This is the story that begins when you are walking alone in the forest at night. You've been warned not to go into the woods after dark because of the witch. She eats children like you. You've been wandering in the dark for hours now, and your light is beginning to dim, it will be burned out soon and all you'll have is moonlight and the occasional, lazy glow of a fire fly. Certainly not enough to keep you from tripping over tangled roots or alert you of the wolves that have been patiently circling you, waiting for this moment.
It's so dark you can barely make out the forms of the trees, but in the distance, there is a warm orange glow, a sunrise all of its own. As you get closer you hear cackling and the singing of a mad woman. Your heart is pounding; you have two options, remain in the dark and risk being eaten by wolves, or go towards this light and see what kind of person has created it.
You decide to find her, and what you see is unsettling. It is a cottage, but the fence surrounding it is made from human bones. The cottage itself is hoisted on two massive chicken legs, and in front of it is a woman perched on the edge of a mortar. cackling madly. She has a long, thin nose that reaches into the dip of the mortar, and through her demented smile you see her iron teeth.
This is Baba Yaga. You've heard of her, and your instinct is to run, but she sees you and you find yourself moving closer.
"Well?" She rasps at you through fits of laughter, "What brings you here?"
"I'm lost, I want to go home." You reply.
"Well, you've come to the wrong place," She snickers. She motions towards you with a bony finger capped with a yellowed nail. "Might as well come closer."
Shit. This is how it happens. This is how you die. You get eaten by a fucking witch.
You are so fucked, you're so stupid, you're walking towards her. You want to run but you walk towards her like she's at the end of a tight rope. There's no ground any more, no sky, no trees, just the long, narrow path towards the crazy old crone that's about to cook you into soup without a second thought.
As you draw closer you see how complicated her old skin is. Its not only wrinkled, it's covered in warts and tree bark, diseases both human and ethereal. Her dark, beady eyes are sunken deep into her bony skull, and you are so close that she whacks you with the tip of her long nose. Her garden hose nose with a mole with a hair on the end of it. By the look of her, she hasn't gotten much sun, but that kind of mole should definitely get checked out. She giggles at you as you walk right up to her. You are inches away and smell her rotten breath, see her dry, mucus coated tongue.
"I can help you get home," Baba Yaga whispers as she clears her throat, "But only if you clean my cottage."
You are taken into the cottage on chicken's legs, which is bigger than your last studio apartment, at least. Most of it is enveloped by a giant, bubbling cauldron, and again, it hits you.
Shit. She's going to eat me, I'm going to die. This is how it happens. I'm going to do witch chores and then I'm going to be soup. I'm so stupid, I walked right into her house and everything. She might ask me to chop myself into little pieces and even though I don't know why, I'd do it without question.
You complete her tasks, but they aren't as ordinary as doing your own laundry would be. In the process, you lose a foot, and in exchange, Baba Yaga offers you a gift: the skull of some poor bastard who didn't clean her house so well. His soul lights up the cavity of the empty skull. She informs you that the light from the skull will get brighter as you get closer to home, and dimmer if you're heading away. She's given you a gift, a way out, and let you keep your life, if not your foot.
The endings of fairy tales always seem kind of lacking in satisfaction, don't they? They always seem to fade out, they're either milquetoast or tragic, or in some rare cases, people get married which is pretty okay given the time period they're written in.
This story is about the Baba Yaga, but the thing is, this witch wasn't just the old crone standing in front of you; she was all of those whispers of doubt and certain doom you had as you walked up to her, as you entered her house. Baba Yaga is scary, but she is also fear. That's what makes her folklore so fascinating; in most of her depictions, she can be maternal and helpful or she can be the cause of your undoing. We will never know what her intentions are. Sometimes she offers good advice or keeps us safe, other times she's there to eat us. Effectively, she plays the role of your amygdala.
Your amygdala as an organ is crazy complex and handles more than just fight or flight, by the way. It receives input from just about everything, it's responsible for emotional learning and development and also handles memory. It's a complicated little thing, and it's also greatly responsible for your fear, which I imagine is why people suffering from mass anxiety find it seeping into pretty much everything; the control room is kind of the same. The important thing to remember is that fear instinct isn't inherently bad, in fact, it's necessary; it's what kept you out of the mouths of the wolves, remember them? "The only thing to fear is fear itself" is a fun fortune cookie mantra but entirely untrue. Fear is to be trusted with discerning.
Calling it Baba Yaga instead of fear can make that big emotional concept seem more definite. You can look a witch in the eye because it has a face. It's hard to internalize looking your fear in the eye, seeing yourself and your big, complex chambers of consciousness without becoming confused. Her cryptic motives and often terrifying tasks that may leave you maimed are also good parallels for fear; usually, the objective of being afraid is to get into a situation where you don't have to be any more. How that happens is up to you and your brain. Learning to identify what is your fear, the witch in your head, can help you face external anxiety or fears more rationally.
If you don't know what Baba Yaga looks like, you'll be terrified of everything. You won't learn the difference between a witch or a tree stump, and you'll become the kind of person who is afraid to leave their house for fear of getting lost. Remember, you know what happens when you run, or avoid her altogether, but you can't know for sure what happens when you confront her. She may even be the only one who knows how to bring you to safety.
These articles focus more on psychology or how individuals function in a society. They're about as well thought out as anything else on the internet, and there's probably typos.