The first time I made love, I just had to show up with my vagina to rock my young beloved’s world.  We explored those new fruits with enthusiasm, joy and curiosity, and an equal amount of hormonal horniness. That we were in love and practiced safe sex together is evidence to me that young adults can navigate those early sexual days responsibly and with mutual satisfaction on the agenda.

"Mother Earth doesn’t need us to survive, but we sure do need her. Better make sure she comes first." That tagline sums up my understanding of eco-sexuality in an organic nutshell, though my experience thus far is that even many die-hard greenies toss their dirt laden hands in the air when you mention making love sustainable. If tree-huggers are bemused, what about the rest of us mainstream recyclers? My friend Wendy Strgar is in the business of creating sustainable relationships (she’s the founder of GoodCleanLove.com – lotions and potions and adult toys that are good for you and the planet; in other words, she purveys sexy and safe fun). From her I realized that sustainability in the bedroom is an inside job.

The emerging field of ecosexuality takes cues from many viewpoints and philosophies. There are the practical aspects, like using eco-friendly lubrication, or eating the right sort of foods. Equally important to the fundamentals of ecosexuality is the idea of consciousness; that every choice we make has an impact on the planet and ourselves. In order for humanity to birth itself to the next level of awareness, we must visualize a future that is compatible with the values of love and peace, sexual healing and freedom, and global planetary stewardship.

Years ago, my father kept an image of my mom taken during their early courtship. Sitting demurely on the edge of a chair, her hands on her bare lap, she’s clad in next to nothing, just a bit of black lace and a mysterious smile. It wasn’t something I was supposed to see, and that alone sparked curiosity. She was sensual before I could identify what that really meant, and before the woman’s liberation movement had begun, with its prattle of burned bras.

What's in a name?

Nowadays, one might call women accomplished in their curves and femininity any number of monikers. The Brits have "yummy mummy," their version of an acronym that rhymes with F I L T H, equally devoid of charm and mystery. Maybe that’s why modern labels rankle sensibilities. Do we want someone to look our way and say, that’s a Mother I’d like F**K? Out of the mouth of our beloved, if it’s his lust and love motivated behind those words, we may purr at the potty talk – if we are so inclined for private smut or brave enough to admit it.