Transformation of the She-Bear
In ancient Greece, Artemis presided over rites of passage for girls transitioning from childhood to womanhood.
Photography Janko Ferlic
As we move from fall into winter, the nights grow longer and the darkness deepens. Winter invites us to rest and slow down—a contrast to the demands of our modern lives, where the holiday season often pushes us into activity and family gatherings. Yet, in the midst of this busyness, I remember to pause. To slow down. To step into stillness. I call on my inner bear to guide me into rest and recovery, to heal after a year moving through a deep grieving process. There is a quiet excitement within me—a sense of new beginnings and creative passion awakening. But instead of rushing forward, I choose to step back and reflect on the lessons this year has offered me.
The bear reconnects me to the dreamtime, hibernation cave, and protective, nurturing energy of the wild mother. This year, I felt drawn to explore our ancient relationship with the bear—a sacred animal with whom we share more than we might realize. Walking upright is only one of the similarities. Many of us grew up with a teddy bear, a loyal companion who provided comfort and safety. Bears appear in countless stories as wise, playful and protective beings—Winnie the Pooh, Paddington, and other friendly bears come to mind.
The human-bond with bears stretches back far beyond childhood stories. Bears and humans have shared a connection since ancient and prehistoric times, a relationship that is both revered and feared. The earliest evidence lies in prehistoric rock paintings at Chauvet Cave in southern France, which are estimated to be over 30,000 years old. These images reveal the bear as a powerful presence in the lives of early hunter-gatherers and even the Neanderthals. Across cultures and centuries, the bear has been honored in art, ritual, and rites of passage.
In Gallic tradition, the word Artio means bear. Artio is a Celtic goddess associated with wildlife, hibernation, and the cycles of rebirth. She is often depicted with an abundance of fruit, symbolizing the she-bear's return in springtime. Worshipped as a protector of both the wild and the maternal, Artio’s presence is found across Switzerland, Germany, and France. Joseph Campbell, in the Historical Atlas of World Mythology, calls her the sister of Artemis, the Greek goddess of the wilderness.
Artemis, often called the "bear-leader," is the goddess of the hunt, the wild forests, and the mountains. She is also the goddess of childbirth and protector of women. Born to Leto—a nature deity—Artemis arrived first and immediately assisted in the birth of her twin brother, Apollo. This act linked her to midwifery and the mysteries of childbirth. Associated with the moon, Artemis carries a wild, untamed spirit and rejects traditional roles of marriage and domestication.
In ancient Greece, Artemis presided over rites of passage for girls transitioning from childhood to womanhood. At Brauron, a sacred site on the east coast of Attica, Athenian girls between the ages of ten and fourteen participated in a festival honoring her. Here, they took part in rituals that symbolized their journey into adulthood, including an act where they would "play the she-bear." The exact nature of this ritual remains unclear, but it is believed to predate even the worship of Artemis herself. In this rite, the girls would leave their childhood behind, offering their dolls and toys as sacrifices. For Artemis's followers, this was a symbolic crossing—a shedding of the maiden to prepare for the possibility of motherhood.
Photograph by Conner Baker
This ancient rite mirrors the cycle of the she-bear. The first menstrual cycle marks a young girl’s capacity to bear children—a profound transformation from childhood into womanhood. Like the she-bear, who retreats into her cave for hibernation, women experience a natural need to withdraw during menstruation, pregnancy, childbirth, and early motherhood. This withdrawal allows for deep, instinctive transformation.
The reproductive cycle of the she-bear offers a powerful metaphor for this journey. In summer, male and female bears find each other and partake in a mating ritual. Afterward they separate. The she-bear retreats to her cave to hibernate, and it is during this period of rest that her embryos begin to develop. While she sleeps, the miracle of life unfolds. She awakens only to give birth in the heart of winter. Her cubs, born tiny and blind, nurse and grow in the safety of the cave. During this sacred time, their size may increase twelve or even twenty times. In spring, the mother bear emerges with her cubs, introducing them to the wild. They remain vulnerable but under her fierce protection, learning survival skills that will one day allow them to live on their own.
The bear’s cycle of retreat, birth, and emergence reflects the human experience of life, death, and rebirth. Winter is a time for inward reflection and stillness—a metaphorical death of the old to make space for the new. This process can be seen in our creative lives as well. Just as the she-bear retreats to her cave, we, too, need seasons of quiet—times to rest, dream, and gestate our creative visions. When the time is right, we will emerge with new life, ideas, and energy to share with the world.
Photograph by Janko Ferlic
On the winter solstice, the 21st of December, the sun is believed to be reborn. This turning point marks the end of the longest night and the return of the light. It is a powerful reminder that even in the depths of darkness, renewal is always possible. The lessons of the bear teach us to honor these cycles: to rest when needed, to nurture what is growing within us, and to trust that spring will come.
As I move into this winter season, I embrace my inner she-bear—her wisdom, her strength, and her sacred stillness. I honor the darkness as a time of restoration and creativity. I hold space for the dreams yet to be born and trust in the rhythm of the wild mother—the cycle of life, death, and rebirth that connects us all.