Naked To Nurture Naked, To Nurture

Naked to Nurture. Naked, to Nurture. Why not naked into woods? We yank up gumboots. Enshroud our piggies in wicking and itching sockbags. Hoping to holdfast against the forfeiture of bought heat. The city slickers in their shiny slickers clasp and buckle, zip and bundle before they trudge and trundle into the Great Unlabeled, the alien birthright. An undershirt, a tank, a tee, and then an overthing! And this in Spring, in Summer. Winter's another thickening: strappings wrapping trappings, coalgulable clottings clogging scarf-shrouded and unceremonious cerements. The gloves, if cold or wet. The hat and muffs, if blustering. We insulate ourselves from the uninsulated. Remove ourselves from that which we aim to enter. To re-enter. To be received by. Naked as we came, now at our peril, apparently apparelled in unparalleled antiferalelry. Each civilized entrant into sylvan realms- textile banished for fear of cold, for fear of wet, for fear of dirt. The mind must first give up its notions of propriety to hope to slake the self in the sunlit and secreted shimmerings of sanctity. Be bare of sole, skin to wind. Be bare of soul, Yin to begin. Why not naked into woods? they do, so certainly, come naked... into us.