Friday August 7th 2015
I rained off and on all afternoon. I spent the afternoon in delight and writing about the experience in a naked body, as follows:

I take a walk in the desert.

I slip on my fivetoe KSO’s. The rain has stopped pouring in wind swept sheets. I will listen out at the edge of my property for flowing water in the desert. If none, I will take a stroll through my desert stealth/nature trail. When I open the front door, I notice that it is sprinkling. As I begin my walk, it starts to rain again. This time, it is very different, a calm pour, no winds, and warm large drops. What a treat, naked in the rain again.

I see no flow of water, and hear no sound of the creek running in the distance. I take the stealth trail. The path is soaked, the sandy soil bloated and soft. My shoes sink deeply into this, sometimes three or more inches, leaving what looks like barefoot tracks. A community of red ants have taken over a long section of my trail, a length where it had been trail before my construction. I do my best to avoid disrupting them, but accidents happened. I hear the drops of rain splashing on the nearby plants, as is my own experience in this body. Often, I hear just the crunch of my feet on the freshly disturbed washed clean sand, as my foot intricately, grinds through it. The sun comes out, the rain stops, the sun comes out in just this spot where I walk. The humidity nearly instantly changes from cool to a steaming, like any tropical jungle. But this is a desert.

I stop to survey the distant vistas all around me as I stand on a knoll. I am suddenly startled by a cactus wren taking flight just a few feet away from my head. Looking in the alarm’s direction, there is a cholla cactus, and in its masses of prickly branches a new looking nest sits.

I make my way to my favorite sitting rock, a place that I call Havarock. I stand and then I sit cross legged, just listening, just watching, just imbibing the fresh air and its effect on my physical being. Do I hear the creek below? I stand, but I can’t be sure.

Another sprinkle begins as I near home from my excursion. I can’t seem to get enough of this.

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2015-08-04
There are many unseen and seen phenomena in the desert. The lack of interference of unnatural sound, the noise pollution, the uncluttered more mindful state and an aware nude body enhance recognition of these. From Carlos Castaneda’s Yaqui lore of beings such as Nogales, to ghost, they have been a part of culture for millennia.

I have stepped into bubbles of warm and cool air and stood quietly encased. I have sensed the greater wellbeing of a particular spot’s ley energy. Also walking nude in the desert, there are currents, and distinct streams of warm and cool temperatures, humidity differences, flowing down the terrain of the mountains and washes, each indicative of micro-climates. As I sit on my favorite rock, I often listen to the winds. A calm silence can be broken by the approach and passing of a seemingly being-like presence. The bushes may rustle one after another. It may pass by, or pass through. It may come only a few feet away, but never touch me. It may be apparently small or large, 20 or even 40 feet in its disturbance of the vegetation. It may briefly engulf my body with warm or cooler air. Nudity in nature is awareness and a better understanding of our relationship with what is and it is fun.

Today, I saw a ghost-like creature. The rain had washed the dirt road into an uncomfortable system of gulleys, washboards and ponded potholes needing to be dodged. Our neighbor had generously taken it upon himself to grade these away. Here, in the desert things dry up rapidly and in this case a fine layer of dust had been created. We are all probably familiar with the sight of the “dust devil” a smaller version of a tornado, blowing across plains in movies and pictures, if not personal experience. They can be very uncomfortable as a sandblast, never a good place for contact lenses, but also, they can be more gentile. This one entity was one of those that is seen. This one had grasped the fine powder. There was a much slower velocity in its spinning vortex. The dust was seen to lightly float in small clouds. It stood maybe seven or eight feet tall, as it walked along the road side. It was simply ghostly as though alive.

My amazement turned to pondering. It was a vortex. It was vibrating, energetic, just like any atom that makes up a body. It had mass and reflected light. It was itself a phenomena with a nature as any other form of life. In that sense, it was alive, a being. The Native concept of all my relations would include this. It was simple life form, a unique being. One that you don’t see much, one that you may hear the effects of at other times, or the one that you may just feel with naked skin. We, like plants and other life, are made up of air, heat, moister, and more, purposefully manifesting and interacting. We have a tendency to exist as these do. Life is relationships. If not for these relationships, we would not exist, ego would die. That is other than the piece that merely observes all…go figure.

More Rains Bring More Desert Tunas 2015-08-01

I’m wondering if that title will grab attention, eliciting a, “Whah the…?” Not fish, or even the mythical sand trout of the Rillito River, the Tunas are the buds, or fruit of the local prickly pear cactus. These make a sweet, drink, marmalade, wine or liquor. It is very healthy and nutritious see here: http://www.drugs.com/npp/prickly-pear.html

I had noticed that this year, although many of the usual desert harvest plants have produced less due to odd rain patterns, that my yard is full of buds (tunas). We wanted to pick nude. Nude is better, we are more aware in the spiny groups of pads and then there was the heat. The tiny needles can catch on unawares to pants, becoming a problem later, and cooped up in any tight clothing is silly. There are the prudish neighbor’s windows to the south, where most of the prickly pears have congregated. The other vegetation is quite thick obscuring their view, but their kitchen window can see us in spots. Having had troubles with their nonsense in the past, I placed the vehicles along these areas as best as I could, plugging up these holes, blocking their potential view of us. Most of the border, was safe to travel in.

I had been up earlier to run down some cheese cloth, we had been out late the previous night at a drumming party; DF had had a full weeks work, so we were getting a late start. This was good planning. Those neighbors have four kids which stay indoors most of summer when it is hot outside. After around 10:30am people tend to stay indoors. We know that the neighbors would not be out roaming, thereby giving our area privacy, by just stay out of sight of those kitchen windows. The neighbors to the west have no concern with our nude predilections, accepting completely the sight of the naked. Our advantage is that our nude bodies are better adapted to the heat and while textiles may hide from discomfort, we actually feel pretty good in that sun, free to roam nude.

We had tongs, two paper grocery sacks, and shoes as equipment to capture the tunas. They vary as to their ripeness, shown to us by color. We left at least one on each pad for the critters who may end up depending on them and in respect for their dependence on the critters to spread seed. {1702 Tunas and needles} We avoided the interior of the patches, just to avoid precarious acrobatic stretches amongst thousands of needles and toward the same sustainable ecological effect. The bounty piled in the bags fast.

WE had to don some coverage as we headed down the property line. I chose a wrap miniskirt like thing and DF slipped a long sleeveless top over, until we found ourselves out of harm’s way just a few minutes later. We had as many tunas as we cared to process in one day.
The air-conditioning and ceiling fan felt chilly after our foray, as we walked through the door.

We began the process by laying out numerous bowls and filtering systems and began production. Mostly, I would pick the buds out with the tongs into a mesh sifter, run water spray over them to clean them of dust and loose needles. The odds of someone peeing on them, etc. was nil and we had just had two strong rains the previous two nights, so this washing was enough. I then filled my blender and ground the whole, seeds and all, into a pasty juice.

Native American flute music played in the background as we methodically focused on our tasks.

Meanwhile, DF strained the pulp with another strainer into a bowl, and then through several layers of cheese cloth. Ultimately, we had several mason jars filled with juice and a container placed into the freezer for something sorbet-like later. The juice begins to ferment relatively quickly. I like to set aside a tad for that. There were seeds burning in the blender during one batch, giving a smoked taste to one jar. That will be a fun experiment. I intend to ferment some of this, too.

After a couple of hours of this, we began lunch. The day would still pleasant for us nudes in the shade we hoped. We wanted to eat out under the porch surrounded with desert view and peace. DF opened the door to check that and was surprised to be greeted by a sprinkling of warm monsoon afternoon rain! This cools the air as the breeze blows lightly through it. This makes the dining area even more inviting for the naked. We carried warm green chili, white cheese, non-GMO corn tamales with fresh steamed spinach lightly coated with a Dijon mustard (not from desert mustard) through the light rain to the porch area. I placed prickly pear/banana smoothies into some thick BEER mugs.

The cool breeze danced over our bodies as the rain picked up. The wonderful smells of a newly moistened desert’s landscape was wonderful and familiar. The relief of rain is always a happy time and that association just doesn’t ever go away. We sat silently meditating this event. In the distance rolling thunder could be heard. In time there was an increase of rain, which came with an increased wind. We watched it falling at 45 degrees around us from the south, our left, as we relaxed on the couch imbibing the magic of it all. It began to splatter upon the glass dining table and the concrete creating a cool mist which engulfed our naked bodies, one side chilled, one side still warm. There was ebb and flow to the intensity of the storm. The direction changed back and forth. SUDDENLY, there was a crinkle and then a tremendous CRACK! DF jumped nearly off of her seating in the flash. Her reaction startled me and in a fraction of a second and we were both afloat with adrenal rushes. That one was very close. It was fun. The whole storm was fun. A towel covered briefly when the chilly spray became too much. Everything felt so much alive.

Being barefoot all over and crossing through the rain to the covered area was a delight. The water puddles along that spot when the downpours increase. Here, the rain is heated by the concrete, which has been heated through the day as the sun baked it. It turned into a shallow bath for feet. Meanwhile the large less warm raindrops splotch onto the rest of the body in a sensual refreshing way. We danced there, moving in blissful attention to it all.
We had left the air conditioner on in the house. Wet, the air was brisk as we entered through the door in contrast. I carried desert out, a bowl of soft organic almonds and cashews. A friend had given us small pears and peaches from their local trees. The storm passed into the distance slowly as we nibbled. The sound of water off of the roof and the tiny trickle of stream beds carrying the fresh rainwater away through the rocks and sand, the day’s heat was gone.

There was reluctance to leave, even more to get dressed, but we managed to head down to the Grateful Dead cover band at The Hut bar and dance together. We walked over to a friend’s grand opening of their new micro-brewery and toured this to more live music. DF tried a saison BEER and me a sarsaparilla. I savored each small sip as it flowed around my tongue and palate as the quality invited. This stuff was special. I was later given a snifter of an equally unique ginger of as high a caliber. It was recommended to add a splash of this to the saison BEER. DF loved that addendum. A couple outside, had a mobile pizza kiln like a traditional Native American adobe oven, which was heated with pecan chips. That was a very nice smoked treat. We then headed over to a Birthday party to jam with drums, banjo and guitars and close out the late night. We were greeting and catching up with friends all along the way. Indeed, very good day.

There is nothing like eating and imbibing local…and particularly naked.

DF gave me some feedback the other day. She thought that in the Penaleno Mountain post that there was too much TMI and my attitude was a bit aggressive. I gave that some thought, as it was aggressive ad undertone of resentment would rise up here and there. Since it is an early post on the site, where I am introduced to some of you, I thought I might explain its context. I am usually less flamboyant.
There has been a website forum that I have been contributing to since the early 2000’s called “The Secret Naturist Society.” It had fifteen years of accumulated posts, a wealth of wisdom and knowledge about naturism, the art of stealth naturism, and much more. It was a great place of camaraderie on the web between a group of “secret” or free range naturists. I had trip reports posted there going back ten years. With all of this, which accumulated for fifteen years, you might imagine the sense of loss that we felt when the site crashed, like a shipwreck our international group of old friends were suddenly all cast adrift.
I found out that a new host had taken over as a buyout of the system. New rules were put in place. These rules demanded no “adult” content. Our naturist forum was deemed “adult.” The two week notification was sent to an email address that was not frequently monitored. Everything was lost.
We washed ashore a few weeks later, at Karla and Stuart’s Free Range Naturism site’s forum. Slowly the crew reassembled and discussed where to go next. There was a general and genuine grief process going on inside of most of us. The site had been a regular part of our lives. It was like a small town having a general store where the locals will congregate around the potbelly stove. It was gone like a tornado had hit.
The fact that it was gone in an unjustified heavy handed fashion and reasoning, made the event even more unpalatable. Our content was not “adult.” It was naturism. The human body is not “adult.” It is natural. It is a part of everyone and anyone no matter what the age. We had been devastated by a very sick attitude manifested in a cold corporate policy. This is something that could happen to any naturist website, the promotion of body freedom, any natural and free expression of an issue important to all humanity could be swept under the carpet and disappear with the first amendment.
So, with this repression, this persecution of my spirit, I was feeling angry. I was feeling defiant. I felt a need to stand up for my human rights and not take it. I felt kind of aggressive and less tolerant that week. As time goes on, you may read my posts from years back and these will attest to a more usual personality.
Perhaps this anger, or sense of injustice, is something that is necessary for all of us to produce action and change. If you remember in that revered flick about Mahatma Gandhi, Ben Kingsley as Gandhi is thrown off of a train in South Africa for being “a darky” in the white section. As he sat there with his bags about him in the dirt, he could have taken many different actions. He turned this energy, which had been presented to him, into the action that he is famous for and upset an entire empire. He could have taken it, accepted it, or sit in his predetermined place. He took an exceptional path instead. Following these passions has made admirable people and great change throughout history. There is a choice to accept, react in a mediocre way, or seize passion.
I was stimulated to create this site that had been brewing inside me. To show others that there is a range of freedom that they hadn’t conceived, a different solution, I’ve accepted my task. I’ve harnessed the energy AND I’m going to have fun with this. When others change their practice and range and their humanity is further liberated, the naturist movement’s momentum will grow. In the meantime, with each post, I’ll feel some justice and freedom.
Incidentally, I’d like to invite you to visit http://www.freerangenaturism.com/index.htm and join in the conversation of the “forum” section. This where I do most of my conversation about this site and free-range naturism as a part of the group. It is informative and fun. I’m Jbee over there.