Mental wellness, Earth-spiritual practice. Ecosexuality.
Sue Westwind writes from America’s prairie woodlands.
When author Sue Westwind marries at midlife and moves to sixty acres of prairie woodland, she imagines that her life will now be fulfilled in ways she has always longed for. Yet the man she marries soon chafes at the demands of their rural life and tragically loses the passion for her that once had assured her their union would always be idyllic. As her husband grows silent and distant both from her and the land they live on, she finds erotic fulfillment in the swells and folds of the earth itself, in trees and creeks, in deer and stones. She awakens to the land erotic, and in her ever-expanding and intimate connection to it, she discovers a kind of earth-based sexuality that rejuvenates her and gives her strength to endure.
Born into a family full of shame and secrets about their legacy of mental illness, Sue Westwind received her own set of labels when she ran away from home in 1969. Depression, anxiety, migraines, and chronic fatigue grew worse as she grew older.
The story could have ended there: a lifetime spent taking prescription drugs to treat her myriad list of illnesses. But an open mind and a desire to heal led Westwind to an extraordinary body of research. She learned that our toxic Earth plays a dangerous role in the human epidemic of bad moods and violent behavior.
Humans, how can you bear it? Your loved ones, homes, and hunks of familiar terrain lost to strident weather patterns worldwide. The footage of it happening has to jar loose some feeling even in the
Please understand that the topics I’m about to discuss raise great skepticism in me. If the subjects of reincarnation, ancestral healing, and bloodline-transmission of trauma responses sound like mumbo jumbo or in any way bother
All winter I wanted to write an ecosexual response to the season of cold and dark. But a long winter’s hardly the kind of event that gets our juices flowing, we stay indoors on long
Recently on Facebook I shared the excitement of trying to write my first blurb (an endorsement for another author’s book that is cited on its cover). The effort invoked for me the trouble I’d had
What I know about you I’ve heard on this thing we call Facebook. We are the people in houses at the edge of your habitat, where we type onto screens our scuttlebutt about the neighborhood.
We see the idea of kindness packaged these days in every way commerce can cook up. You can buy kindness cards, sweatshirts, stickers, books, mugs, plaques, pillows, and calendars. But which came first, the heart’s