The Enlightened Streaker Audiobook By Jazmyn Waller cover art

The Enlightened Streaker

How Running Nude Through Nature Can Cleanse Your Soul and Terrify the Mailman

 Virtual Voice Sample

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The Enlightened Streaker

By: Jazmyn Waller
Narrated by: Virtual Voice
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Now listen, I wasn’t always the kind of person who thought nudity had spiritual properties. In fact, I used to clutch my towel tighter than a Southern grandma clutching her pearls during a thunderstorm. But one Tuesday morning, while holding a lukewarm cup of gas station coffee and watching a squirrel scratch its butt in a moment of pure, unselfconscious glory, I had a revelation. That squirrel didn’t care about judgment or cellulite or tax season. It just lived. Naked. And free. And probably itchy, but still, the point stands.

I didn’t set out to become a naked runner. I wasn’t born hollering from the womb like, “Get me to the forest, pronto!” No, it started slow. First, I slept naked. Then I started making pancakes naked, which honestly added a level of thrill I didn’t know breakfast needed. Eventually, one morning, I stepped outside to grab the newspaper and thought, why not jog a little? Just to the mailbox. And maybe to the neighbor’s hedges. And okay, fine, maybe a mile down the gravel road, dodging possums and waving at confused cows.

There is something deeply ridiculous and liberating about letting your cheeks flap in the breeze like two ungoverned flags of freedom. I don’t care who you are or what your spiritual beliefs are, there is something fundamentally healing about feeling the sun kiss every weird part of your body. That part of your side you didn’t know had freckles. The backs of your knees. The underbutt. Yes, enlightenment lives in the underbutt, friend.

People always ask me, Jazmyn, isn’t it dangerous? Aren’t you scared of getting arrested or bitten by a raccoon with boundary issues? And to that I say, sure. But you know what’s more dangerous? Living your whole life swaddled in society’s expectations like a sad burrito of repression. There’s courage in unzipping your pants and saying, “Not today, shame. I’m going full possum energy and embracing the weird wild naked now.”

I didn’t invent naked running. I’m pretty sure some prehistoric auntie was out there doing it before it was cool, probably while chasing a goat and yelling at her kids. But I did discover its magical properties one panicked sprint at a time. When you run nude, you can’t hide anything. Your jiggly bits, your fear, your joy, it all comes along for the ride. It forces you to be present in a way that wearing leggings from Target simply does not.

And let me tell you, nothing connects you to the earth quite like running across a patch of dewy grass at sunrise with a praying mantis clinging to your left thigh and God whispering, “Girl, what are you even doing?” That’s enlightenment. That’s nudity. And that, my friend, is the beginning of this gloriously inappropriate journey.

Welcome to The Enlightened Streaker.

Please take your shoes off.

And maybe everything else too.
 Performing Arts Personal Development Spirituality
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