This morning, I felt a need to turn my desire into action. A need to no longer just think about what a part of me wished I would do. A need to actually do it.
So, saying a prayer, I took off my clothes and opened my bedroom door. I didn’t want to be naked in the privacy of my room anymore.
Making sure I was alone — the other occupants of the house might not approve of me being naked, and naked was, I felt, no state to have such a conversation in — I walked to the living room.
Nudity was reserved for the bedroom or the bathroom. So it was… interesting… to be naked in a room that was neither. Walking around the living room, I felt like I was seeing it with new eyes. I felt like, all my life, I had been wearing a “Clothes Filter,” and now the filter was off: My eyes were as naked as my body.
I was naked this morning because I realized I didn’t want to feel like my nakedness was something I needed to hide. I wanted to not be ashamed to be as God made me. And I felt like, as long as I was in my room behind a closed door, I was.
It was like my body was a candle whose light I had covered with my hands. And now the heat and hot wax was burning my fingers and palms. The candle was telling me “Let my light shine.”
Before going back to my room, I went outside. I stood right in front of my door. Though I didn’t see anyone, I didn’t want to step out into the yard because 1) I didn’t want people to see me, and 2) I didn’t want to have to wash my feet.
It felt wrong, and right, to be naked outside.
Wrong because: I had been taught that nudity was for certain times and certain places, and outside in the morning wasn’t one of them.
Right because: I was in nature in my natural state. I didn’t even mind that it was cold. As soon as I closed the door behind me and looked at the trees in the distance, I thought Oh my gosh. I’m naked outside.
Part of me wanted to go inside. Another part of me wanted to stay outside, breathing in the air and looking at the scenery.
If someone saw me standing in front of my door, I like to think that I wouldn’t mind. I like to think that I would say to them “I am in nature in my natural state. There is nothing indecent about this. This is how God made me. And this is the world that God made.”
Like in the living room, I felt like I was seeing the outdoors with new eyes. And, thus, I felt like I was seeing myself with new eyes. It’s a hard feeling to describe. The best way I know how to describe it is: Do something that you would do clothed, but do it naked. Does doing it feel different now?
On a side note:
Reading the writing of some people who enjoy being naked, I feel like such people see being naked as something they need. Like they can’t be at peace if they don’t take their clothes off from time to time. And, I don’t want to feel like that.
If I feel like I need to be naked, I risk turning my body into an idol. A second God. Instead of saying my morning prayers, I’m taking my clothes off because I’m thinking They’re so confining this isn’t right I want to be free.
To get back on track:
My experience this morning re-affirmed my belief that nakedness is sacred.
Sacred in this way: It is not for all times and all places.
That’s the reason why I have a problem with nudism: A problem with doing everything that I would clothed, with everyone I would do it with, only doing it naked.
When I am naked, I am as God created me. Thus, when I am in such a state, it feels wrong to be doing something as, for lack of a better word, trivial as riding a bike or playing a board game.
I’m not trying to say “I’m better than you” to the people who enjoy doing those things naked. I’m just trying to say: “It doesn’t feel right.”
And, I think I know why it doesn’t feel right:
It doesn’t feel right for the same reason that a naked man and woman, instead of hugging like this…
…do an awkward side hug.
It doesn’t feel right because our naked body ultimately isn’t meant for riding a bike, or sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of a game board, or giving side hugs.
What our naked body is ultimately meant for, is making this happen:
A man shall leave his father and mother and be united to his wife, and the two will become one flesh.