Baubo and the Forgotten Art of Laughing

A myth for the female psyche in midlife.

We are living in, what would appear to be, an unprecedented age of wellness. Never before have women (and men) had access to such a vast array of tools which help us with everything from taming the monkey mind and finding enlightenment, to biohacking our way to immortality and manifesting the life we want. We have protocols for everything too - for sleeping, sunlight exposure, supplementing, fitness, nutrition and beyond. We journal, attend retreats, and faithfully perform our rituals of releasing what does not serve us.

Much of this is genuinely valuable and well‑intentioned. And yet, alongside it, I have begun to notice a subtle but troubling drift: the pathologisation of wellness itself, particularly for women, and particularly across social media. In a world where women already carry enormous emotional, relational, and practical loads, is another protocol really what is required? Or is it possible that in our pursuit of wellbeing we have forgotten one of the most powerful medicines available to us - the primal act of laughter? 

I am not referring to humour as deflection, but to laughter as medicine. The kind of laughter that has a visceral reaction in the body, where we have to take a deep breath in at the end, where we wipe tears from our eyes, and loosen those jaws after.

As a woman moving through the liminal terrain of midlife, I remain deeply committed to self‑enquiry and to cultivating the habits that support my mental and physical health. Inner work matters and my practices matter. That said, I have come to recognise that the moments in which I feel most restored and most alive, are not necessarily after the prescribed amount of sleep, but after time spent in the company of friends, experiencing the communal awe of a beautiful sunset, letting go and letting loose, and laughing till the cows come home.  These moments are not about distraction or pleasure seeking.  These moments recalibrate my nervous system and they charge my often drained batteries.  Let me share a little story to illustrate my point.

The Myth of Demeter, Persephone, and Baubo

In the ancient Greek myth, Demeter, the Earth Mother, loses her daughter Persephone, who is abducted by Hades and taken to the underworld. Hearing her daughter’s cries, Demeter sets out in a relentless search. She questions every person and every god, tries every possible path to retrieve her precious child, and when she does not succeed, she collapses into a deep depression.

The great Earth Mother withdraws from life. Her hair grows long and limp, her clothes become tattered, her body weak and frail. She no longer tends the earth. Crops fail, children are no longer born, and the land turns barren. Demeter has lost her mojo.

Then Baubo appears.

As Demeter sits beside a dried‑up well, weeping, an old woman approaches her.  This woman is Baubo, and she walks with a sort of dancing rhythm. As she draws near she stops lifts her skirt and flashes her vulva at Demeter and laughing as she does so. In shock, Demeter lets out a small squeal of a laugh. Baubo continues her dance until she is sitting down beside her, at which point she begins whispering earthy, irreverent jokes into Demeter’s ear and Demeter begins to laugh, harder and harder, until she is she is howling.

When the laughter quietens, Baubo and Demeter speak. Together with Baubo, and Hekat (the witch) she confronts Zeus, demanding Persephone’s return. Seeing the baron land, Zeus submits and commands Persephone be returned to her mother.  As Persephone leaves the underworld, Hades convinces her to have one pomegranate seed, her fate is sealed and the seasons are born.  For six months the sun shines, and earth flourishes while Persephone is with Demeter, and for six months the earth becomes dark and sleeps while Persephone is in the underworld.

Re‑imagining the Myth for Women in Midlife

If we look at this myth as an archetypal initiation, Demeter’s grief can be seen to mirror the midlife experience of many women.  We are competent, devoted go-getters, AND, we are increasingly weary. We carry families, careers, communities, and causes. When Persephone disappears, it is not only a daughter who is lost, but a vital part of Demeter.

In this telling, Persephone represents the woman’s creative, playful, sensual nature - the part that delights in beauty, curiosity, and aliveness. Her absence is felt as dullness, or the sense that life has become a list of obligations rather than an opportunity for exploration and mystery. Without Persephone, Demeter withers.

In her search, Demeter does exactly what us modern women are asked to do: she tries everything. She optimises. She cleanses. She practices self love. Yet none of this alone brings her vitality.

Baubo’s intervention is startling precisely because it is not corrective or offering up a solution. By exposing her vulva and telling little ‘dirty’ jokes, Baubo breaks the cycle, shifts perspective and lightens the moment. This act is not crude.  This act restores balance through the understanding of sacred female sexuality, humour, and irreverence.  In this moment a universal truth is remembered - laughter heals and restores.

Meeting Baubo

Over recent years, I have followed an intuitive pull toward the study of archetypes, myth, and cosmology, particularly those that illuminate women’s initiation through midlife. This living map has provided me with much needed orientation through a liminal season, revealing patterns that are ancient, cyclical, and shared across generations of women.

I first encountered Baubo in Women Who Run with the Wolves by Clarissa Pinkola Estés in my early twenties, though her story did not fully land then. I returned to it in my late thirties, and again in my mid‑forties, at which point Baubo stuck.  She is not only a character in a single Greek myth, but a recurring symbol of women’s sovereignty across cultures and eras. In The Metamorphosis of Baubo: Myths of Women’s Sexual Energy, Winifred Lubell traces her evolution from a figure of reverence and in ancient myths to one cast as obscene or dangerous in more recent times, closely linked to the the fear based need to control woman. She appears as Iambe in the Hymn to Demeter, as Bau in Sumerian texts, as Isis, and as Bona Dea - Goddess of Women.  She is present wherever women gather and are revered, and she always carries the same essential qualities: laughter as medicine, sexuality as sacred, and the restoration of balance.

As I walked the path with Baubo I began to look for representations of her in our world today, and names like Betty White, Maya Angelou and Joan Rivers sprung to mind. Followed quickly by Maya Rudolph, and Julia Louis-Dreyfus.  They all shock us with their humour, and get that electricity running inside again.  I think of Grandmother Willow in Pocahontas, and I think of my own grandmother, who always had a little ‘dirty’ joke to tell us, and was known to gather women in her home often.

And, I think of my mother, who has shown me throughout my life the power of humour as an antidote for suffering, always reminding me that, ‘humour dies last’.

Welcoming Baubo Back

So, how do we invite her back into our lives and laugh with her? We find ways to gather again as women, particularly in places and spaces that have a wildish nature present, or where the wild women within can emerge.   Women reconnect with this archetypal energy, when good food is prepared together, delightful drinks are served, when storytelling unfolds and dancing ensues. Time spent in these relational experiences are where Baubo emerges, and Persephone returns.

Baubo also arrives when we welcome sensuality back into our lives.  Reengaging with our senses changes one’s perspective on life itself.  Just by literally stopping to smell the roses, playing with clay, getting into a garden, or watching an episode of Golden Girls, we begin to sense the aliveness of the world around us, its playfulness, and it's beauty.  You will know what connects you back to your these parts of yourself.

Now of course I am well aware of the irony in the above, but what I am suggesting is not another thing to add to your list of things to do. The thing about laughter, is it happens naturally, when the moment is right.  But if this myth offers anything to women in our time it is a call to invite Baubo's essence back into our lives, to loosen up a little, maybe lift up a few skirts, and tell a few dirty jokes, not all the time, but as often as is humanly possible.