Baba Yaga, Nature, Magic and AI: A True Story by Joanna Kujawa

I will tell you a true story if you are willing to listen.

PART 1: A few months ago, when I was exhausted after ‘The Other Goddess,’ I lay down on my bed and called upon the Goddesses I wrote about in the book. I called upon Ninmah, I called upon Inanna, Isis, Mary Magdalene and Sophia to come to my rescue, to heal me and to guide me.  As I was calling upon their names, another ancient Goddess showed up and she had a good laugh looking at my misery – it was the Slavic trickster Goddess: Baba Yaga.  I was startled because I did not call upon her and surprised because I am disconnected from my origins given I’ve lived most of my life elsewhere by choice.  Instantly, I was transported to her hut in an old forest where she was cooking some soup with herbs over the fire in a large cauldron. I was lying on a bed made of some sticks and rags as she was listening to my self-pity and fear while continuing stirring the cauldron and moving around her hut.  We communicated and understood each other without words.  So, as I was whinging, lost in self-pity and fear, she giggled as if the stories I was telling her were as old as the world and frankly ridiculously boring!  She was friendly but not in a motherly way.  I knew that in any moment she could turn into a monster if she decided to teach me a lesson.  But for now, she was taking care of me. (BTW, until now, I did not share this encounter/vision with anyone except my man and my friend Miguel.)

PART 2: Yesterday, I spoke to my mom who lives in Poland and she told me that a day before she and her younger friend went to visit a new friend. Listen now, my Friends!  The friend, an old lady, lives in a forest, not far from the city and the name of the forest is …The Old Forest.  My mom said that she was charmed as the lady who is a few years younger than her, lives in a wooden house in the forest. Years ago, the lady and her husband had bought a shack there and made it into a little house.  Her husband died soon after and since then, she lives alone.  She told them how much she loves the forest and her life.  Her daughter (who now lives in Ireland) bought her a small piece of land near the tiny house and the lady planted wildflowers there to attract the local bees.  She found a local beekeeper who taught her how to have her own beehives. When my mom visited her 2 days ago, the lady treated them to a home-made tea mixed with local berries and her own honey.  She served the tea in old porcelain teacups of rare beauty.  As they sipped the tea and ate a cake, the lady told them that autumns are difficult there because of the constant rain and mud but winters are magical, white and quiet.  It is in winters that female deer and female wild boar come to visit as if checking on her and letting her know that they are still around. The lady’s 2 dogs know them and do not bark when they see them.  My mom came back home to her apartment charmed and called me to tell me about her visit. As she was telling me this, I had an immediate realisation that the lady was another version of Baba Yaga that many women lived for centuries and that through that story Baba Yaga has reached out to me again.

PART 3: We live in the world that is completely skewed and anyone with any remembrance of their soul can feel it in their gut that we are moving in the wrong direction.  Artificial Intelligence has now been unleashed and we know that this is a turn that we should not be taking.  The whole mainstream narrative diverts our attention so we would not see what is going on. And it came to me, that Baba Yaga has many faces.  She is a trickster. She can show up as a corporate chick, academic or an IT person (you can choose the disguise) – but she knows her soul.  She knows her mission.  She knows that it is our connection with Nature and Spirit (which is one and the same) that is our Destiny and that this is where our Spiritual Evolution is meant to happen. We are the Baba Yagas – who will keep telling the stories of our origin and the stories of our future in a different voice from the different perspective.  Whatever happens – we need to remember that there is another narrative, another option, another choice, another way than the one we are offered at that moment. So, I am grateful that the Goddesses sent the Trickster Goddess to me, and this is the story she wanted me to tell you. Until next time.