Vasalisa loses her mother, traditionally she dies, and weaves all her wisdom and love into a Doll which she gifts Vasalisa from her deathbed, requesting only that she feed her. A vessel or container of guidance from the nurturing feminine, who loves us, and wants the best for us. Handy eh. Couldnt we all do with some of that? Don't we all contain a little of that if we can simply (yeah easy) conjure it into being. One could ask what rituals or practices do this for self, or feed this...
Of course on her mothers passing, Vasalisa's father remarries in poor judgement, tis the way o things, resulting in a stepmother and sisters who treat her like personal shit kicker to them. Do this, do that, clean this, and she does so with pure heart (oh da polarities!). Meanwhile gaining consolation from the realm of the Doll's magic imbued with the energies of her maternal lineage. This eats at the (always) wicked step women.
Now another version of the wicked woman is the old witch, the Crone lets say. Traced from time immemorial the Wise Womans become the scary one with the advent of botox, consumerism and a few other faintly dogmatic belief systems used to justify mass murder. So back to the Crone, who's now become the pop you in the oven n gobble you up version of the woods dwelling solitudinal aka time for nature listening healer. (I warned you this was my interpretation!) Goddamn she should settle down and behave in a more respectable out of the way manner. One that has less to do with her heart chakra and more to do with bowing and scraping. Less eccentricity more conformity. That's not to say, however, that some older women aint scarey, or tough as. I caught the bus with two of them this morning.
So, one set of wicked women hear that the other one, the Crone, is in town, or clearing in the woods rather. That her chicken legged cottage, (eggs being fertility symbols of birth and beginnings tabootsky), which can move about has landed nigh. They decide a fab way to get rid of Vasalisa goody two shoes boring shmoring exwife child is to put out all the household fires and send her to Baba Yaga for replacements, sure she'll never return. Hence thats exactly what they do....
BUT, and don't you love BUTS...
As Vasalisa sets out scared out of her wits, in distress at entering said dark scarey forest, where wolves dwell, trolls, ghosts, ghoulies etc ol witchs, all those beings (slash aspects) that jump or creep up from behind to knock us into places of no returning to sanity or safety ever again. You know the places, we all have them, its just a matter of degree. She is carrying her trusty Doll, come Guide, Ally, Mentor, Peer. Therapist I hear you say, yes, possibly, although I hope your not making any assumptions! Spirit Kin, Mates. The part of life that shes nourished by paying attention to it, what else is feeding? Giving of energy, sharing. It leads her straight to Baba Yaga's door, bugger that Therapist, Practitioner, Friend, Trigger, Emotion, Lover, we say at this point. Past the skeletal fence with eyes a glow and straight on into the lair/ cosy home. Every half decent ol witch has an excellent lair / cosy home, which maybe her sleeping bag, or blanket, under a bus shelter and a pack of rollies. Just watch the pneumonia.
Im taking a long time to tell this tale, but basically Baba Yaga sets a series of imposssible and eeevvvil tasks like sorting wee Poppy seeds from a massive pile of black soil, and the Doll (inner Shamanka) assists her in doing the impossible. Having a life! Ooops, I mean, doing the sortings, cleanings (more) and weavings of straw into gold and such. Think I may have just blended another story in there somewhat. So in the end Baba Yaga goes 'Oh alright girly I shan't eat you after all, bugger it, Ill give you fire, so your peoples wont freeze to death or starve (which they are currently doing cos' Russia and Siberia get pretty chilly, something their wicked stepnesses didn't foresee in their planning or lack thereof).
So preparing to thank this frightening being, she stops as her Doll has jumped up and down in her pocket, 'Just get outta here' says she. So Vasalisa the brave, fair or wise, depending on which aspect the teller likes best, gets outta there and returns to the uncosy home. Making her ways through the woods led this time by the eerie lights of a skeletons head whos eyes are embers a glowing. The stepnesses are pretty cold and hungry by now, and hence pleased to see Vasalisa, who lights the fire and places the skull in the corner of the room. From whence it watchs. Watchs, looking, looking, at the usual dynamics.
What I enjoyed about the version we were told is that there were multiple endings, only one of which saw the stepnesses burnt to cinders by the skull. Theres enough of that goes on in the world. The endings I liked is where the stepnesses behaviour was changed by the process, or didnt but Vasalisa no longer cared. For she has faced the Crone, dark forest, trolls, ghosts, suchness (within and without) and lived.
I know this is a blog about plants and pencils, but also it is about Recovery, as was the workshop I attended. A word I will here spell with a capital R, because its important.
The specific word used will probably change in coming times (everything will), but the vibe is what counts. It counts because it is a vibe that describes our way/s through. Gardener, warrior, chef, artist, maker, healer, bush regenerator, taxi driver, crafter, cleaner, dish washer, academic, psychologist, Crone heh heh, poet, storyteller, social worker, peer support worker, apprentice, winemaker, farmer, grower, student, teacher, actor, ecologist, walker, journalist, meditator, shamanka, case manager, the possabilities are endless. Thats the point....
Its just there's a few Baba Yaga's n forebidding forests we needs be learn to navigate through along the way.
BUT, and don't you just love BUTS
there's a Doll in our pockets, if we can remember to feed her....
with our ways through...
By the by, its not always shes and hers, for the brothers who also walk this path....
Thanks...
Linkages:
Jenny Cargill-Strong http://www.storytree.com.au/
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