As the snow falls gently outside my window this morning, I’m thinking of warmer, sunnier days . . .
My happiest times as a naturist are when I am strolling along a clothing-optional beach or sitting/lying by the lake outside my home, feeling the sun’s rays and the summer breeze caress my body.
It’s all so very natural. It’s all so divine.
I look out at the lake, the view you see above, and the words “houses of the holy” come to mind. Yes, it is indeed “God’s country,” more magnificent than any shrine man can create. In places and times like these, clothes are an aberration, a blasphemy in the presence of pure Mother Nature.
Yet, when I’m basking by the lake enjoying the sights, scents and sounds of the rippling water and the woodland creatures, I am ever aware that I may have to cover up briefly with my towel if canoeists or other boaters should pass by.
But the birds in the trees around me have no such concerns, neither about me nor about the boaters. Life goes on . . . oobla di, oobla da . . .
I am loathe to wear a swimsuit, and only do so when there are people around who might be offended by my nudity. It’s ironic, though: I look so much sexier in my bikini than I do when I am naked — but the prudes have less of a problem with that.
We all need more times like these, when we can be one with nature in our natural states. Which is why it is so important that all the provincial/state and federal parklands, rivers and lakes have designated areas for nudists/naturists.
It is up to us, all nudists/naturists who are already liberated from the textile mentality, to raise awareness of the need for more public spaces where people can get back to the figurative Garden in their natural-born state, if only on some sunny afternoons in the summertime . . . when the living should be easy . . .