NUDISM, NATURISM, GYMNOSOPHY, AND BODY FREEDOM
THIS IS MY BODY
This is an original work that may not be reproduced without the express permission of the author. To contact Shane Steinkamp, please use the form at the bottom of this page. This work is available for publication.This piece works rather well as a piece of performance art, if you're brave enough to be naked in front of a crowd of strangers...
I am asking for help with putting together a voice project for this piece. If you would like to help, please see read the part after the piece below.
THIS IS MY BODY
BY SHANE STEINKAMP
We arrive in this world from the miraculous vessel of the womb and quickly take our place in the forward march of humanity. We are the product of a startling paradox: we arrive in this world through our mother's womb, and her through her mother's, and her through her mother's in turn. Looking back, all of humanity folds back into a Great Spiraling Hallway of Parallel Mirrors; wombs in wombs in wombs. We are an echo that repeats endlessly from a single beat of an ancient drum. The sound of that drum is 'WOMB, WOMB, WOMB…'
Racing this hallway backwards to the beginning, which came first; the mother or the womb? Was there an Eve - be she wife of Adam or no? No matter. The hallway of mirrors ends not there, and goes back further, and whether we rose from the soil by chance or were formed from it by unseen hands, a simple truth is plain: The first womb of mankind is Mother Earth herself. Even she, in turn, was born in a way from the womb of the universe.
Beyond that birth we cannot see. From what womb the universe born? We cannot know. The drumbeat seems to originate here. The Universe is our Greatest Grandmother of all. Through her pangs all the myriad worlds became her children, and grandchildren in turn were born to them. Each child in turn passing along just a little bit of the original seed first passed on eons ago. Each one an echo reverberating down the Great Hallway of time.
It does not do well to dwell too long on the Original Mother, and so we travel back through the Great Spiral Hallway and arrive again in our bodies, which have - through untold mothers born from the universe itself - come out of the Earth to walk upon it, and give thanks.
Through this singular realization, we stand with bare feet upon the Earth and declare to one another, "This is our body.", and there is nothing more sacred, more holy, or more miraculous than our body.
This is my body.
This is no metaphor. This is the reality of flesh. Warm, feeling, and alive.
This is our body; Emerged from our mother with a bloodline stretching back to the beginning of time.
In this body I discover another - my wife - and this too is my body; and through the intimacy of this one flesh, we give thanks.
This is my body.
In time I hold in my own naked arms my own naked daughter, unlocked and grown from the box of her mother's womb with the key and the seed I brought with me from my mother's womb and I know and say aloud, "This is my body." Flesh of my flesh, and bone of my bones.
A womb born of a womb, a natural daughter and a divine sister, and I look at her and know that the seed has moved from us to her - another mirror aligned in the Great Spiral Hallway.
We sit, huddled together warm and naked, flesh to flesh, my wife, baby daughter, and I, and we know without saying, "This is our body.", and there is nothing more wondrous than this. Flesh of our flesh, and bone of our bones. Is there anything we should be more joyful or thankful for than this?
This is my body.
How strange then, and sad, and cruel, and unimaginably evil it is that we wrap our warm, living, sacred flesh in cold, dead rags and hide our bodies away and say that they are shameful, and vile, and sinful, and ugly, and obscene. How strange, and sad, and cruel, that we take something that should be cherished and instead abuse it, lock it away, and try to pretend that it does not exist. How strange and sad that we take something sacred and call it profane. How strange it is that we are ashamed of our greatest treasure when our only shame is that shame: The shame of a lie that someone told us about ourselves.
OH! Cruel master! What have you done with the child of your mother? What have you done with the sacred garment you were born in? Wicked child! Do you really believe that you can be weaned from your Mother the Earth, wear a ragged disguise, and pretend that you are not her offspring?
This is our body! Hands, fingers, toes, arms, legs, bellies and backs, nipples and breasts and buttocks, penis, scrotum, anus, vulva, vagina, womb! This is our body!. Holy of holies! Sacred of sacreds! To lay our hands on our bodies is to touch the original Temple of the Divine!
...
Give me your hand! That's right; come along. It's just a little way. Let's go down and visit our mother. No! No! No hat or coat. Let us go down undisguised; and perhaps, though she has not seen us these many years she will recognize us and let us suckle at her breast. Come with me now, my hand around your waist, and walk with me and I will point out for you the body of your mother. Walk with me now, and perhaps you shall repay the same service to me in due time. No! No! Off with that foul habiliment! Do you think that I speak in allegory? Do not let your mother see you in those vile rags! If you wear a disguise, she might not know you! That's right… Off! OFF! ALL OFF! Do not be a stubborn child.
...
Stand atop this high place and let the wind caress you lovingly.
This is your body.
Leap from here and plunge into a deep clear pool.
This is your body.
Lay on this cool grass while the raindrops kiss you in your entirety.
This is your body.
Sit in this waterfall, and be truly free.
This is your body.
Stand upon this beach - each foot in a different world.
This is your body.
Fling yourself into this raging sea, and feel it rock you gently.
This is your body.
Walk along this shore - a ribbon of starlight.
This is your body.
Lay in the sand exposed to the great eye of this sun, and feel it warm you
deeply.
This is your body.
Witness this sea of grass - dancing - and dance with it.
This is your body.
See how these lilies of the field grow. They do not labor or spin, yet not
even Solomon in all his splendor was dressed like one of these.
This is your body.
Swim in this sky blue lake and feel the water tickling every part of you.
This is your body.
Taste deeply this cool river.
This is your body.
Wander in this desert - a parched and thirsty place.
This is your body.
Observe this forest - a vast ocean of green.
This is your body.
Smell these trees - Children of the Universe grown from different seed.
This is your body.
Raise your arms - like their outstretched branches giving thanks to the sky.
This is your body.
Listen to the rustling laughter of these leaves - and laugh with them.
This is your body.
Sleep upon this ground - the very flesh of your mother.
This is your body.
Confer with these cacti - silent sentinels.
This is your body.
Stand beneath these clouds - icebergs in a crystal blue sea.
This is your body.
Listen to this raindrops as they play a sacred melody on your skin.
This is your body.
Lie down in this stream and let it wash through your soul.
This is your body.
Watch this fire - a common magic - transmuting the elements.
This is your body.
Catch these snowflakes - Icy tears shed for the memory of creation.
This is your body.
This is the Song of Souls.
This is our body.
The Earth itself is Flesh of our flesh and Bone of our bones.
Sing with me now and our mother will sing with us.
This is our body.
Let us weep in the wind, swim in the sky, dance with the rain, make love
with waterfalls, speak to the sea, roll in the dirt, rejoice in our
laughter, and celebrate the poetry of our lives.
This is your body.
This is my body.
This is our body.
How can you be ashamed?
Now then, come a bit further. That's right. Walk with me. Not far now. There is another place to show you. See here, this man, old, haggard, and frail? This is our body. See how nature deals with us in the end? Like a mother leading a sleepy child to bed; playthings scattered on the floor. See how it ends? All mother's children must sleep. You too, my friend, will go down to bed one day, and you will be lost to the dreamtime. Would you like to see your resting place? Come along then. It's just a little way. Ah! Here we are now… What's that? Why, yes, yes this is the path we just walked, and here is where you will come to peace. The hills, the vales, the woods, the lakes, and the rivers are the ornaments of the great Tomb of Mankind. The circle of life is also a circle of death. The Earth is one mighty sepulture and you will slumber in its bosom with all your brothers and sisters before you. This is your body. Your mother will recognize you then and say, 'This is my body!', and she will grow you up again as the grass you walk upon now. You will become many other things as well - born in other ways from other wombs.
So live now! While you have time, before your mother calls you to bed, play! Do not go about in cold rags filled with dread and shame - there will be time enough for cold rags when they sew you in a sack and put you in a hole. Do not go about in cold rags! Run rather - run! - naked - literally and absolutely naked in the sun upon the grass, and laugh, and breathe, and dance. This is your body. Do not hide it from the face of your mother.
Why are you afraid? How can you be ashamed? Why? Why!?
The whole race is a poet. Do not let your verse be sad and cruel.
This is your body!
Perhaps now I have put you upon the road, but now you must travel it for yourself. Now I depart, but if you look for me, I can be found. I am a child of the universe, and this is my body - and yours too. Sacred of sacreds. Holy of holies. Do not let yours languish like an unseen treasure wrapped in cold rags, but take it out from time to time - as often as possible - and celebrate it before your time in the sun is past. Celebrate it now.
Say hello to mother for me.
***
Shane Steinkamp - January 11, 2004
Revisions November 11, 2004
If you liked this piece, please help me with a little project...
I would like to put together a recording of this piece using many voices. In order to do this, I need people to send me recordings of themselves reading the work, or even just some small part of it. This is very easy to do. Windows XP has built a built in sound recorder, and many computers have built in microphones or even come with them. If you click the START button then ALL PROGRAMS - ACCESSORIES - ENTERTAINMENT - SOUND RECORDER the program will start. Just hit the record button and start reading. I will do all the editing, lifting just a sentence at a time and assemble the final work from many voices. Even if you just send me a little bit, it will be a big help. Just save the recording as a .wav file by selecting FILE - SAVE from the menu, and then email it as an attachment to bodyproject@gmail.com . If you would like a credit in the final production, please indicate that.
