I remember when my 8 year old son came home terrified of the kitchen counter. I seriously mean “terrified.” Germs! The most contagious, vile, slimy, gross, dangerous pile of germs on the planet can be found on a kitchen counter! He had been taught in school and larned (sic) it well. As I stood making dinner, he stood keeping his distance.
I’ve been studying microbiome the last few weeks. It is germs. Trillions of them, we are ten times more germs than genetic material, in these bodies, which are 60% water. Water has memory. A study found that after a run of anti-biotics the microbiome was still disturbed, six months later. A bunch of doctors are pointing to studies and making conclusions.
The natural interfaces with our world have been disrupted and guess what has been in the way?
Sun’s going down between the trees. We ate earlier today to align with the sun’s light and warmth. I’m lying in the pink canvas hammock feeling satisfied, looking up at the canopy of evergreen trees. The sun has gotten lower in the sky and light shoots through the deep forest. I’m fascinated by the golden green light. There are streaks of golden green color and the glitter of sap on pine needles. Below, in some places, the glowing grass looks much the same, like a reflection of the canopy. The pine needles high above spike out almost crystalline against a deep grey in the azure sky.
Up at 10,000 ft. the dark depth of space tints the bright turquoise. There’s a deeper more infinite depth than I’m used to. I’ve been noting spots of it while looking up and out through trees opening along the road’s route in of the forest and then when standing in the open Great Field.
We’re just back from what might have been a short walk after dinner, but one thing leads to another and it extended to a three mile exploration around the great field. We have rambled through the forest, which looks like enchantment decorated by pine, aspen and spruce, with a plethora of smaller treasures along the way. This is our story:
Whah da? Squirrels!?! I recently read on the internet that these feisty rambunctious critters “were once the most popular pet in America…Throughout the 1700s and 1800s, they were viewed as ideal pets for children…One even made it to the White House as President Warren G. Harding’s pet. A photograph from 1922 published in the Library of Congress shows the 29th President kissing the squirrel on its cheek as the animal cuddles toward him affectionately….”
“The attraction to them as pets was reserved mostly for the upper class, since they had more time and money to spare. Adorable pictures from the 18th-century show high-class children were posing with their squirrels kept by their sides on gold leashes. Benjamin Franklin is even credited for writing the eulogy of a friend’s squirrel that was bitten by a dog in 1722, saying, ‘Few squirrels were better accomplished, for he had a good education, had traveled far, and seen much of the world. Thou art fallen by the fangs of wanton, cruel Ranger!’”
During other visits to the White Mountains, about a mile away at the spring, we have been harassed by belligerent squirrels. As I walked through the forest, out to enjoy a pleasant barefoot all over spiritual oneness experience, several sat just above me in the trees, chattering, seemingly threatening me. It appeared territorial. A nut fell behind me. After evaluating my position, I didn’t feel threatened, but their tone was amazingly vehement.
Still, all of my life, it has always been a treat to watch squirrels play their games and display their agility.
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.
