The Norwegian folktale “East of the Sun West of the Moon” and the Japanese (indigenous Ainu) folktale entitled “Crescent Moon Bear” are folktales featuring fearless young women who dare to engage in greater intimacy with a bear whether it is marrying a bear, or having the courage to pluck the whisker of a bear. Both involve traversing a formidable boreal forest landscape to save their husbands from a “spell”. These folktales are so strikingly similar in theme and shared values, giving voice to their parallel nature deepens our sense of interconnected history, and rekindles a feeling of belonging to a shared storied boreal landscape, weaving together people, bears, ancestry, stories and hearts. . .

October is a vitally mystical and folklore-rich time of year, a between and betwixt season of transformation characterized by the changing colors of the leaves and filled with heroes and heroines who symbolize our own transformative potential. One such folk heroine is the quintessential enigmatic wilderness witch Baba Yaga: a courageous crone who dares to dance with the dying and also the mystical old mother who midwifes new life. She resonates with the spirit of Autumn telling us we can be beautiful as we let go of our old selves to make room for what is waiting to emerge, vibrant and gold . . .

In the heart of the Mongolian grasslands wolves and sheep herders once lived in harmony with each other. Though wolves were regarded as an "enemy" and often killed and ate the sheep these nomadic herders depended on for their livelihood, wolves also modeled strategies of survival that herders adopted enabling them to live for generations in the harsh landscape. Like the Taoist symbol of Yin and Yang, the story of Mongolian wolves is a spiritual one about living in harmony with our greatest fear, learning from our greatest enemy, and ultimately developing enough consciousness to recognize the divine-enemy-teacher residing within each of us.

Whether it is a giant beanstalk, benevolent flowers, wise herbs, sacred birch goddesses or mossy coats, many ancient folktales remind us how our ancestors lived in harmony with plants, relying on them not only for sustenance but also for healing, protection, wisdom, empowerment and inspiration. Ancient plant folktales encapsulate wisdom and teachings passed down through generations, reflecting the roles that flora and fauna have played for our survival, cultural identity and in the mythic imagination, often intersecting all three.

Fox Woman, also known as Kitsune in Japanese folklore, is a shapeshifting trickster character who resembles the elusive, clever fox from the wild. Although this folktale comes in many different variations and her story is told in many tongues, what they all have in common is a trickster character who shifts between human and fox, sometimes androgynous, living in multiple worlds, questioning the order of things through her mischief, playfulness, wit, deception, magic and defiance of authority. The tale of Fox Woman is almost always makes visible the tension between the need for order, and its reinvention.

In the beloved Egyptian myth of Isis, Isis searches for the scattered parts of her murdered husband’s body, resembles him, and breathes life back into him, and makes love to him, which then gives birth to Horus who becomes the next Pharaoh of Egypt. Isis shows us that taking the aerial point of view, or birds-eye-view, gives us the power to hold the tension between what is dissolving and what is emerging, to see the whole instead of only the parts, and to recognize our own agency in the potential for transformation.

There is an archetype that weaves its way through many ancient myths and folktales that centers around the sacred work of recovering and reassembling what has been disassembled. This ritual of singing over the ancestral bones, honoring, mourning over, and reclaiming what has been buried or lost, is a devotional act. In these stories, grieving takes center stage and plays a transformative role allowing the folk-heroine or mythological heroine to reach a place of wholeness, aliveness, and joy again.

Befriending the “monster”, or overcoming one’s fear of the “other”, is a common theme in many folktales where the relationship between the two main characters, one human and the other a wild animal, shifts from one of hunter and prey, to one of parent and child, ancestor and descendant, brother and sister, or lovers. It is a voice from the past that shows up again and again in stories from around the world suggesting that planetary ecological restoration may depend not only on conservation efforts but is, at its heart, a relational job calling for us to re-story ourselves into belonging with the wild.

There is an ancient folktale from the desert Southwest about “a woman who was a wolf who was a woman” also known as “Loba Girl” or Wolf Woman who climbs the canyons, and sifts through the arroyos or dry riverbeds, gathering wolf bones over which she sings, until they spring back to life and run off laughing with the voice of a woman. Inspired by Dr Clarissa Pinkola Estés’ retelling of this story in her book Women Who Run With the Wolves: Myths and Stories of the Wild Woman Archetype, this folktale invites us to call back to life those buried and discarded parts of ourselves, so that we can find our true voice again.

It is not only humans that tell stories. . . In the voice of bright white feathers and a charming black cap, a story darts its way through gusts of wind off the coast of Massachusetts hatching out of makeshift nests of pebbles and dry grasses. during the months of April and May. It is a seasonal story with themes of reciprocity and interdependence between the arctic tern, a migrating bird, and local coastal cloudberry flowers suggesting that even temporary guest can still contribute to a landscape’s thriving.

Mossy Coat is an Old English fairytale about the ingenuity and creativity of a wild forager and weaver who sews her daughter a coat of wild mosses so she can disguise herself, escape poverty, avoid an unwanted marriage and determine her own destiny. It is how even a small diminutive plant like moss can be protective, nurturing, empowering and magical, and how a coat of moss gives the heroine a sense of wildness, freedom, and sovereignty over her own life. An enduring folktale that lives on like wild moss, wielding its quiet power. . .

The ocean is a prominent and enigmatic feature in many folktales around the world including: the Irish folktale of the Selkie, the Inuit folktale of Sedna, and the Vietnamese folktale of Dragon and the Crane. According to Carl Jung, the radical and inspirational psychoanalyst, we can explore the meaning of the ocean as a symbol of the unconscious and through this process we can find ways in which the characters’ struggles and transformations resonate with our own illuminating the path to our own self-discovery, forging a deeper connection to our own true authentic identity and our full potential.

There is a heartwarming folktale indigenous to Vietnam involving an unexpected romantic coupling between a dragon and a crane that is one of many endearing folktales that make up Vietnam’s rich heritage of maritime folklore. Since the beginning of time storied landscapes have included in-between, magical places like coastlines or intertidal areas between land and sea, and these are often sites of transformation, thresholds between worlds, and are infused with magic. The enduring wisdom of this story is about finding the hidden treasure that is birthed from unexpected connections, and when we choose to come together despite our differences.

There is a folktale about the importance of generosity when faced with a scarcity of resources that can be found in both Ukrainian folklore and in Abenaki folklore. In the Ukrainian version, woodland animals try to fit into a mitten to stay warm even though it is too small, and in the Abenaki version they are all coerced into a bag to feed a hunter and his grandmother even though taking all of them exceeds the hunter’s needs for the winter. Myths and stories that reveal shared values and themes despite having originated from two distinct cultures and landscapes reveals a collective consciousness: an undercurrent of synchronicities that connects us all together.

These twelve days between the Winter Solstice and the beginning of the next solar year are referred to as Yule or Yuletide in ancient Medieval Nordic folklore. What gifts does this sacred time belonging neither to the old year nor the new year offer us? How can we harness the transformative power of this bothness? Ancient folktales reveal that the past is not set-in-stone, but is continuously being reinvented, reimagined, and reweaved back into the upcycled tapestry of the present tense. This sacred time gives rise to the beautiful question: how can we cultivate new ways of relating to the past so we can move with wisdom into the future?

The first flakes of snow usher in the beginning of winter, and according to old Germanic folklore, they are the feathers from the featherbeds of Old Mother Goose. According to the Brothers Grimm, she may have been a goose herself, or shapeshifting between an elderly woman and a snow goose, because in some versions of the story she has a one large foot, like that of a goose, perhaps a splayed foot from pressing the treadle of her spinning wheel. Due to her shapeshifting nature between a white goose and an elderly woman, she represents both maiden and crone, as well as the transition between life and death, lightness and darkness, representing this transitional time of the year: the Winter Solstice.

Though the darker, colder season of winter is often associated with death and stagnation, folktales that feature winter and death reveal that darkness can offer a potential for spiritual enrichment and be the dark womb within which the seeds of new life incubate and begin to germinate. The darkness of winter and death is rich with meaning, and ripe with transformative potential if we choose to harness it, fearlessly welcome it, and recognize how it connects us to the great mystery of this wild and precious planet.

There is an ancient Inuit folktale featuring two friends: a snowy owl and a raven and how they came to have two strikingly different colors and decorative patterns. The story reveals how beauty is not attributable to an individual, but arises as a result of reciprocity, and mutual respect. In contrast to the ways we understand beauty in the dominant culture of today, this folktale offers us deep wisdom about how how beauty ought to be a celebration of those who create the objects of adornment, as well as the one adorned. . .and how beauty arises as a result of their collaborative effort.

Autumn’s late blooming flowers remind us, year after year, we are meant to be flowering right when we do. The late bloomer comes in many guises, and appears in the folklore of the Baba Yaga, creatrix and witch, and the Selkie, a shapeshifting seal woman. In a world that often glorifies early achievements and rapid success, these two ancient folktales of late bloomers are still remarkably relevant and timeless in their wisdom. They teach us that even in the midst of challenges that slow us down, there is always the capacity for growth, transformation, and the emergence of something truly extraordinary.

The Makers of Dreams is an ancient folktale from the Isle of Skye revealing the intimate relationship between dreams, wild birds and the seasonal changes in the landscape that happen at this time of year in the northern hemisphere. As the air cools, creatures of the earth settle into hibernation, and the nights become longer beckoning us to also sleep longer, and dream. Many species of birds begin migrating, and the journey between this world and the dream world that the story alludes to mimics the way the birds in the “real” outer world are literally journeying between landscapes and worlds as well.

Autumn gifts us with the beauty of dying leaves, or, in the words of Rebecca Solnit, the reminder that beauty and bereavement can sometimes intertwine. What the autumn reminds us of is how feelings of grief and loss (and the dying of the leaves) can be felt at the same times as we experience something beautiful and joyful (the vibrant golden colors of the leaves) and how this complex combination of opposites is often at the heart of our human experience and weaves its way into many ancient folktales.

Inspired by the Slavic Folktale Katrina and the Bright Falcon, featuring Baba Yaga, the enduring powerful female wilderness creatrix from Russian folklore, beautifully described and redefined by Natalia Clarke in her book Baba Yaga: Slavic Earth Goddess which she writes from her own Siberian heritage. The wisdom this folktale offers is how a deep relationship with a wild Falcon and an unconventional wild elder woman who lives in the deep forest, can be a pathway to birth our True Authentic Selves.

The ripening of local cranberries to crimson, the late-blooming rich yellow goldenrod flowers, and the variety of brown hues of dying leaves ushers in the beginning of autumn. I see a remarkable synchronicity in the colors of this landscape where I live in Massachusetts and the reds and golds that are considered colors of luck, happiness, and joy during a festival of my own heritage: the Mid-Autumn festival which is celebrated in Vietnam (known as Tết Trung Thu) on this full moon in September. Streets are lined with red and gold lanterns, and the rich brown color of traditional mooncakes eaten on this special day just adds to the magical similarity!

The North American indigenous folktale of the Three Sisters is told from Mexico to Montana, and teaches the ancient agricultural technique of planting corn, beans and squash together because each provides some benefit to the others’ growth and health. The Three Sisters celebrates a Sisterhood of mutual thriving characterized by reciprocity and interdependence: each Sister’s uniqueness is celebrated and recognized as important to the health of the whole. I love how planting and harvesting these Three Sisters nourishes our bodies as well as our spirits and communities.

Sharing several new handmade prints in my shop! Each print contains a precious folktale from the past, a mythos, reminding us of our ancient and intimate kinship with the wild, expressed with a multitude of endearing voices of the earth. Whether it is the sound of clanking antlers, or the mischievous pecking of a black crow, or the whisper of a tiger’s whiskers these heartwarming stories lyrically weave us into the circle of life and remind us of our extraordinary human imagination.

An endearing love story about a rare white Great Horned Owl who falls in love with a human woman, retold by Joseph Bruchac in his book Wabi: A Hero’s Journey. This Abenaki folktale suggests that nature is courting us, that there is a a romance taking place. . .a precious mythos from ancient times about the intimate and tender relationship between humans and the wild.

Like the concept of Yin and Yang, the folkloric archetype of opposing forces that create the cosmos, weaves its way into so many different landscapes and cultural traditions secretly behind a veil of different stories and visual motifs . . yet here it is hidden in plain sight, in the White Mountain Apache folktale of The Old Woman Who Weaves Together the World and the Black Crow who pecks at the loose ends and unravels it again. What wisdom might this folktale offer us in rethinking our relationship with the wild?

A reflection on the folk wisdom offered in The Magical Adventures of Pretty Pearl by Virginia Hamilton filled with beloved characters from African American folklore. How folklore and folk tradition bring a small community fugitives into deep relationship with the wild, and how enchantment and magic serve as a source of psychological resilience and practical survival in the face of unimaginable hardship.

Though some may see its delicate pink puffs of clustered flowers as a sign of fragility, the Smoke Tree is far from frail. Living between sidewalk cracks, in stone walls and quarries, and in the rocky foundations of houses, the smoke tree teaches us about resilience and transgression. The smoke tree is an elder who shows us how we, too, can resist and transgress what society tells us we cannot do.