It’s a quiet evening. The moon is not due until way after midnight. We arrive at the big pool of mineral water. There are several friends sitting and laying about comfortably. Some are ghostly orange nude figures in the fire light. The white grey bodies are better hidden, submerged in the glistening basalt black waters. Earlier, I bumped into a fellow invisible soaker, who unbeknownst, lay next to me, resting in the dark.
We are ready to dip. We are actually still ready after a pair of days. We haven’t been anything but wholly naked since before we arrived. At this time, the warmer days, grace us with lovely nights. The air is a similar temperature to the waters themselves. It is comforting warm bath.
We took reading materials to our sojourn in the White Mountains. Several things on that reading list needed to be read. We had a couple of Naturist Society magazines from the 80’s. A workbook that we study together to improve life as “Spiritual Warriors” and as a couple. “Gong Hee Fot Choy” is fortune telling for fun, good for a couple of evenings in the warm tent. A couple of Archeology mags were a good short read.
I took “Naked in the Woods” by Storm Moon, quite appropriate for what we were doing. It has a framework to it and is filled with good meditative and experiential exercises to do whilst naked in nature. We tried most of them.
A couple of quotes out of the book:
“To be naked in nature is to be totally unconstrained by symbolic clothing and to be at one with Heaven and Earth.”
“To be at one with nature is to be our true selves and vanish without a trace.”
We’ve been putting some of our time and effort into art, gardening and decoration the last months. I have that budding B&B business and weekly sweat. A part of that is providing an inviting garden atmosphere in the mild winter months of Tucson. We like art. Here is a tale of that odyssey.
We spent a birthday up at Ted DeGrazia’s gallery in the foothills of Tucson’s Catalina Mountains. It has been a while. I love to wander in his old home. It’s an oddly shaped, textured and painted, creative endeavor, which states some down to Earth values.
“No water!” we exclaim. They said that a hurricane would come through, but what happened was just not very exciting. We’re looking at some puddles and lots more sand.
While parking, we’ve seen one car this morning and one person. Then another smiling nude body along the trail down to the lovely granite canyon base. At the bottom of the trail, a couple of tanned friendly guys are sitting in the sun. They all say the same perplexing thing, “No water!?!”
There is nothing to do but take resolve, “So, this will be just a hike today, not a dip.”
We’re at the campgrounds up in the mountains in Big Bend National Park. The hike today was wonderful. We’re surrounded by a variety of tall jagged cliffs and mountains on all sides. People are all around, in tents and small RV’s.
A wailing brat is dominating the otherwise peaceful program. He just doesn’t let up. This kid is a mess. I think about yelling, “Stop beating your kid.” But I’m sure the parents are embarrassed as it is and desperate to get the situation under control. When “he’ll just play himself out in time out” is obviously futile, the father goes into the tent looking tense and firmly on a mission. The child shuts up…Peace returns to the community. I think to thank dad for abusing the little monster. Nah, parents do their best, we all make mistakes and I just hope for the best…
…There is something special about this place…and the sun drops into a saddle.
Golden light and silhouettes replace it. There is calm and magnificence.
After falling asleep watching stars, we awaken to much of the same sense of peace, as the morning sun paints mountains.
When they make a breakfast burrito in Texas, it is built to last. There is a good place to eat in this out of the way spot in an out of the way little town. Back in the day, it was harsh, raw, unrelenting and so were the moral sensitives of the settlers. Today, it is harsh, raw, unrelenting, but very friendly. The young people that are running the store and its take-out are accommodating and enjoy themselves.
We get our gas and ice and sit on the front porch in the open air and shade. It has a peaceful small town feel, until nearby, a very old tourist crawls out of his car and accidentally blares his horn. A startled jump and things settle down again.
We head out on the winding two lane road, soon discovering that the distant ominous tall mountains, not far away, are where we’re going.
In the desert at the base of the mountain, there is a greeting station. We get our online reservations arranged and an orientation and then make our way up the long road in the mountains to the camping area and its facilities.
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.
The Free Range Naturist 