Countdown T Minus...

Less than 48 hours one can find me on the East Coast and vacationing.

I got an e-mail from one of my Minnesota friends, though I don't know him, but you know what I mean. Anyway, this guy simply said he was also heading to the festival. In an attempt to not do this travelling completely alone and end up loving like the tourist I'll be, I asked of his travel plans. I had hoped we could meet at the airport to chat a bit. Then there'd only be about 199 strangers.

No luck,  he said he planned to fly in then drive rather than take the party bus available. Guess I'll meet him with all the rest...  or maybe I'll just hide in the pool hoping someone talks to me.

Vacation Planning

Two days of work left before my long-awaited vacation.

I tend to have friends who are a lot better at being social than I am. These men are able to at least pretend never to be intimidated in a social setting. They never assume, as I do, that they are unwelcome or that other people would simply continue life without them. They seem to almost - almost - believe their presence is a good thing for everybody. I tend to assume the opposite.

This tendency will make for one very boring vacation where the whole point,  in my mind,  is to meet, and befriend, as many of the 200 - or so - men that are expected to go to this thing. I envy my friends their constant distracting relationships, text messages, and phone calls. Some never actually get caught up with everyone before they have to start over with the next round of incoming news.

So,  I've been considering going against type this coming week and being as obnoxiously gregarious as I can muster. Would it help if I attempted to introduce myself to everyone I could corner? If I introduced myself and asked to take a pic of us for my post-vacation slide show, would people just find me odd and a nuisance? Or could I embody a spirit of exuberant sociability that would help everyone have more fun?

Biggest question, of course...  could I maintain such an attitude without succumbing to the voice in my head that KNOWS I'm not really wanted?

Shikantaza Sans Stripes

A single blade of grass is a clear glass of water is common imagery used in Buddhist meditation. I promise not to get too deeply into the symbolism nor the liturgical practices of Buddhism itself,  but rather it's relation to naturism in my limited world-view.

Tonight I prepared a simple meal for a friend. Spaghetti marinara, especially jarred sauce by Ragu, strains the culinary skills of only this friend which justified the effort during my otherwise lazy Saturday. Preparing the already prepared meal brought to mind another lesson from my teachers; that of eating food without adding spices. Oatmeal was the dish of the lesson and the very act of adding milk,  sugar, and other flavors to an already perfectly edible and flavorful meal should pause any practitioner with such intent.

The whole point of Buddhist liturgy is aimed to make the practitioner more aware of the world around them as it is rather than how they would like it to be. The very act of desire causes disappointment and accepting the world for what it is allows one to appreciate the joys already present, yet often overlooked in a mad rush to specific goals that may not be achievable.

The concept of the interconnectedness of all things is another tenant of the practice. One famous teacher goes so far as to teach all things, all activities,  are an expression of the very practice followers desire... that helps eliminate the idea of a goal if I have already achieved it. 

Every major religion, and a few not so major,  I have studied over the last twenty years seems to stress simplicity, humility, and an appreciation of the world around us as guides of how life is to be lived as happily as possible. They also go on to point out that if one can maintain a consistent practice one can achieve the happiness promised in the texts - in other words, if one internalizes the teachings and lives the life described as ideal then one is perfection incarnate and lives a life of naked truth.

I'm finding the tenants of naturism to be similar, whether a practitioner follows other religious activities or not.  One expresses humility in Western culture by shedding the clothing ment to cover shame... never a concept I've bought into; reduces the complexity of the need to match socks and shirt; and forces a practitioner to view the world in an unaccustomed manner by removing nonverbal signals of fashion... hopefully encouraging one to see things as they are rather than how one wants them to be.

Following this,  it shouldn't surprise anyone when some naturists bring an association with the natural world into their practice. If I begin to view the ordinary differently and can no longer rely on my preconceived notions of what "nature" looks like (ie. vertical stripes are slimming) then I might just start to notice other things long overlooked. The breeze has always blown across my body, the sunshine has always warmed my skin, and the water has always flowed over my buttocks when I swim.  Yet I feel it more when I'm nude. I'm more aware of all that contact with my skin.

If all things are an expression of Buddhist practice then naturism also is. Shikantaza is the fancy way of saying "just sitting".  I wonder how the old teachers would describe "just being nude"? A simplified state,  not only of attire but of world-view. Granted, personalities still shine through. I've yet to find a way to no longer wear unwanted aspects, and it would be interesting to attend some silent event to remove even more of "ourselves" to see what still remains.

Couldn't have said it better myself

Scrolling through the WordPress feed,  I came across this post.

Since cheeky sarcasm is one of my favorite passtimes and I can't decide between Mark Twain or Oscar Wilde as a bigger hero and I cannot think of any way to improve upon the language used by this author,  I'll simply post the link for you all to read. Enjoy, and remember Aristotle's comments on an unexamined life.

http://thoughtcatalog.com/nicole-mullen/2014/07/gay-men-need-to-stop-being-the-bigoted-caricature-i-have-of-them-in-my-head/

I Got Nothin'

Once again, this last weekend, I spent time with my friends in Minneapolis. Apparently my name is becoming associated with the white-space-filler the club's newsletter editor uses instead of advertising.  I suppose that means I owe my friends some lost revenue.

Some people complimented me on these episodes of lucidity, argued against its drivel-esque qualities, and even feigned excitement for the next installment. Perhaps personalizing personality portions preceded posting, pride precluded prudence.  I immediatly announced to the mailing list my plans for vacation in two weeks and promised to upload barely intelligible activity reports.

All this presented an interesting challenge... what to post next.  Well, I got nothin'.

One of my friends has a far more interesting story to tell about his weekend and the excitement he enjoyed than I've got about mine. Sadly, I was too preoccupied and exhausted from driving on so little sleep (a poorly planned combination) to be as social as I would have liked at either of the parties I attended last Saturday.  I suppose I could repeat the professional critics' poor reviews of the movie we watched together or make some clichéd commentary about the naturists' love of all weather (it rained) but none of that would be worth reading.

Perhaps what may be interesting, to some, is the apparent normalization of these events in my life to the point of actually growing bored for a few moments while being in a house with nearly 100 nude & gay men. Perhaps the real story of my weekend is the mere possibility of finding myself restless in such a idyllic situation. Only 1970's porn could convey a more perfect situation for any homosexual than to be surrounded by other homosexuals in an absolute state of undress. Of course, the porn would have depicted us all with side burns, furry chests, massive erections, and in states of melodramatic ecstasy.

I've commented before that I think the anxiety one feels in the first moments of a social nudist event is the same anxiety anyone feels during the first moments of any social event. The only difference being the amplification of those feelings due to the stigma placed on nudity as being equal to a state of shame... such as Adam and Eve covering themselves before the wrath of God.

Does it not follow then, given my amazing inability to socialize effectively with my peers, that I would eventually run out of those generous enough to initialize conversation with me and find myself, once again, among the flowers along the wall while those with enviable skill should kiss a stranger fully on the mouth before an audience of dozens?

A former lover of mine once contemplated moving to Chicago for a better life then chose against it and the irrational hope his problems would not follow. So too I now find some of my expectations - just because I'm nude and have yet another reason to dig deep into my reserves of self-confidence does not mean I can change the fundamentals of my personality. Unfortunately,  I am socially awkward. I find people, in general, frightening and difficult to predict yet I also have an external focus of validation requiring me to seek approval from others. Placing myself in the midst of social nudity is either brave or insane, depending on how this all plays out.

The first event this weekend was officially for new members, but while I failed to meet any of them prior or during, it was only at the more intimate gathering of men to see a recently released film that I took notice of people new to the group. Three men seemed obviously unnerved yet I heard only one of them give voice to his anxiety while another took more decisive action. I can think of many reasons, both noble and otherwise,  for my protective impulse when I witnessed this and wisely did I refrain from action. No one attending had any legitimate reasons for shyness or shame. All posessed the same basic forms, the same basic abilities to manuvuer, articulate their thoughts, and express their emotions within the limits of society's accepted moray.

Perhaps at upcoming events I should compile anecdotes from the men attending of their anxieties. Since an old hat, such as myself - able to be un-entertained after only three weekends - can still be uneasy during the first minutes of each event, perhaps I'll find the even older hats to have similar disquiet. Perhaps the bravado of certain internet personalities is mearly the same effort at acting as I, myself, have performed on occation. Maybe repeating those stories here would help even one person face their anxiety with more knowledge in its commonality than before. (Though surely both of my readers have heard it all before.)

I just hope my Captain Save-A-Stray cape doesn't clash with my reporter's fedora.

What happens if a snowflake falls into a pile of shit?

It seems America is invested yet again in a campaign for individuality.  We seem to want to all be snowflakes in the midst of the blizzard of life, unique and special (or more special) compared to everyone around us.

For time immemorial, children have strove to differentiate themselves from their parents.  Teenage rebellion is the most obvious expression of this but we really try to bend the world to our personal whim from birth.  Any new parents will tell you that babies only days old have learned to manipulate them.  Crying with varying intensities and emotional overtones clue the parents into what the child wants.  Some babies sleep through the night, others cat-nap for months.  Parents being subject to actually caring about their children have a tendency to please the child at every turn, further teaching the child that manipulation works wonderfully.

The Terrible Twos are another period in which a child finds the word "no" a fascinating exercise in exploitation.  Just how long can one be belligerent and not face consequences?  Just how mean is too mean? And the best of all, how much of this world is MINE?"

So off we go to daycare, or preschool, or kindergarten and meet other sociopaths who also try to manipulate us in turn.  The very shock of the experience burns the first day into the memories of many people.  Taunts, teasing, and outright bullying occur almost from day one when a child enters into the social sphere since each child is trying to manipulate the world around them to create pleasant experiences.

Some of this push-back teaches a child to moderate their expectations of the world's ability to provide entertainment and pleasure.  However, sometimes it just doesn't get through the thick skulls of some people who then grow up for years without realizing they are owed nothing and are only special to those who think they are special.  Sadly, I believe we're finally witnessing the deaths of an entire generation of people who have learned they are snowflakes to be appreciated with awe.

The notion that we are all unique is laughably arrogant and self-indulgent.  There is not one action I've ever done in my life that is unique to me and there are millions of people throughout history who have done the exact same thing, for the exact same reasons in reaction to the exact same circumstances.

Yet we want to feel special so we make attempts to teach our children to appreciate their own "unique" blend of personality, skill, and aptitude as they engage in the world around them.  This can be healthy for everyone, child and adult, for many reasons of niceness-exchange and expressions of love.  This can also be exceedingly unhealthy.

For example, we teach our children (or encourage our adult peers) to "be themselves."  Ok, cute sentiment.  But what do we actually mean when we say this?  What if themselves is narcissistic, destructive, and manipulative?  Anyone who has taken even one semester of psychology or sociology, or has cared for someone who is mildly sick (a common cold, for instance) will know this is one side of our basic personality.  Being attentive, altruistic, and empathetic may also be there in equal measure, but a person under stress isn't going to donate their estate on a whim to the hungry fellow who just stole his filet mignon.

Do we continue our campaign of self-actualization and personal honesty when the truth is ugly?  Do we accept that a bully is mean but forgive his excess with encouragement that he (or equally often, she) be true to themselves?  What if a painting by your good friend is utterly lacking in any artistic merit, do we continue to encourage the proliferation of bad art to appease the ghost of Dr. Benjamin Spock?

I'm all for remaining humble enough to acknowledge I'm not ever in a place to judge another's behavior too harshly, (one quick Google search would render my opinion on almost every topic ever inadmissible in any court of plebes) but I do see the pendulum swinging too far in the other direction.  No one should think they are special and unique in the face of human history and endeavours.  Someone, somewhere, at some time has already has every idea that any of us can possibly consider revolutionary.  Reinventing the wheel is not an honorable pursuit in life, and perhaps we should reconsider supporting such reiteration of redundant repetition.

Twinkies are not Ding Dongs

I took a friend to a nude pool party.  Normally this would require no further explanation, nor would it be noteworthy to warrant an entry into this journal.  However, this particular friend is unusual in my life as his age is roughly half of mine.  A chronological difference that is immediately striking within the Community and comes with all manner of bias.

I met this man relatively recently, as one would expect as if I were to say years ago you may assume some babysitting duties to have been involved, and we have grown incredibly close incredibly fast to the point of - but not crossing - that of a romantic relationship.  At least that's how I see it though I have embarrassingly little experience with healthy friendships... being the emotional extremist that I am.

To the point:  My pride with this weekend started two-fold - I could introduce this attractive young man to my more aged friends and receive the socially expected "atta-boy" for being anything other than on object of ridicule to someone of such new mint, and I could share with a friend the joy I have gained from indulging in a social-nudist activities.  Both of these points of pride were achieved, and both of my interests in sharing this event with him were treated.

What I found interesting, beyond watching someone I love relish the day and know he will remember the party for a long time to come, was the very bias I had hoped to exploit.  Mildly shameful, I also realized I harbored these very same preconceptions of which I sat accusing my friends.

In this society, we assume - rightly or otherwise - that with age comes wisdom.  While I'm sure I could name a minimum of two Presidents and a handful of evangelists of advanced years to prove this point false, the by-and-large could be said to maintain reason.  The young, even those who've achieved the age of majority, are assumed to be rash, foolish, and under-educated in the real matters of life.  These very stereotypes are a few of the reasons I suggested a naked pool party in the first place; my more pragmatic, logical, and degreed brothers had no interest in such frivolity.

The very questions about our relationship I expected to surface did so with regularity and my answers were scripted during the drive out to Minnesota, though I would have imagined myself highly praised by many if I could have answered with embellishment.

The questions and commentary I was not expecting nor for which I was prepared involved the prejudice against the young.  More than once I corrected my friends when they absentmindedly referred to him as a "kid" and had to subdue my urge to play a protective roll out of some misplaced parental assumption of his ability to socialize effectively with adults.  Even his own assumptions led to mildly daring feats of courage which he accomplished haltingly.

Yet, in watching him deftly handle his own modesty, his own fear, and manage to place himself an equal among peers I was again proud.  In listening him navigate conversation with complete strangers who he knew had unflattering opinions of him I was in awe.  He is a man of knowledge and skill to be able to not only commit to attending the party in the first place, but a man of broadly practiced socialization I could only wish to emulate.  Not once did I hear him falter under the weight of expectations of the wiser nor attempt the humiliatingly ineffective ploy of speaking with greater knowledge than he possessed.

There were moments I was reminded of my own assumptions, there were moments the assumptions of others were laid bare, and there were moments when stereotypes became the brunt of the jokes they actually attempt to hide... and sadly, I reverted to such prejudice during conversations after this education; infantilizing a man I respected as superior mere moments before.

In editing this entry, this friend asked that I amend the post with a defense of his efforts.  I find this unnecessary for several reasons.  One of which is the obviousness of such a defense.  Of course, he is trying to do the right things, be the best he can be, and acknowledges his errors.  I know of only a few people who don't, and they're foolishly unrepentant whilst paying their debts to society.  Willful ignorance and laziness tend to couple with those without many other attractive qualities... namely, being nice to others.

Another reason I find this defense unnecessary is his apparent lack of appreciation for what he has accomplished in his life.  I think back to the days when I was his age and choke on the dismal decisions I made.  I look around my social scene and watch men several years older struggle to grasp the very notions of responsibility and accountability and loyalty and balance.  For he who has not only realized the necessity but planned and executed actions that will lead to a honorable life, I tip my hat... then weep jealously.