Bears Ears, Utah #43
2024-06-11
One Moment Leads to the Next
We are in the White Mountains of Arizona and have just arrived at the site of the 1997 Rainbow Gathering, where the main circle was once the focus of 10,000 in prayer.
The first part of our long walk can be found here:
We’ll continue, now: We decide to take a walk up the corridor to where one of the Rainbow’s “shitters” had been dug and buried nearly 30 years before. In the mountain meadow, I look for a place to cross the creek. I see the long meadow bending and disappearing into the forest.
We proceed.
I just know the direction and sun placement when I get into the deep woods, but I know that we will come out on the road that leads across the other great field and that leads out to the main road.
Getting through the deep forest with no landmarks, we pop out in the open again. I stand and remember the time we saw our first wild Mexican Grey Wolf here. It was running across the field just to run and enjoy being alive with its own joy.
We step onto the trail that leads down the road to the spring through a canopy of tall pine. The iris dot the springs.
Here in the mountains, with fresh water, life is in bloom.
DF takes her shoes and socks off to wade and wander in the creek.
Her sense of loving nakedness is enhanced.
I see her smile. I’m mistaking her chill for nervousness at first. “Much more chilly here,” she confesses.
Butterflies flutter around us.
DF is sitting on a nice flat rock getting re-dressed, well, slipping back on her shoes and socks. I look over and reminisce about our older past campsite. It was a beautiful spot, being right next to the spring, but I remember too many disruptive visitors.
We begin our stroll away. A tiny mushroom fools us. It isn’t a kid’s toy ball.
Skeet shooters targets litter a portion of the grassy field.
Nude is great pleasure. It is like a welcoming familiar home. This grand space freely nude is also feeling like a home.
Our simple nudity has enhanced our experience. Bare, we’re meeting the surroundings without any bare-iers. Skin registers the warming sun like warmth from a fire, becoming wonderfully alive to the subtle shift into shadow and now, the evening cooling. Textures have sharpened. Scents linger. The new scents appeared, like now, in the aromas of the evening air. There is much more presence. We find that what might be routine becomes a sensual celebration, nude.
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