Now I know I'm a Nudist
Something happened while I was at the nude beach yesterday that was so natural that I really didn't think about deeper meanings until today. Well, actually, I thought about it in passing at the moment but it really didn't dawn on me until now.
Yesterday I was at a favorite place of mine to get naked and just enjoy the sun . . . a place that is off-beat and isolated enough that nudity is tolerated. It's one of the coved beaches lining Puget Sound near Bellingham and to get to it you have to hike down a steep bluff and then hike in another half mile or so down the railway tracks. Enough to keep the gawkers and textile-impaired away.
The rocky cove is right next to the railway tracks . . . slightly down from them and it's not unusual for us to wave at the trains that slow down for the curve above the beach as they go by.
Not unusual though I've been somewhat self-conscious in the past and lay down in sheltered areas out of direct sight. Sunday was a little different. I'd spent a good portion of the day there naked and the sun and wind on my skin had me feeling so great that I didn't immediately get dressed for the hike back. Instead, I stood there near the tracks wistfully saying goodnight to the sun low on the horizon over the water. I never heard the 7:20 Amtrak commuter train until it was already passing me.
Normally I would have instinctively covered myself . . . or dropped down to a place less visible. But I didn't. I just stood there fully naked facing the passing windows of the Amtrak passenger service and waving at the people staring out the windows.
So what? Nothing earth-shattering, is there? Well, thinking about it, I had been nude so long that day that it was a natural state for me. That I was nude and in full view of anyone on that train didn't even dawn on me. I stood there and made no instinctive move to cover up and that was a powerful experience. It just seemed natural . . . it didn't even occur to me until afterwards that I'd been standing there naked in front of a bunch of gawking people on the passing trains. I hope I made their day. It made mine.
Yesterday I was at a favorite place of mine to get naked and just enjoy the sun . . . a place that is off-beat and isolated enough that nudity is tolerated. It's one of the coved beaches lining Puget Sound near Bellingham and to get to it you have to hike down a steep bluff and then hike in another half mile or so down the railway tracks. Enough to keep the gawkers and textile-impaired away.
The rocky cove is right next to the railway tracks . . . slightly down from them and it's not unusual for us to wave at the trains that slow down for the curve above the beach as they go by.
Not unusual though I've been somewhat self-conscious in the past and lay down in sheltered areas out of direct sight. Sunday was a little different. I'd spent a good portion of the day there naked and the sun and wind on my skin had me feeling so great that I didn't immediately get dressed for the hike back. Instead, I stood there near the tracks wistfully saying goodnight to the sun low on the horizon over the water. I never heard the 7:20 Amtrak commuter train until it was already passing me.
Normally I would have instinctively covered myself . . . or dropped down to a place less visible. But I didn't. I just stood there fully naked facing the passing windows of the Amtrak passenger service and waving at the people staring out the windows.
So what? Nothing earth-shattering, is there? Well, thinking about it, I had been nude so long that day that it was a natural state for me. That I was nude and in full view of anyone on that train didn't even dawn on me. I stood there and made no instinctive move to cover up and that was a powerful experience. It just seemed natural . . . it didn't even occur to me until afterwards that I'd been standing there naked in front of a bunch of gawking people on the passing trains. I hope I made their day. It made mine.
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