While walking down a picturesque trail in Yosemite one morning, my mind wandered and rambled like a flock of wild birds in flight.  A number of promising themes presented themselves but I examined and rejected each one, for I could not rid myself of the nagging feeling that there was yet another hidden gem that my mind would much prefer—if I could find it, that is, for the notion (“when thought roams gracefully free”) proved most elusive despite my best effort to conjure it to the surface.

I decided it was best, then, to let the missing thought remain missing and instead sought a simpler one closer at hand–for it was just then that it occurred to me with startling clarity: I wished to experience being naked in Yosemite!  The weather was sublime,  the park’s remarkable beauty beyond compare, and I myself (despite the growing weight of years) had managed to hang onto enough childlike innocence through my half-century within “the age of reason” to realize that a Yosemite traveler could be naked and happy . . . with no other sinister purpose attached.

That got me to thinking about the social taboo built up around nakedness in general, from Genesis to Hammurabi to the Puritans and all those precedent-setting legal decisions piled high and dear warning against nudity.  Yet, what harm does a naked person really do when you think about it?  Of course, three small objections come to mind:

  • It might sexually excite the viewer . . . but is that not a problem for the viewer and not the viewed?  If that is the only reason, it seems weak compared to the potential joy!
  • “Practical considerations” abound. The police would be compelled to enforce some local ordinance prohibiting public nudity and the naked person advised to clothe or face arrest (to persuade others not to act so foolishly) . . . but that is putting the cart before the horse or the act before the logic.  It does not address the moral question itself, you see, for if society finds it morally permissible for individuals to be naked, then the law’s reason for prohibiting it would fall apart of its own accord and ceases to be a meaningful objection.
  • Theological roots run deep: there are those who believe everyone is a damn sinner; nudity to them is just one more sign of Eve’s cupidity and Adam’s stupidity descended lo! unto us through these many centuries . . . even unto “a modern man” seeking to walk sans clothing in Yosemite Sierra-sweetened mountain clime of the most heavenly breezes and dazzling displays of light and sunshine on earth . . . in short, nakedness is always a sin.

The last point is the heart of the matter, I suppose, unless Americans choose to believe the First Amendment prevents theological-types from pushing their private theology unto other Americans, especially perfect strangers, which I am to them and they to me—but someone who is NOT a stranger to the American love of freedom is Thomas Jefferson.

His great phrase “and the pursuit of happiness” is the most overlooked of his many eloquent expressions found in our country’s birth certificate: The Declaration of Independence.

I suddenly realized while walking past forests, lakes, and meadows that I would be perfectly happy walking while naked and that such happiness is actually guaranteed me in our country’s greatest proclamation!  Who gave me the right to think these happiness thoughts?  No less a luminary than Thomas Jefferson!!

Ever a man of action, I resolved to find a secluded place to disrobe—which didn’t take long since all that remained was a pair of shorts.  I walked on quite satisfied feeling the light breezes upon all areas of my skin, allowing nature to use my body as an artist uses a palette–one to apply myriad rainbow mixes of color and the other nature’s own paintbrush: all the nuanced variations of wind and light and sun the five senses are capable of appreciating—with indescribable pleasure given the unimaginably rich blessings of Nature.  How much richer the sense of freedom and happiness!

While thus engaged in similar idea-wanderings attached to this nudity-can-be-fun perspective, I stumbled upon that missing thought so earnestly sought at the beginning of my journey.

Having satisfied my curiosity in exploring the “walking naked in Yosemite” motif as far as it was likely to take me, I happily switched to my original thought intended to accompany me as a trustworthy “walking-companion” . . .

(“when thought roams gracefully free of the trammels of precision”)

and sauntered merrily on, realizing that a person’s happiness can be satisfied in so many ways: we are blessed with a multitude of magnificent choices as enriching as they are innocent . . .

insofar as true happiness among fellow Yosemite lovers is concerned!

FOR MUIR, WHENEVER WE MAY MEET

Naked in Yosemite

Roger the Writer

Camp Curry Yosemite National Park

August 11, 2011