Posts Tagged With: writing

Picard Connects

The Starship Enterprise has just landed on Earth in the year 2063, while chasing and destroying a Borg ship. Both have transferred back in time to get there. In a missile silo, they have contact with an old spaceship, one that Picard has seen at the Smithsonian centuries later. He places his hand upon the metal outer sheathing.

Data (the man made man): Sir, does tactile contact alter your perception of the Phoenix?

Captain Picard: For humans touch can connect you to an object in a very personal way, Make it seem more real.

Data gives touch a try in his usual curiosity.

(“Star Trek VIII: First Contact”)

Touch does make something real. There can even be a compulsion to reach out and touch someone. People get touched emotionally. People pinch themselves to make sure that they are not dreaming.

Touch is our nature and our birthright. When we touch and are touched by the world, the world feels more alive and real.

By just removing clothing, the entire experience of the planet becomes greater. To step into water nude, or to feel a gentle breeze across the entirety of the body, the heat of the sun, and to be entertained with all of the associations, the messages and knowledge of the moment through the body and sensitivity of the organ called the skin, we are more alive. Again, this is a birthright. To take this away is a wrong.

The holidays are making time difficult to find, so as to publish the stories of our journey through the Manti La Sal National Forest. Progress has been made, although slowed, but sure. The photo is from that drive. A passing cloud is felt, as well as seen.

 I am on the forum of FreeRangeNaturism.com often, if you would like to converse.

© The owners of TheFreeRangeNaturist.org as of the year 2015 declare. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this site’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to TheFreeRangeNaturist.org with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.   

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Hunting turkey

Bears Ears #34

06-06- 2024

The animals around here in these mountains are not so jittery nervous. We first noticed the deer’s behavior as we found a great camping spot and her pal’s attitude as he browsed the through our campsite the next morning. They trust us and I feel like that is something to respect. We share this place, as a kind of fellowship.

This morning, as I sit at camp, a curious squirrel comes up the road, stopping maybe 20 feet from my chair. It sits up on hind legs. A fluffy mass of tail, seemingly as big as the rodents entire body, whisk in serpentine circles in and out. It looks as if curiously weighing the notion to see what the truck, stove and other objects are about.  Around here, they look similar to the Arizona mountain squirrels, but the ears don’t have the comb-like flags at the tips. These critter’s triangle ears are tight symmetrical fur, arranged like a G.I. crewcut, square straight lines, lean. Its silver form takes off in a gallop from where it came from, playing with others down the road. I have been watching them comically gallivant there for a while.

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Acceptance

Friday June 20th 2025 opens up with my eye lids.  I find myself back in the mountain forest under blue skies. Last night’s smell of smoke is gone, replaced by a sense of clarity. All is seen through the net tent, as the sun is getting us up, out and about, acting like a parent sending us off to school. We conked out last night early. A glance at a cell phone tells us that we have slept for more than 12 hours. “How’d we do that?”

“Maybe there actually are fairies with magic powders in the woods.”

“Huh?” “Better check on your pot of gold!”

It is day, everything is telling me, actually shouting at me, the message about the displacement of the calm and peace of the night. I hear the wind blowing high in the trees above, and nearby, the rustling leaves of the young aspen that are determined to someday populate this field of short grasses and dainty flowering greens.

I climb out of the tent stiffly, making my way to my appointment. I find the route through the brush to the office, a pleasant spot that is still slumbering in deep shadows.

As I stand, I notice nibbles on my calves and ankles. Those Utah no-see-ums flash out of my memories. My mind grinds out, “If so, we’re movin’.” But they seem to prefer the shade…

…I sit fully naked in my folding chair, absorbing the warmth of the morning sun, dusty Earth on the soles of my bare feet. There are occasional critters that I launch with a flick of my finger. A fly stops by, I’m thinking, “just to irritate me.” I breathe in, puff my cheeks and then blow out directly at it. It is gone, done with me. I’m reminded, I take note to brush my teeth, swish some water, re-hydrate.

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Voltaire on Nakedness

I had some clearing out to do, when I found some old papers, printouts from the early internet. From David Icke E Magazine, I’d printed an article out on December 31st, 2000, a year after the millennia computer crash silliness, probably from a Web TV, or something. It was titled “Nudity” by Voltaire.

I had to investigate. Was this real? After a search of “nudity”, I found Voltaires’ Philosophical Dictionary, a treatise of his writings, but only under the title “nakedness.” The famous philosopher actually wrote this back in the 1700’s.

An Image of Voltaire’s Nude Statue

From: Voltaire’s Philosophical Dictionary

NAKEDNESS

Why should one lock up a man or a woman who walked stark naked in the street? and why is no one shocked by absolutely nude statues, by pictures of the Madonna and of Jesus that may be seen in some churches?

It is probably that the human species lived long without being clothed.

People unacquainted with clothing have been found in more than one island and in the American continent.

The most civilized hide the organs of generation with leaves, woven rushes, feathers.

Whence comes this form of modesty? is it the instinct for lighting desires by hiding what it gives pleasure to discover?

Is it really true that among slightly more civilized nations, such as the Jews and half-Jews, there have been entire sects who would not worship God save by stripping themselves of all their clothes? such were, it is said, the Adamites and the Abelians. They gathered quite naked to sing the praises of God: St. Epiphanius and St. Augustine say so. It is true that they were not contemporary, and that they were very far from these people’s country. But at all events this madness is possible: it is not even more extraordinary, more mad than a hundred other madnesses which have been round the world one after the other.

We have said elsewhere that to-day even the Mohammedans still have saints who are madmen, and who go naked like monkeys. It is very possible that some fanatics thought it was better to present themselves to the Deity in the state in which He formed them, than in the disguise invented by[Pg 223] man. It is possible that they showed everything out of piety. There are so few well-made persons of both sexes, that nakedness might have inspired chastity, or rather disgust, instead of increasing desire.

It is said particularly that the Abelians renounced marriage. If there were any fine lads and pretty lasses among them, they were at least comparable to St. Adhelme and to blessed Robert d’Arbrisselle, who slept with the prettiest persons, that their continence might triumph all the more.

But I avow that it would have been very comic to see a hundred Helens and Parises singing anthems, giving each other the kiss of peace, and making agapæ.

All of which shows that there is no singularity, no extravagance, no superstition which has not passed through the heads of mankind. Happy the day when these superstitions do not trouble society and make of it a scene of disorder, hatred and fury! It is better without doubt to pray God stark naked, than to stain His altars and the public places with human blood.

I am on the forum of FreeRangeNaturism.com often, if you would like to converse.

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Some More Thoughts

One may ask me, “Why are you so obsessed with being naked?” My usual response is “Ask yourself why you are clothed. Could that be an obsession?” Nude is the default position. Clothing is an additive. This justifies my lifestyle, but why is it such an important issue to me?

After spending several days acceptably nude, it is most common to notice that putting on clothing, just to be socially acceptable, is physically confining, bunched up, hot, evidently unnatural and often, actually uncomfortable.

Unless I get overwhelmed by cold, I don’t need anything to supplement my natural bodily ability for homeostasis. The body, the mind, the whole system adjusts as a complete system. It is quite complex, an ancient natural gift adapted to adept. It is honed and amazing. The freer that it is to do its job, the better it works.

I am my body and also, there is more. Something essential is lost in clothing. The joy of nudity is lost, but something more than clothing is taken away. In my skin, I’m in touch with the world around me, all senses are more aware and I’m more integrated. This aligns with and supports a more natural place, or sense of being. It opens the pathways to other senses in a unified natural activity of awareness and body.

Other senses are felt about the body, such as, I have a greater sense of well-being. I have a deeper sense of being a part of something quite amazing, even oneness. If one just tries free range naturism and is simply being aware; there is a generally obvious observation, which can expand into more in time.

This is another short post, something that I wrote a while back. There simply isn’t enough time these couple of weeks to sit down, take a complete day and finish the complex continuation, or the finale of either of the two story directions that we are flowing toward.  Please, give time time as it unfolds.

 I am on the forum of FreeRangeNaturism.com often, if you would like to converse.

© The owners of TheFreeRangeNaturist.org as of the year 2015 declare. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this site’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to TheFreeRangeNaturist.org with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

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EveryBody

I once had a conversation with an ex-forest Service member that I was dating. She told me how back in the day, when working in groups in the wilderness for days at a time, she and her cohorts, had had a skinnydip. They had become less formal, had developed trust. She related how she and others had ended up walking for miles and days, happily and practically, attired nude. No problem was seen, by this.

I have also had conversations with passing forest workers, when myself and companion were nude. It happens. It is natural. Many apparently innately understand nature and naturism’s bonds.

They go hand in hand. It’s natural. Edward Abbey relates. Here is an excerpt form his book,  Desert Solitaire: A Season in the Wilderness: A Celebration of the Beauty of Living in a Harsh and Hostile Land.

He has a day off from the Forest Service and has climbed from the Utah desert into the high snowcaps:

“The wind stops, completely, as I finish my lunch. I strip and lie back in the sun, high on Tukuhnkivats, with nothing between me and the universe but my thoughts. Deliberately I compose my mind, quieting the febrile buzzing of the cells and circuits, and strive to open my consciousness directly, nakedly to the cosmos. Under the influence of cosmic rays I try for cosmic intuitions—and end up earthbound as always, with a vision not of the universal but of a small and mortal particular, unique and disparate. . . her smile, her eyes in firelight, her touch.

Well, let it be. You’ll find no deep thinkers at 13,000 ft. anyway. The wind comes up again, I get to my feet and dance along the cornice of a snowbank that hangs above the void. Down there in the forest, somewhere, my camp, my old truck, my fireplace—home. I look for a quick and easy way to return,

The climb up from timberline had taken about two hours. Looking down at the graceful curve of the thousand-foot snowfield it seems that the descent should not require more than five minutes. I put on my clothes, shoulder the rucksack and work down over the rock to the couloir and the upper end of the slide.”

We naked people are not alone. Everyone is a naturist, they just don’t all know it…yet.

I am on the forum of FreeRangeNaturism.com often, if you would like to converse.

© The owners of TheFreeRangeNaturist.org as of the year 2015 declare. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this site’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to TheFreeRangeNaturist.org with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

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Growing Up Confused

Our cultures teach in overt and subtle ways. The lessons learned don’t always serve us well. It can be difficult to escape the ingrained. Perhaps you’ll find this relatable.

I grew up being taught that unclothed was sexually stimulating. I grew up being taught that my casual nudity as a child was insignificant, but not wearing clothing was naughty. I was taught that we must conform to social norms, which were even more extreme back then. Women were wearing white gloves and males of all ages were in suit and tie. All were acting a part, when shopping and even visiting in each other’s homes.

It was naughty to be naked when the parents weren’t watching. It was liberating and titillating. By the time that I no longer needed a babysitter, feeling secretly naked was done doing cartwheels.

Images of forbidden nudity increased its sexuality, yet living in Paris, with its art, or Follie Berger, I was receiving an incongruent message.

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The Actual Fish Mouth

Bears Ears XXIII

2024-05-31

For Pizza:

We’re about to leave civilization again, Blanding, Utah. We have waited all day for the mobile wood fired pizza trailer to exude the aroma of a classy tasty slice, or two, or three.

There is no seating for this restaurant. We’re sitting on the door stoop of a nameless building, a hollow store with windows that reveal only a waiting opportunity for a mercantile idea. The evening sun beams in, exposing old dusty carpet and a path leading to dark shadows beyond.

Before us, framed by old sidewalk concrete, sits a typical flat oil soaked cardboard carton, Americana, with the familiar golden color of roasted baked cheese.

Soon, a fitting notion of appropriate desert will find us around the corner at the end of a too slow line for a chocolate covered frozen banana.

Earlier that day, there was some quick business finding the proper common tool at one of the best stocked Ace Hardware ever. Right next door happens to be the ice-cream shop. DF indulges my gluttony now and then, as I falter at the consumption of a rather larger than expected bucket of Huckleberry, she helps me out with a very small plastic spoon. Civilization is tempting.

We had spent the afternoon wandering in a wonderful dinosaur museum. After those encounter’s with ancient tracks in the bedrock, we have found another aspect of history to be fascinated with. It is fun.

The prehistoric critters are stunningly huge.

A flying bug’s remnants look enough to have ability to carry off anything that a large raptor might.

We had expected less, but the place is quite serious and we now have more valuable information to apply to our walkings. We leave with a better sense and understanding of the terrain that we are visiting.

We are leaving, going into raw nature, after a couple of days of nice small town people, pleasant  tidy newish homes on incredibly wide streets and its one intersection light, a four way stop. We pass our refuge with its hot water showers and chilled fruit flavored Pellegrino and then that ominous sign warning a foreboding 121 miles to the next services.

In contrast to the comfort of the community, there is a sense of adventure, freedom and health on this, the open highway. As we cruise, we wriggle out of our protection against the consequences of uniform conformity. From opened windows, the dry air circulates around us, sensually cooling and caressing, as bare skin adapts. A barrier is lifted allowing natural symbiosis, an intimate mutualism in a close reunion.

We find a campsite perhaps a mile across a valley from where, tomorrow, will be our morning’s first hike.

The big cave, looking as if an open fish mouth, looms in the distance. We have a light healthy snack and climb into our cozy open air cocoon when the sky turns dark. Another short reading out loud to each other of Edward Abbey’s “Desert Solitaire” and we drop off, during a last look up at the blanket of stars.

Beginning:

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