Baba Yaga by Rowan Morgana

[Dept of PMM Artists & things]

Baba Yaga is a Russian Goddess of birth and death that has devolved into a child-eating boogie-witch whose name was used to threaten children into obedience. “Be good or Baba Yaga will eat you!” She appears as a deformed and ferocious looking elderly woman who is thin as a skeleton. It’s no wonder that she frightens children; she has iron teeth that stick out like boar’s tusks, hands that are tipped with bear claws, wears a necklace of human skulls, and smokes a pipe.

Baba Yaga also possesses a potion that can transform her into a beautiful young woman. She never transforms to seduce or to obtain love, she changes so that she may deceive and misguide strangers. The lesson that she teaches is that not all is as it seems, and one must be wary of beauty as well as ugliness.

Baba Yaga lives in the heart of a deep, birch forest in a little hut named Izbushka (which means little hut) that stands on stilt-like chicken’s feet. The hut is a sentient being that will obey orders and can move. Izbushka moves through the forest with a spinning motion to imitate the spinning of the earth, screeching and groaning all the while. It will only come to rest when a special incantation is spoken, then the door flings itself open with a loud crash. The house itself is made of bones that Baba Yaga has collected, the door posts are leg bones, the lock is a sharp-toothed mouth, the bolt is a hand. The windows serve as eyes. The fence surrounding Izbushka is made of 12 bones capped with skulls whose empty eye sockets glow in the dark. The twelve fence posts correspond to the 12 signs of the Zodiac. Wherever the house is located, it is always at the border of the realms of death and the afterlife.

Inside the house is an oven that Baba Yaga sleeps upon and where she attempts to roast children and hapless heroes that have stumbled across her forest dwelling. She is almost always unsuccessful in cooking her guests, and is quite often tricked into the oven where she herself is roasted. She has been burned up, but will always be reborn again and can never truly die.


Baba Yaga rides through the forest perched in a mortar pushing herself across the forest floor with a pestle. The mortar is also capable of carrying her through the air and is then steered by the pestle. Like all witches, she has a broom but she never rides it, instead she uses it to sweep away all traces of her presence. BabaYaga’s broom is made of birch twigs.

You will know that Baba Yaga is present when a wind begins to blow, causing trees to creak and groan and leaves to swirl through the air. You may hear the shrieking and wailing of the spirits that often accompany her on her way. She is accompanied by three horsemen who are her servants representing dawn, sun and night. In this aspect she is the Mistress of Time who measures the Turning of the Wheel.

Though Baba Yaga is mostly seen as a terrifying old hag, but she can also be a helper and wise woman. She sometimes gives advice and magickal gifts to heroes and the pure of heart. To those who dare to ask, she will sometimes impart wisdom, knowledge and truth. In her aspect as Primal Mother, she rescues, nurtures and destroys. She is the guardian spirit of life and death, wild and untameable, she is the spirit of nature who brings wisdom and death of ego through spiritual death and re-birth. Her awesome power is to be feared and respected, but if you have the courage to confront her you will be rewarded with the wisdom and power of the grandmother/ crone aspect of your life.

Baba knows every botanical secret and may or may not reveal them to you

PLANET: Sun

ELEMENT: Fire

ANIMALS: All animals but especially horses, hedgehogs, snakes, and dragons

BIRDS: Crows, ravens, and owls which are not only hunting birds but are also psychopomps who bear a dead soul on a journey or a living person to the Underworld.

PLANTS: Poppies, black sunflowers, medicinal herbs, rye

OFFERINGS: Traditional Russian foods, the more difficult to make the more she will like it. Tobacco, black Russian Caravan tea, and vodka.

Rowan Morgana 2014

Sources – The Encyclopedia of Spirits by Judika Illes
Wikipedia
Old Russia.net
Russiapedia.com
Baba Yaga - Witch, Crone and Archetype
Baba Yaga: The Wild Witch of the East in Russian Fairy Tales

[Dept of PMM Artists & things]

Baba Den or Grandmother's Day for the Goddess Baba Yaga. Connect with Her today, release all that is no longer serving you. Unleash your Wild Woman spirit.
Full Ritual can be found here: http://sacredwicca.jigsy.com/baba-yaga-grandmother-ritual

[Dept of PMM Artists & things]

Bre Geier 11:29in the evenin' Jan 19
BABA YAGA

Suggested MANTRA: Rebirth

Suggested AFFIRMATIONS:

I am revitalised

My insecurity is replaced with wisdom

At my centre there is an incandescent fire

I release myself from harmful judgements

My new lifepath reveals itself to me

I say goodbye to destructive influences

MORE about Baba Yaga...

Related ESSENCES: Patchouli, sandalwood, geranium

Related GEMSTONES: Garnet, bloodstone, tourmaline, smoky quartz (red stones), scapolite, amazonite, chiastolite, prase

The ancient Slavic goddess Baba Yaga is the wild old crone guardian of the Water of Life and Death. She is the goddess of death and birth associated with Autumn, who sings while sprinkling corpses with the Water of Life to let them be reborn. Although she is fearsome to look upon, like all forces of nature that are often wild and untamed, she can also be kind.

Often depicted living in the deep centre of earth, or in a hut (sometimes on chicken legs), surrounded by a fence of bones, she represents the power of Old Age, of Witch, and of the Life Cycle that is birth, death, and rebirth. She is therefore also associated with birch forests (birch being the tree of beginnings and endings). Another image is that of "White Lady", or Death Crone, as she is stiff and white and carved of bone ... (she can also be referred to as Goddess of Old Bones).

If you're feeling directionless and an emptiness in the spirit and emotion, acknowledge Baba Yaga's presence in you. Being depressed is not to be feared, rather the process and emotion should be honored and allowed to move on. While the Water of Life and Death can be taken by trickery or synthetic means (for example through drugs), by taking time to work in gentle silence, the Water can also be given to you as a gift.

Behold Baba Yaga, she is here to force us to examine our soul in the dark mirror and to be forever transformed.

Wear black, red and white scarves this week and use the colours to remind you of Baba Yaga. Black represents night and the breakdown of the personality (the crushed and broken body ready for Baba Yaga's Water of Life and Death), white represents the dawn and purification (the gift of the Water of Life and Death), and red represents day and vital life force (the powerful rebirth).

Work through the cycles of dawn, day and night gently, succumb to Baba Yaga's vibrations and trust that she will be kind to you. At the end of the week say good-bye to the destructive influences as you tie the scarves around a tree in your garden. There they will be connected to the earth via the tree's roots, tapping into kundalini energy of the dark side, and also to the wind which will pick up your depression and carry it away.
Baba Yaga
(Russia)

O nce upon a time an old man, a widower, lived alone in a hut with his
daughter Natasha. Very merry the two of them were together, and they used to
smile at each other over a table piled with bread and jam, and play
peek-a-boo, first this side of the samovar, and then that. Everything went
well, until the old man took it into his head to marry again.
So the little girl gained a stepmother. After that
everything changed. No more bread and jam on the table, no more playing
peek-a-boo around the samovar as the girl sat with her father at tea. It was
even worse than that, because she was never allowed to sit at tea at all
anymore. The stepmother said that little girls shouldn't have tea, much less
eat bread with jam. She would throw the girl a crust of bread and tell her
to get out of the hut and go find someplace to eat it. Then the stepmother
would sit with her husband and tell him that everything that went wrong was
the girl's fault. And the old man believed his new wife.
So poor Natasha would go by herself into the shed in the
yard, wet the dry crust with her tears, and eat it all by herself.
Then she would hear the stepmother yelling at her to come in
and wash up the tea things, and tidy the house, and brush the floor, and
clean everybody's muddy boots.
One day the stepmother decided she could not bear the sight
of Natasha one minute longer. But how could she get rid of her for good?
Then she remembered her sister, the terrible witch Baba Yaga, the
bony-legged one, who lived in the forest. And a wicked plan began to form in
her head.
The very next morning, the old man went off to pay a visit
to some friends of his in the next village. As soon as the old man was out
of sight the wicked stepmother called for Natasha.
"You are to go today to my sister, your dear little aunt,
who lives in the forest," said she, "and ask her for a needle and thread to
mend a shirt."
"But here is a needle and thread," said Natasha, trembling,
for she knew that her aunt was Baba Yaga, the witch, and that any child who
came near her was never seen again.
"Hold your tongue," snapped the stepmother, and she gnashed
her teeth, which made a noise like clattering tongs. "Didn't I tell you that
you are to go to your dear little aunt in the forest to ask for a needle and
thread to mend a shirt?"
"Well, then," said Natasha, trembling, "how shall I find
her?" She had heard that Baba Yaga chased her victims through the air in a
giant mortar and pestle, and that she had iron teeth with which she ate
children.
The stepmother took hold of the little girl's nose and
pinched it.
"That is your nose," she said. "Can you feel it?"
"Yes," whispered the poor girl.
"You must go along the road into the forest till you come to
a fallen tree," said the stepmother, "then you must turn to your left, and
follow your nose and you will find your auntie. Now off with you, lazy one!"
She shoved a kerchief in the girl's hand, into which she had packed a few
morsels of stale bread and cheese and some scraps of meat.
Natasha looked back. There stood the stepmother at the door
with her arms crossed, glaring at her. So she could do nothing but to go
straight on.
She walked along the road through the forest till she came
to the fallen tree. Then she turned to the left. Her nose was still hurting
where the stepmother had pinched it, so she knew she had to go on straight
ahead.
Finally she came to the hut of Baba Yaga, the bony-legged
one, the witch. Around the hut was a high fence. When she pushed the gates
open they squeaked miserably, as if it hurt them to move. Natasha noticed a
rusty oil can on the ground.
"How lucky," she said, noticing that there was some oil left
in the can. And she poured the remaining drops of oil into the hinges of the
gates.
Inside the gates was Baba Yaga's hut. It wasn't like any other hut she had
ever seen, for it stood on giant hen's legs and walked about the yard. As
Natasha approached, the house turned around to face her and it seemed that
its front windows were eyes and its front door a mouth. A servant of Baba
Yaga's was standing in the yard. She was crying bitterly because of the
tasks Baba Yaga had set her to do, and was wiping her eyes on her petticoat.

"How lucky," said Natasha, "that I have a handkerchief." She untied her
kerchief, shook it clean, and carefully put the morsels of food in her
pockets. She gave the handkerchief to Baba Yaga's servant, who wiped her
eyes on it and smiled through her tears.
By the hut was a huge dog, very thin, gnawing an old bone.
"How lucky," said the little girl, "that I have some bread
and meat." Reaching into her pocket for her scraps of bread and meat,
Natasha said to the dog, "I'm afraid it's rather stale, but it's better than
nothing, I'm sure." And the dog gobbled it up at once and licked his lips.
Natasha reached the door to the hut. Trembling, she tapped
on the door.
"Come in," squeaked the wicked voice of Baba Yaga.
The little girl stepped in. There sat Baba Yaga, the
bony-legged one, the witch, sitting weaving at a loom. In a corner of the
hut was a thin black cat watching a mouse-hole.
"Good day to you, auntie," said Natasha, trying to sound not
at all afraid.

"Good day to you, niece," said Baba Yaga.

"My stepmother has sent me to you to ask for a needle and
thread to mend a shirt."
"Has she now?" smiled Baba Yaga, flashing her iron teeth,
for she knew how much her sister hated her stepdaughter. "You sit down here
at the loom, and go on with my weaving, while I go and fetch you the needle
and thread."
The little girl sat down at the loom and began to weave.
Baba Yaga whispered to her servant, "Listen to me! Make the
bath very hot and scrub my niece. Scrub her clean. I'll make a dainty meal
of her, I will."
The servant came in for the jug to gather the bathwater.
Natasha said, "I beg you, please be not too quick in making the fire, and
please carry the water for the bath in a sieve with holes, so that the water
will run through." The servant said nothing. But indeed, she took a very
long time about getting the bath ready.
Baba Yaga came to the window and said in her sweetest voice,
"Are you weaving, little niece? Are you weaving, my pretty?"
"I am weaving, auntie," said Natasha.
When Baba Yaga went away from the window, the little girl
spoke to the thin black cat who was watching the mousehole.
"What are you doing?"
"Watching for a mouse," said the thin black cat. "I haven't
had any dinner in three days."
"How lucky," said Natasha, "that I have some cheese left!"
And she gave her cheese to the thin black cat, who gobbled it up. Said the
cat, "Little girl, do you want to get out of here?"
"Oh, Catkin dear," said Natasha, "how I want to get out of
here! For I fear that Baba Yaga will try to eat me with her iron teeth."
"That is exactly what she intends to do," said the cat. "But
I know how to help you."
Just then Baba Yaga came to the window.
"Are you weaving, little niece?" she asked. "Are you weaving
my pretty?"
"I am weaving, auntie," said Natasha, working away, while
the loom went clickety clack, clickety clack.
Baba Yaga went out again.
Whispered the thin black cat to Natasha: "There is a comb on
the stool and there is a towel brought for your bath. You must take them
both, and run for it while Baba Yaga is still in the bath-house. Baba Yaga
will chase after you. When she does, you must throw the towel behind you,
and it will turn into a big, wide river. It will take her a little time to
get over that. When she gets over the river, you must throw the comb behind
you. The comb will sprout up into such a forest that she will never get
through it at all."
"But she'll hear the loom stop," said Natasha, "and she'll
know I have gone."
"Don't worry, I'll take care of that," said the thin black
cat.
The cat took Natasha's place at the loom.
Clickety clack, clickety clack; the loom never stopped for a
moment.
Natasha looked to see that Baba Yaga was still in the
bath-house, and then she jumped out of the hut.
The big dog leapt up to tear her to pieces. Just as he was
going to spring on her he saw who she was.
"Why, this is the little girl who gave me the bread and meat
" said the dog. "A good journey to you, little girl," and he lay down with
his head between his paws. She petted his head and scratched his ears.
When she came to the gates they opened quietly, quietly,
without making any noise at all, because of the oil she had poured into
their hinges before.
Then -- how she did run!
Meanwhile the thin black cat sat at the loom. Clickety clack
clickety clack, sang the loom; but you never saw such a tangle of yarn as
the tangle made by that thin black cat.
Presently Baba Yaga came to the window.
"Are you weaving, little niece?" she asked in a high-pitched
voice. "Are you weaving, my pretty?"
"I am weaving, auntie," said the thin black cat, tangling
and tangling the yarn, while the loom went clickety clack, clickety clack.
"That's not the voice of my little dinner," said Baba Yaga,
and she jumped into the hut, gnashing her iron teeth. There at the loom was
no little girl, but only the thin black cat, tangling and tangling the
threads!
"Grrr!" said Baba Yaga, and she jumped at the cat. "Why didn
t you scratch the little girl's eyes out?"
The cat curled up its tail and arched its back. "In all the
years that I have served you, you have given me only water and made me hunt
for my dinner. The girl gave me real cheese."
Baba Yaga was enraged. She grabbed the cat and shook her.
Turning to the servant girl and gripping her by her collar, she croaked,
Why did you take so long to prepare the bath?"
"Ah!" trembled the servant, "in all the years that I've
served you, you have never so much as given me even a rag, but the girl gave
me a pretty kerchief."
Baba Yaga cursed her and dashed out into the yard.

Seeing the gates wide open, she shrieked, "Gates! Why didn't
you squeak when she opened you?"
"Ah!" said the gates, "in all the years that we've served
you, you never so much as sprinkled a drop of oil on us, and we could hardly
stand the sound of our own creaking. But the girl oiled us and we can now
swing back and forth without a sound."
Baba Yaga slammed the gates closed. Spinning around, she
pointed her long finger at the dog. "You!" she hollered, "why didn't you
tear her to pieces when she ran out of the house?"
"Ah!" said the dog, "in all the years that I've served you,
you never threw me anything but an old bone crusts, but the girl gave me
real meat and bread."
Baba Yaga rushed about the yard, cursing and hitting them
all, while screaming at the top of her voice.
Then she jumped into her giant mortar. Beating the mortar
with a giant pestle to make it go faster, she flew into the air and quickly
closed in on the fleeing Natasha.
For there, on the ground far ahead, she soon spied the girl
running through the trees, stumbling, and fearfully looking over her
shoulder.
"You'll never escape me!" Baba Yaga laughed a terrible laugh
and steered her flying mortar straight downward toward the girl.
Natasha was running faster than she had ever run before.
Soon she could hear Baba Yaga's mortar bumping on the ground behind her.
Desperately, she remembered the thin black cat's words and threw the towel
behind her on the ground. The towel grew bigger and bigger, and wetter and
wetter, and soon a deep, broad river stood between the little girl and Baba
Yaga.
Natasha turned and ran on. Oh, how she ran! When Baba Yaga
reached the edge of the river, she screamed louder than ever and threw her
pestle on the ground, as she knew she couldn't fly over an enchanted river.
In a rage, she flew back to her hut on hen's legs. There she gathered all
her cows and drove them to the river.
"Drink, drink!" she screamed at them, and the cows drank up
all the river to the last drop. Then Baba Yaga hopped into her giant mortar
and flew over the dry bed of the river to pursue her prey.
Natasha had run on quite a distance ahead, and in fact, she
thought she might, at last, be free of the terrible Baba Yaga. But her heart
froze in terror when she saw the dark figure in the sky speeding toward her
again.
"This is the end for me!" she despaired. Then she suddenly
remembered what the cat had said about the comb.
Natasha threw the comb behind her, and the comb grew bigger
and bigger, and its teeth sprouted up into a thick forest, so thick that not
even Baba Yaga could force her way through. And Baba Yaga the witch, the
bony-legged one, gnashing her teeth and screaming with rage and
disappointment, finally turned round and drove away back to her little hut
on hen's legs.
The tired, tired, girl finally arrived back home. She was
afraid to go inside and see her mean stepmother, so instead she waited
outside in the shed.
When she saw her father pass by she ran out to him.
"Where have you been?" cried her father. "And why is your
face so red?"
The stepmother turned yellow when she saw the girl, and her
eyes glowed, and her teeth ground together until they broke.
But Natasha was not afraid, and she went to her father and
climbed on his knee and told him everything just as it had happened. When
the old man learned that the stepmother had sent his daughter to be eaten by
Baba Yaga, the witch, he was so angry that he drove her out of the hut and
never let her return.

From then on, he took good care of his daughter himself and never again let a stranger come between them. Over a table piled high with bread and jam, father and daughter would again play peek-a-boo back and forth from behind the samovar, and the two of them lived happily ever after.