There is nothing like being nude in the outdoors. It's difficult to express the feeling of sunshine or wind or rain or a warm breeze as a full experience on the whole body. It's the kind of thing that one really must experience for oneself.
In my experience, I would describe it as feeling more alive. It is an exercise in mindfulness. It reminds me that I am part of this Earth, that I am of the Earth, not detached from it. It gets me out of the busy headspace that is going and doing and being all of the ways that I'm usually going about. It focuses me. Reattaches me. It is a sacred space for me, one that calms the chattering voices in my head and reminds me to breathe slowly and deeply.
Sure, part of that is being down by the water: hearing the gently lapping waves against the shoreline, watching the ducks and geese swim by and the eagle swoop overhead, seeing the breeze move through the trees and the mountains rise up in the distance. But sensorily, all of that is heightened when I become fully a part of it, not separated, but integrated.
I lie on the damp ground and feel the coolness of the earth through my blanket on my belly and the heat of the sun on my back. I take time to read, to visit quietly with friends, to splash and play in the water with them as we toss the beach ball around. I find that the nude-beach people are generally a relaxed bunch. The beach is secluded, there's no partying, no vendors, not much noise. The intermingling of voices engaged in quiet conversations wafts over the grass and can create a low hum that is positively relaxing.
Beach people are good people. People who take time out of their day to gather around a common need to reintegrate with nature, to quiet the mind, and to be fully present. It is a sacred, humble space and one for which I am deeply grateful. It is a balm to my soul.
This post is part 3 of 4 in a series on nudity. In the next post, I'll talk more about the body as art.