Bright Lights: Naomi Westwater Honors Grief, Spirit, and Song Masculinity
Naomi Westwater is helping people remember how to live in rhythm with the seasons—and each other.
Through music, ritual, and community, the Boston-based artist weaves together creativity, spirituality, and storytelling in ways that feel both timeless and deeply present. A queer, Black multiracial, nonbinary singer-songwriter, Westwater blends folk-rock, poetry, and soul-rooted performance to explore themes of nature, ancestry, and collective healing.
Their most recent album, Cycle and Change, is a musical meditation on the Wheel of the Year, the eight solar holidays rooted in ancient seasonal traditions. It is also a personal and spiritual offering—one that emerged, fittingly, from a season of loss. “I think creativity is a spiritual connection,” Westwater says. “But to have so much intention behind [the album] being spiritual was very important.”
In addition to making music, Westwater curates live shows, facilitates spiritual circles, and leads “Reclaiming Folk,” a touring series that celebrates people of color in folk and Americana by reclaiming space in a tradition where their contributions have too often been overlooked.
Whether writing songs or holding space, Westwater brings grounded reverence to their work. “When we connect with each other and connect spiritually, I think we live more fulfilling lives,” they say. “If I can inspire that for somebody, that’s great.”
Roots and Rhythm
Westwater grew up on Cape Cod in a multiracial household shaped by progressive values, deep spirituality, and a love of music. Their mother, Elizabeth Westwater, is a tarot reader, herbalist, and longtime public health worker. Their late father, Robert “Bob” Lymar Weekes, ran a restaurant on Cape Cod for more than 40 years and practiced mediumship through the Spiritualist Church.
“My mom had her woman’s spiritual circle come over and bless and protect the house, and my dad had his spiritualist minister come over and play the didgeridoo in the yard,” Westwater recalls. “I was 12 and I was mortified. I was like, the neighbors are going to know we’re not normal.”
Despite the embarrassment they sometimes felt as a child, Westwater came to cherish the foundation their parents laid. “As an adult, I’m so grateful for it,” they say. “There was mystery around what my parents were up to. Even when it was embarrassing, I was curious.”
In 2010 while in college, Westwater began hosting their own spiritual circles and has continued ever since. “The themes connect to what’s happening in nature,” they explain. “When you bring in spirituality that is nature-focused, that allows people to reconnect. It feels good to live within the seasons.”
The Power of Permission
For Westwater, spirituality isn’t about rules—it’s about resonance. “There is nobody getting in the way between me and my relationship with God,” they say. “Spirituality gives you permission to have a direct relationship.”
That sense of permission that was modeled at home was also nurtured and reinforced at the Waldorf school they attended through eighth grade, where seasonal changes were marked with rituals like the maypole dance and Santa Lucia celebration. As Westwater grew older, those early lessons in spiritual openness stood in contrast to the pressure to conform.
“So much of my life and so many of my identities are not a tidy, clean label or a box,” they say. “I’ve just always felt very uncomfortable trying to be in boxes that don’t fit me.”
That discomfort has become a source of freedom. “I actually feel very at peace with my life,” they say. “I know that I’m doing things right because there is a calm.”
“We don’t know what our lives are going to look like from one spring to the next, but we know spring comes. If we can hold both of those concepts as true at the same time, then I think we can have peace.”
Grief and Grounding
That calm has carried Westwater through a season of upheaval. In the span of a few months, they moved to a new city, released a record, and lost their father, who died this past April at the age of 72.
“My dad’s passing was so wild because it came at a time in my life that was very chaotic and hectic,” Westwater says. “But I have this deep well that I can go to where I can grieve and I can find joy. I can live in complex, conflicting emotions.”
Rather than turn away from grief, Westwater embraced it as a spiritual portal. “I’m curious to explore this new relationship with my dad as he’s in spirit,” they say. “I actually find great comfort in knowing that he had spiritual relationships with people and that that’s actually a thing he would want us to have.”
After bringing their father’s ashes back to Cape Cod, they cleaned his altar, placed most of his ashes there, and then added some of his ashes to their own ancestral altar at home. Not long after, Westwater had what they call a visitation: “I had this dream where I was in the hospital with him. He sat up in bed and looked me right in the eyes and said, ‘Naomi, I love you.’ It really calmed me.”
They also found solace in caring for him during his final days. “I loved that work of ushering him through death. I didn’t know I was going to like it,” they say, adding that becoming a death doula is something they’re considering.
Cycle and Change
Westwater wrote and recorded Cycle and Change before their father’s death, but the album’s themes of transformation and seasonal rhythm feel even more poignant now.
“This record needed to be spiritual,” they say. “It starts in the spring and ends in the winter, and there are four songs for each season.” Each track, like each holiday in the Wheel of the Year, reflects a phase of life, death, or renewal. Written over the past decade, the album threads queerness, grief, friendship, gardening, and even Roe v. Wade and the pandemic into cycles of rebirth and decay. It was released last May, but grief slowed Westwater’s desire to promote it. “Now that I’ve had a little bit of space, I’m like, ‘Oh yeah, I love this record. I want to talk about it,’” they say.
Their hope for the album is twofold: that it advances their music career and inspires vulnerability. Even more, they hope it offers a reintroduction to something sacred. “I believe that at some point, nature is going to win, so that’s kind of my hope—that this is just a little teeny-tiny way to aid in nature’s winning.”
Living in Alignment
Westwater’s definition of success is clear and grounded. “It is recognition, compensation, and sustainability,” they say. “If I can find a way where I feel recognized, and it doesn’t burn me out, then I think that will be success.”
They’re currently writing their next two albums, continuing their spiritual practice, and deepening their community work by creating events at iconic venues like The Apollo, The Beacon Theatre, and The Bell House. Much of their songwriting happens while walking in nature or journaling as part of their spiritual practice. As a faculty member at Club Passim and Not Sorry Productions, they teach songwriting, spirituality, and poetry.
Through it all, Westwater returns to the rhythms that ground them.
“Everything is cycle and change,” they say. “We don’t know what our lives are going to look like from one spring to the next, but we know spring comes. If we can hold both of those concepts as true at the same time, then I think we can have peace.”
This article appeared in the November/December 2025 issue of Spirituality & Health®: A Unity Publication. Subscribe now.
< Back to Spirituality & Health: A Unity Publication November/December 2025
About the Author
Annie L. Scholl is an North Carolina-based freelance writer who contributes to Daily Word® and Spirituality & Health®. Her work has been published on Huffington Post, Brevity, and The Sunlight Press. She recently finished her first memoir and blogs at anniescholl.com.