate the wind block. Very chilly air creates a shiver up and down a naked body. I’ll have to accept that it will likely happen again this morning, as just an occasional anomaly.
I say a little prayer for direction. I listen, aware and sit down to put some time into this.
Have you ever gotten to that point where you can feel that you need a reset? When every day you feel just a bit off, there is pressure, a long “to do” list and the ‘ol inner peace isn’t there?
I felt that I had lost track of the essence of my center. DF would say, “Not grounded.” Sometimes, that shut off button needs to be pushed. The clutter replaced with a pause, a stop.
We spent the first couple of weeks in June getting ready for the Western Naturist Gathering and the coming glamp-out. It is to be a sojourn, a retreat. The June heat is coming and we won’t come back until the monsoon rains cool that off. It will be like Spring after a long Winter, a fifth season.
I like that word “re-treat.” Our destination is a spot that I had chosen before, but that attempted treat came crashing down as covid laid me flat in this wilderness, alone, but for the howl of the Mexican grey wolves.
It is a beautiful spot in the National Forest, a designated wilderness where cattle are forbidden, and all is left to its own nature. There will be nobody else for miles and many long deserted roads to wander through the forest. We will happen upon the many gems yet to be discovered. There will be no dress code, only the immersion into nature.
The Free Range Naturist 