The Woman Who Slept With Men to Take the War Out of Them and Tree

by Deena Metzger

Excellent Book

Genres: Biography

Paperback

First published January 1, 1992

About the author

Poet, novelist, essayist, playwright and storyteller is an Earth activist with over 20 published books and a multitude of essays, articles, poems, and stories. She has tried to be faithful to the calling of healer and medicine woman and has taught and counseled for over fifty years.

She has published more than 20 books including The Story That Must Not Be Told, novels, La Vieja: A Journal of Fire, A Rain of Night Birds, La Negra y Blanca, winner Oakland PEN Josephine Miles Literary Award, non fiction, Entering the Ghost River: Meditations on the Theory and Practice of Healing and Tree: Essays and Pieces, and poetry, Ruin and Beauty, New and Selected Poems.

Her play, Dreams Against the State, received many different productions in a variety of venues. Writing For Your Life: A Guide and Companion to the Inner Worlds, her classic book on writing is still in print since 1992! As a healer she has introduced ReVisioning Medicine, 19 Ways (for a Viable Future for All Beings) Literature of Restoration and Healing Stories which creatively address life threatening diseases, spiritual and emotional crises, as well as community, political and environmental disintegration.

Deena lives at the end of the road at the edge of a wild park with Mountain Lion, Coyote, Raven, Owl and others as companions. There she holds Daré, the gathering of the community on behalf of healing.

Reviews

[Lee Stovicek]

This book was exactly what I didn't know I needed, I recommend it to EVERY woman

[Early]

Tree is a story of a womans recovery from Breast Cancer. I also enjoyed the second story, The Woman Who Slept with Men to Take the War Out of Them. It reminded me of the Jungian Book Sacred Prostitute.

[didi]

THE NARRATOR. The Woman paces up and down, thinking about Grace, and then returns to her chair to write, pressing her hands up against her inner thighs. '’Grace is comfortable with her genitals,’ the Woman writes, ‘like an old dog burrowing with her nose into the piquant places between her hind legs, licking and licking.” The Woman envies Grace. The smell of her own cunt confuses her. The smell of her lover's skin. The smell of sex in the morning, carried deliberately on her body, refusing to shower, the bit of private life carried through the day. Washing at night, before lovemaking, coming fresh to the sweet cycle.
THE WOMAN. Do you know what pudenda means?
THE NARRATOR. The Woman speaks to the empty room.
THE WOMAN. Pudenda means shame.
This is a book about eggs. Nothing more. And nothing less.