When I was younger I used to go to a certain place to be alone.....yet not alone.
In a little opening by a stream, hidden from the trail by thick growth, a boulder sat. It was a big, smooth boulder with a little dip or depression on the top. Beside it was a smaller rock which was perfect for standing on to lean over into that little dip.
There was a tree stretching its branches over the boulder, and when the stream was running its babbling voice mingled with the singing of the birds and the rustle of the wind through the leaves. It was a place where you could be part of everything.
I would lie naked on the smooth boulder, stroking myself with one hand or both, looking up through the leaves at the blue sky and wisps of cloud while the water bubbled and the birds passed overhead. As the force of Nature moved through me I would turn over and slip my feet down onto the smaller rock to gently grind my shaft against the cool surface of the boulder. This was a place where no one judged, where no one condemned. The stream didn't protest my boldness, the trees didn't recoil at my nakedness and Mother Nature Herself accepted this intimate course from me. She whose own elements made up the very frame of flesh I was pressing and rubbing against Her, She would nurture me to that release for which the universe had designed me. When the moment came and I gave my inner substance to Her, She graciously accepted back what She had given me to begin with. The water, the birds, the trees, the wind, my naked body, the force shuddering and tingling through me, the same Nature made it all, and it was all One.
There's no lover like Mother Nature.