The Carolinian Trail

September 12, 2000

First published on the now-defunct website, Themestream, as an essay, "Reconciling body and spirit."

Ontario has had a damp, moderate summer, so the past week of sweltering humidity has come as a surprise. Another surprise is the flu which has kept me practically housebound for the duration. Believing some fresh air and sunlight might help, I hauled my aching limbs down to the riverside park one morning.

The woods simmered in the hot wet of an overnight rain. But a slight breeze stirred the leaves. I unbuttoned the front of my shirt to catch as much of this refreshment as I could.

I had brought a backpack with my notebook and pen in case I felt inclined to sit somewhere and write. The bag on my shoulder pulled one side of the shirt back to expose my breast.

For some reason this felt rude and awkward, though in midsummer I've thought nothing of strolling through the park shirtless. Guelph is the very city where Gwen Jacobs in 1991 walked topless to protest inequality. Convicted of indecency, she launched an appeal and was acquitted in 1996. In Ontario it is now legal for both men and women to walk down the street without a shirt on a hot day.

So why my qualms? Perhaps it was the relative privacy of the park. Few people were there. Every five minutes or so I would pass a female jogger or an elderly man on a bicycle. I could feel silent glances from my past—not words, just looks—telling me it was indiscrete.

What is this discomfort about the human body? As a teenager I was so self-conscious of my nipples that when I went swimming I would cross my arms over chest, pretending to be chilly, until I could hide them under the water. As a young man I learned from conservative religion to hate "even the clothing stained by corrupt flesh." (Jude 23)

Somewhere in the Dark Ages people began thinking that body, mind and spirit are separate. It was (and is still in some places) believed that the spirit could never be pure as long as it was attached to the body. Physical desires and functions, rather than being considered natural as they are for all creatures, came to be viewed as filthy and shameful.

While few of us believe this anymore, the cultural paranoia is nearly universal.

It's also irrational. People in cooler climates started wearing clothes millennia ago presumably to keep warm. Garments eventually served other functions as well: protection, ceremonial costume, decoration, and symbols of wealth or social status.

It is unlikely that clothes have ever prevented anyone from having sex once they set their minds to it. Perhaps they prevent us from thinking about sex in a constructive and respectful way. In my experience it is people who wear clothes all the time who are most neurotic and disturbed about their own erotic feelings.

Naked animals have sex at an appropriate time. Naked tribesman and tribeswomen have sex at a time that is appropriate for their culture. People who visit nude and naked beaches and resorts are able to do so without facing unwanted sexual attention. The First Time Nudist web site provides useful information for anyone contemplating this form of recreation.

So what is the point to our objections about public nudity? Many of the rules of morality are simply stupid. They have to do with resistance to change or the desire to retain power over others.

I've gradually become more comfortable with my naked body and the bodies of others. And over time, I find that nudity has become less sexually charged for me. Granted, I still love to see the object of my desire undressed, but it becomes less and less important how he looks with his clothes off, and more important who he is.

But on a hot September day in the park, I took solace in the fact that exposing my right nipple had nothing to do with sex. The breeze brushing my breast gave me sensuous relief after being cooped up alone in my apartment for a few days.

This is how our attitude towards our bodies and minds can become truly spiritual: when we don't condemn their urges or punish ourselves for being the animals that we are. We are gloriously designed by the forces of nature to fill a special place in its fabric. If we listen more compassionately to our own unexpected thoughts and feelings, they may reveal neglected needs like the comfort of human touch or an experience of natural beauty.