aletheic environments

designing for unhidden wellbeing

Tag: spirituality

How can we bring taste and smell into an aletheic environment?
This post explores the concept of “aletheia,” connecting truth to sensory experiences, particularly in natural environments. Does a complete immersion in the environment heighten sensory awareness, especially regarding taste and smell?

Aletheia relates to truth, unconcealdness and revelation. Aletheia is about a process of revelation and uncovering something that was previously hidden or obscured.

This all sounds very profound and a bit philosophical, but the ways by which we connect with the environments we are in can help us to reveal more about our own nature, as well as the nature of the space we occupy.

We can achieve this is either by being in nature, or by creating built environments that stimulate our senses that can replicate the experience of being in our ‘wild’ state.

A sensory environment

As I have mentioned before, biophilia is all about making sense of our world by experiencing sensory stimuli that complement each other to tell us the whole story about where we are rather than confuse us with mixed and contradictory messages.

In many buildings, biophilic design focuses mainly on visual elements, followed by the acoustic environment and then textures and materials. Our chemical senses – essentially smell and taste – are ignored or only partially addressed by incorporating scents. This makes me wonder whether we are missing out on something.

Is it possible to incorporate taste and smell as part of the aletheic experience?

In an aletheic environment, we should expect that our senses are heightened and that we could experience things with greater clarity. This is likely to be amplified when we make the maximum connection with our environment and uncover our whole selves and stand naked in nature and be naked together.

It is true that direct, empirical, research about whether naturism heightens the senses is limited. However, there is some research that supports the idea that nudity enhances the awareness and receptivity of the senses – especially what is known as heightened interoceptive awareness.

There is also – often anecdotal – evidence from the naturist community . This may be more a shift in perception rather than a measurable increase in sensory acuity.

The most direct sensory impact is on our skin and the bundle of senses we often refer to us touch. Being in a natural space without clothing allows for direct contact with the elements. We feel of the sun’s warmth, the breeze, the ground beneath our feet. Many naturists feel that this direct contact with nature’s elements can foster a sense of grounding and a deeper connection to the environment.

By shedding the barriers to our senses (such as clothing), individuals may become more attuned to the sights, sounds, smells, tastes and sensations of a natural space.

While there’s no conclusive scientific evidence proving that being naked makes your sense of smell or taste sharper, it seems unlikely that nudity will dull them. It is known, however, that nudity increases interoceptive awareness – our perception of the sensations inside of our body.

So, how can we bring taste and smell into an aletheic environment?

I recently wrote a post about meditation. The practice centres on noticing how you feel. Noticing our feelings when uncovered brings them sharply into focus, so let’s think about how we feel when we taste and smell.

An extra dimension to your sensory experiences

If you have ever been to a tutored wine tasting, you will have been taught how to maximize the experience of the flavours in the wine. You will have discovered how to smell the wine before it even gets to your mouth. Then how to slurp the wine in such a way as to aerate it and release some of the volatile chemicals in it. You will learn which parts of the tongue and mouth are most sensitive to wide variety of flavours in the wine and you will discover why some wines complement some foods and not others.

Wine tasting (or purposefully tasting anything: cheese, coffee, freshly-picked fruit, etc.) can make the experience of consuming food and drink much more profound.

Naturists know that dining naked, outdoors, in a nice environment adds an extra dimension to the experience of a meal. I would like to believe (and I would like to test) whether we really do perceive tastes and smells differently when all of our senses are working together in concert.

In vino veritas? In wine, there is truth

If anyone (e.g. a wine merchant and / or naturist group) would like to join me in setting up a naked wine tasting event, in a natural or biophilic environment, to test this hypothesis, get in touch. What’s the worst that could happen?
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Δ
09/09/2025
Risk, peril and awe
In this post, I explore some of the patterns of biophilic design: categorized into nature interactions, spatial qualities, and the psychological impact of environments. The feelings of risk, peril, and awe highlight how these elements could enhance experience in authentic spaces.

Note: This post explores the psychological and wellbeing benefits of naturism within biophilic environments. It contains illustrations depicting nudity and the human form.

In my last post, I mentioned the work by Terrapin Bright Green about the patterns of biophilia and how they can be incorporated into the built environment. The patterns are grouped into three categories

Nature in the space

This is, essentially, the stuff you put in, on and around a building to evoke a sense of being in nature
- Visual connection with nature (e.g. plants and greenery)
- Non-visual connection with nature (e.g. scents and soundscapes)
- Non-rhythmic connections with nature
- Thermal and airflow variability
- Presence of water
- Dynamic and diffuse light
- Connection with natural systems
Natural analogues

This relates to materials and nature-inspired design
- Biomorphic forms and patterns
- Material connections with nature
- Complexity and order
Nature of the space

This is the area I find most fascinating, as it relates not just to what is used, but how the space is used and how we feel in the space.
- Prospect: views over a distance
- Refuge: a place for withdrawal where there is safety, privacy and room to contemplate
- Mystery: encouragement to travel deeper into the environment
- Risk / peril: an unidentifiable threat coupled with the knowledge of a reliable safeguard
- Awe: stimuli that defy an existing frame of reference and lead to a change in perception
I think that the last two patterns can be the ones that can be most revealing of themselves and of ourselves. This is the bridge between biophilia and aletheia.

The patterns of risk / peril and awe are deeply rooted in our innate psychological and biological responses. When applied to an aletheic environment – a space where truth, non-concealment and unconcealedness are central – the experience becomes about confronting reality directly and authentically.

Experiencing risk and peril in an aletheic environment

Risk and peril is about feeling an identifiable threat coupled with a sense of security. In a true, unconcealed space, this isn’t about physical danger but about psychological and social vulnerability.

The peril is the risk of being seen, judged, and fully exposed, not physically but in a raw, authentic state. The safeguard is the trust and acceptance of the environment and the people within it. This creates a sense of profound psychological safety.

As a sensory experience, the peril could be the feeling of being fully exposed to the elements, such as the cold touch of stone, an unexpected breeze, being caught in a shower of rain or the warmth of the sun on the skin. This is a direct, unmediated sensory feedback which leads to an authentic, unconcealed experience of the environment.

When we consider the design of a space, we might think about spaces with a high, open ceiling (prospect) that also has small, intimate nooks (refuge). The “risk” is the exposure of the open area, while the “safety” is the option to retreat. The design itself mirrors the push and pull of vulnerability and security.

Experiencing awe in an aletheic environment

Awe, as a pattern, is about confronting something vast and complex that challenges our existing understanding. In an aletheic context, awe comes from a sense of truth and connection.

Awe can be evoked by witnessing the raw, unconcealed power of nature.

In nature, these environments could be vast forests, open plains, high waterfalls of sheer cliff faces. Places where we really can recognise our vulnerability against such scale and natural power, but also knowing that, as a species, we have been able to navigate, and even thrive, in such environments.

Sometimes, we can also create such spaces. Places like the Great Pyramids, Stonehenge, vast cathedrals and temples all evoke a sense of awe. More modern spaces such as the magnificent palm house at Kew Gardens, the Eden Project in Cornwall or even places such as Bangalore Airport can make one gasp.

Imagine a large indoor waterfall, a living wall that extends through multiple floors, or a glass ceiling that reveals the night sky. These elements present a complex, vast system that you can directly experience, connecting you to something bigger than yourself.

Unconcealed Design

Awe can also come from the honesty of the materials and structure. Exposed building materials like raw concrete, untreated wood, or a direct view of a building’s mechanical systems can be awe-inspiring in their authenticity and lack of artifice.

Lloyds of London building.
Photo by Kei Scampa on Pexels.com

The complexity and beauty of biomorphic forms can also inspire awe. A large, spiral staircase mimicking a seashell or a structure with branching columns like a tree can create a sense of wonder and connection to the vast patterns of life.

Interior of Changi Airport, Singapore.
Photo by Lynde on Pexels.com

Raw exposure: nudity amplifies the experience

Nudity in these spaces doesn’t just add to the experience; it can fundamentally change it, making the sensations of risk, peril, and awe more intense and immediate. It is easier to achieve in a natural environment, but could be possible in the built environment – perhaps through out-of-hours naturist tours of places like a grand botanic garden or architectural masterpiece.

Being unclothed removes a primary layer of social protection and concealment. It makes the risk of being seen more palpable and immediate, which in turn makes the safety of the trusting environment even more profound. The body’s immediate vulnerability to temperature changes and textures also heightens the sensory peril and the confidence in a safeguard.

Nudity creates a direct and unmediated experience. Being naked removes the physical and psychological barrier between the person and the environment. You are not just observing the space, you are directly interacting with it through your whole body. This unmediated connection enhances the feeling of aletheia, as there is no concealment between you and the truth of the space.

The experience of awe becomes embodied. Instead of just a mental concept, you feel the smallness of your body in a vast space or the intricate complexity of a natural pattern against your skin. This can lead to a deeper, more visceral sense of wonder and connection to the world around you.

The integration of nudity in an aletheic, biophilic space is not just about personal preference but about a deeper philosophical alignment with the patterns themselves, a move towards total non-concealment and an authentic experience of the world.
05/09/2025
A symphony for our senses

Humans traditionally recognize five senses, but we actually possess many more. These senses work together to interpret the environment, essential for survival. Modern urban settings can overwhelm our senses, leading to stress. Biophilic design aims to restore sensory balance by incorporating nature, enhancing comfort and overall well-being, much like the harmony of an orchestra.

Introducing the sense orchestra

Consider vision. What do we actually sense with our eyes?

We use our eyes to see shapes, estimate distances, perceive colour, determine brightness, work out which way is up, detect movement, tell us about the direction we are facing, or moving towards, and estimate speed. Changes in brightness and daylength tell us about passing of time and the change of the seasons.

Our eyes are very much our primary sense, but what we see makes more sense if it is confirmed by what we hear, smell, touch and taste.

Our stereophonic hearing helps us to know where we are in relation to the source of the noise. Is it to our left or right, or even behind us? Is it moving towards us or away? And other tiny organs in our ears work in harmony with our eyes to tell us which way is up and how fast we are moving and turning.

Our eyes, nose and mouth working together are critical for telling us whether something is safe to eat, and our tongue is more than just a collection of taste buds – it is full of sensors that inform us about textures and temperatures.

We have sense organs inside our body. They tell us if we have indigestion or when we have an infection, or have sustained damage. Understanding and interpreting our internal senses is called interoception – a new word for me.

Our biggest sense organ is, of course, our skin. It tells us so much about our environment. We detect temperature, texture, hardness, malleability, size, shape and the quality of materials. The hairs on our skin can respond to changes in static electricity and there is no doubt that touch can generate the most intense pleasure.

Composing the piece

Human senses work together to help us to understand our environment, or rather the environment that we spent well over 90% of our existence (maybe as much 99% if you include our immediate hominid ancestors).

Our senses evolved to allow us to survive in a particular environment: open savannah. This environment is characterized by open vistas, undulating terrain, scattered and clustered vegetation and plenty of water. It was quite warm, although there were some seasonal variations. In our ancestral, natural environment, our senses told us about opportunities and threats. However, they need to work in harmony to give us the full picture.

The modern, urban environment is quite a long way from those open plains. Buildings mean that sounds echo around so the direction we hear from is not the same as where we see the source. We bombard some of our senses whilst simultaneously dull others. After all, we cover most of our largest sense organ, most of the time, and deprive ourselves of gaining vital information about our environment.

These confusing, discordant inputs cause stress. We have to make a lot of mental effort to understand what is going on.

Melody and harmony

The practice of biophilic design – bringing a sense of nature into our built environment – is a step towards correcting this sensory discord. It often focuses on the visual sense by incorporating natural views, plants, and natural light, and it is becoming increasingly commonplace in modern design.

However, an aletheic environment brings a new level of comfort and restoration by going even further. The idea is to provide complete, harmonious sensory stimulation that restores the connection our ancestors once had. While it may not be possible in every space (office naturism is probably a step too far for most), we can create restorative environments in our places of leisure and living that allow us to experience this deep reconnection.

The orchestral score

The metaphor with music is a good one. By thoughtfully designing spaces that appeal to all of our senses in an unfiltered way, we can go beyond simply adding plants. We can compose a full symphony, where every input works together to create an experience that is far more than the sum of its parts.

16/08/2025