Nudity = Serenity
I am not a nudist.
Yet.
I know, somewhere deeply hidden (or maybe not much) at the back of my mind is the exponentially growing idea that nudity is part of the whole package in which serenity in entirety comes.
This thought was surfaced by the events of this past weekend. I, with some friends, went camping to Naivasha. This was my first ever camping thingy and it was so awesome, it left everyone with an I-wanna-do-it-again feeling. Only next time, we’ll be more prepared. Pillows are one of the great privileges we have but never really think of outside bed, until we go camping to Naivasha and have to sleep on make-shift pillows from clothes (and shoes).
So, that the nudity-equals-serenity idea was borne out of the camping experience is as much as I’ll explain. And no, it wasn’t a nude camp.
Say, maybe in an alternate universe, a realm, you were a nudist. There’s that exhilarating feeling you get when the breeze braces some parts of the body that are never exposed. And what with the fun, the sun, the freedom! Enough said.
I stay unmoved on my idea.
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