There comes a moment in every woman's life when the vibrant energy of the Maiden and the nurturing strength of the Mother evolve into something even deeper and richer: the wisdom of the Crone. This archetype, rich with insight and cloaked in mystery, emerges during (peri)menopause(post) as a culmination of the gifts and lessons from the earlier phases of life. From a Jungian perspective, this transition into the Crone phase is not merely a biological or chronological inevitability but a deeply symbolic and transformative process.

Honoring the Maiden & Mother Archetypes.

The Jungian concept of the archetype serves as a cornerstone of depth psychology, offering a framework for understanding the universal patterns that shape human experience. Archetypes are not static images or stereotypes but dynamic forces within the collective unconscious. They are the shared symbols and narratives that transcend culture and time, guiding our personal and collective journeys.

In the context of a woman’s life, the Maiden, Mother, and Crone archetypes offer a rich tapestry through which we can explore the phases of growth, creativity, and wisdom. Each archetype holds both light and shadow, inviting us to embrace the fullness of our humanity and find meaning in the unfolding of our stories.

Before stepping into the Crone phase, it is essential to honor the stages that precede it. As I explored in a previous blog post, the Maiden archetype is a time of exploration, curiosity, and boundless potential. She embodies the energy of new beginnings and the courage to dream. This phase teaches us to embrace the unknown, to take risks, and to trust in the unfolding of life.

I have also written about the Mother archetype, which is a time of creation, care, and connection. Whether expressed through raising children, nurturing relationships, or bringing projects and ideas to life, the Mother phase is a testament to the power of love and commitment. She teaches us the value of giving and receiving, of building and sustaining, and of finding strength in vulnerability.

Each of these archetypes contributes to the foundation upon which the Crone stands. They are not left behind but integrated, their lessons woven into the fabric of our being as we move forward.

The Crone & Menopause.

Dr. Sharon Blackie, a Jungian analyst and mythologist, joins other feminists who are redefining menopause and the Crone phase—viewing this life stage not as a decline but as a powerful transformation. This reinterpretation celebrates the Crone as a time of reclaiming agency, deepening wisdom, and stepping into one’s full authenticity. By shifting the narrative from loss to opportunity, Blackie invites us to see this transition as an initiation into a richer, more meaningful phase of life. Typically, menopause begins between the ages of 45 and 55, marking a natural biological transition that often coincides with profound psychological and spiritual shifts.

In Hagitude (2022), Blackie’s groundbreaking work celebrating women’s Middle Life, she writes:

If Western culture teaches us anything about elderhood, it’s that it’s supposed to mark the end of all meaningful stories, not the beginning of a new one. But there can be a certain perverse pleasure, as well as a sense of rightness and beauty, in insisting on flowering just when the world expects you to become quiet and diminish. Yes, elderhood begins with the often-shattering physical conflagration that is menopause, and it ends in certain death. But we each have choices about how to approach these final decades of our life. We can see them as a drawn-out process of inevitable and terminal decline, or we can see them as a time of fruition and completion.

The Crone as Archetype.

In Jungian thought, the Crone represents wisdom, intuition, and the culmination of lived experience. She is the truth-teller, the boundary-setter, and the keeper of sacred mysteries. As we approach this phase, we are called to integrate the lessons of our past, letting go of what no longer serves us and stepping into a fuller expression of our authentic selves.

The Crone archetype is often misunderstood. In a culture that prizes youth and productivity, the aging woman can feel invisible or irrelevant. Yet, in the Jungian framework, this invisibility is not a curse but an opportunity—a retreat into the depths where true power resides. It is in these depths that the Crone finds her voice and reclaims her agency.

The Crone and the Shadow.

The transition into the Crone phase invites us to confront our Shadow—those parts of ourselves we have disowned or repressed. Perhaps it's the anger we were taught to suppress as young women or the grief we were too busy mothering to fully process. The Crone asks us to turn toward these shadows with compassion, recognizing them as integral parts of our wholeness.

C.G. Jung wrote of shadow work:

Knowing your own darkness is the best method for dealing with the darkness’s of other people. One does not become enlightened by imagining figures of light, but by making the darkness conscious. The most terrifying thing is to accept oneself completely. Your visions will become clear only when you can look into your own heart. Who looks outside, dreams; who looks inside, awakes.

CG Jung, Letters Vol. 1

For many, this confrontation can feel daunting. The societal narrative often frames aging as a diminishment, a loss of beauty or vitality. But the Crone teaches us that true beauty lies in authenticity and that vitality springs from alignment with our inner truths. This is the work of the soul, and it is not for the faint-hearted.

Rituals of Transition.

How, then, do we honor this transition? Ritual can be a powerful tool. Whether it’s a solitary walk in nature, a gathering of women under the moon, or the creation of a personal altar, ritual grounds the psyche in the sacredness of this passage. It allows us to mark the shedding of old skins and the embracing of new identities.

Jungian analyst Marion Woodman often spoke of the body as a vessel for transformation, emphasizing how physical changes mirror the psychological shifts that occur throughout our lives. She believed that our bodies hold the imprints of our experiences, and by honoring these changes, we create space for deeper healing and integration. The body's transformations, especially in later life, become a symbolic process of shedding old identities and embracing new layers of wisdom and authenticity.

This is your body, your greatest gift, pregnant with wisdom you do not hear, grief you thought was forgotten, and joy you have never known.

Coming Home to Myself: Reflections for Nurturing a Woman’s Body and Soul: Daily Reflections for a Woman’s Body and Soul, Marion Woodman & Jill Mellick (2001)

As we age, our bodies change—a fact that can be met with resistance or curiosity. When we approach these changes symbolically, as external manifestations of internal growth, we align ourselves with the Crone’s wisdom. Our wrinkles become maps of our journeys; our gray hair, the crown of our sovereignty.

Living the Crone Life.

To live as the Crone is to live authentically. It is to speak truths that others may find uncomfortable, to embrace solitude without fear, and to nurture the seeds of wisdom for future generations. It is also to acknowledge our limitations, to rest when we are weary, and to let go of roles that no longer fit.

Again, Woodman:

Ursula LeGuin, in a commencement speech given years ago to the women of Mills College in Oakland, California, emphasized that women grow things in darkness, not in light. It is darkness—with its secrets, earthiness, and joys, with its pains, losses, and despair—that we celebrate. The woman who takes the time to grow herself in the darkness becomes familiar—perhaps for the first time—with the real source and containment of her psychic strength.

No longer is her strength dissipated in obeying an idealized father figure, in pleasing a lover, in trying to satisfy a perpetually unsatisfied mother figure, in accommodating to a patriarchal organization or culture, in appeasing the inner witch who tells her she is worthless. No longer is her strength lost to obeying compulsions, drives, and obsessions that can slip in during the dark night of the soul and substitute for the real thing.

And what is the real thing, the thing for which she longs? The love affair with her own spirit, the inner marriage that commits her to her destiny, the rituals of soul that feed her deepest hunger, and the sense of being pregnant with her Self, her creative essence.

Coming Home to Myself: Reflections for Nurturing a Woman’s Body and Soul: Daily Reflections for a Woman’s Body and Soul, Marion Woodman & Jill Mellick (2001)

In this way, the Crone becomes a guide not only for ourselves but for our communities. She models a way of being that values depth over superficiality, connection over competition, and presence over productivity. Her very existence is a countercultural act, a reminder that aging is not an endpoint but a continuation of the soul’s journey.

Conclusion.

The transition into the Crone phase is a profound initiation, one that calls us to embrace the totality of who we are. From a Jungian perspective, it is the culmination of the individuation process, a return to the self that is both ancient and new. As we step into this role, may we do so with courage and grace, knowing that the world needs the wisdom only the Crone can bring.