I haven’t written anything on Tumblr in a whiiiiiiiile. So long I don’t know where to begin and so I’ll begin with today. For some reason, I’ve been thinking about Baba Yaga and her house- well, it’s not some reason, I’ve been reading My Mother She Killed Me, My Father He Ate Me, which is a book of reworked fairy/ folk tales.  Baba Yaga is a character out of Russian folklore. She’s a witch that flies with a mortar and pestle and lives in a house with no windows, no doors, built upon dancing chicken legs. Often she’s portrayed as evil (she eats children) but just as often people seek Baba Yaga for wisdom. Wisdom that she’s not easily willing to give as every time she gives advice she ages one year. Her chicken home is surrounded with posts that have heads mounted on it, one post without- for your head. In order to access her house you must say,”Turn your back to the forest and your front to me” and the chicken legs will stop dancing, the front door will open.  Those who seek Baba Yaga are on a quest and the only ones who are helped by her are pure of spirit and very polite- because otherwise, well, you’re screwed. If you don’t respect your elders or take care of her creatures you’ll be Baba Yaga’s lawn ornament.  Why do I think of Baba Yaga? I think of journeys, of necessary evils, of challenges, of duplicity, and houses made on dancing chicken legs. I think of politeness, which is often not thought of at all anymore. I think of having the wrong questions.  I think of Baba Yaga, there in her chicken legged house, both good and bad, ready for the asking. 

I haven’t written anything on Tumblr in a whiiiiiiiile. So long I don’t know where to begin and so I’ll begin with today. For some reason, I’ve been thinking about Baba Yaga and her house- well, it’s not some reason, I’ve been reading My Mother She Killed Me, My Father He Ate Me, which is a book of reworked fairy/ folk tales. 

Baba Yaga is a character out of Russian folklore. She’s a witch that flies with a mortar and pestle and lives in a house with no windows, no doors, built upon dancing chicken legs. Often she’s portrayed as evil (she eats children) but just as often people seek Baba Yaga for wisdom. Wisdom that she’s not easily willing to give as every time she gives advice she ages one year. Her chicken home is surrounded with posts that have heads mounted on it, one post without- for your head. In order to access her house you must say,”Turn your back to the forest and your front to me” and the chicken legs will stop dancing, the front door will open. 

Those who seek Baba Yaga are on a quest and the only ones who are helped by her are pure of spirit and very polite- because otherwise, well, you’re screwed. If you don’t respect your elders or take care of her creatures you’ll be Baba Yaga’s lawn ornament. 

Why do I think of Baba Yaga? I think of journeys, of necessary evils, of challenges, of duplicity, and houses made on dancing chicken legs. I think of politeness, which is often not thought of at all anymore. I think of having the wrong questions. 

I think of Baba Yaga, there in her chicken legged house, both good and bad, ready for the asking. 

Wednesday Jan 1 @ 08:57pm with 0 notes