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The Hooded Man stands at the Midwinter Solstice on 21 December. Associated with Earth and the dark sun, this is the time of solitude and contemplation. It is the gateway of the dead and rebirth, the womb of the Earth.
A lone hooded figure stands before an ancient oak. It is midwinter. Thick snow covers the ground and the branches of the tree. The Hooded Man is dressed in an evergreen holly and berry cloak. He holds a stout staff in one hand and a lantern to light the pathway in the other. In the great tree is a battered and moss-covered wooden doorway. Through the swollen timbers a warm light spills into the evening gloom. The inside of the great tree appears inviting, a haven from the chilling air. Above the doorway is a wheel-like wreath of holly and evergreen foliage. On a cold stone rising from the frozen earth a wren watches and waits.
After the trials and tribulations of dealing with the primal forces that confront you on the Wheel of the Year, a space is needed for stillness and contemplation. For the spiritual warrior or seeker looking for esoteric knowledge, the complex matrix of symbolism and insight may confuse the intellect and shake the reality. The Hooded Man (also known as the Hermit, or sometimes as Robin-i-the-Hood, the deeper archetype of the Outlaw of Sherwood Forest) offers a steadfast light in the midwinter world and a steady staff on which to lean and gather your mental resources. His shining lamp illuminates the darkest recesses of fear and incomprehension and guides the way to the doorway that leads into the heart of the great tree. He knows that knowledge is light and is sometimes only earned with sacrifice and stoicism. Such things offer admittance to the great mystery of the woodland and show the seekers how they may find the wisdom to advance through the wilder reaches of the forest. The great tree itself is one of the most powerful symbols of the forest. Within its ancient heart lie locked countless secrets, and the profoundest treasures of wisdom.
The Hooded Man survives even in the cold. empty, winter landscape because of his wisdom and will. He is at one with the harshness of the climate because he draws upon the strength of the evergreen holly that even the winter cannot turn to dust and has stored spiritual nourishment to sustain him. He has absorbed the lessons and knowledge that his journey has afforded him; and to those who have followed his path, and now are tired and in need of solace, he waits to pass on his wisdom, comfort, and guidance.
On a small rock nearby is the wren, the sacred bird of kings, revered as an oracle and a keeper of secret wisdom. The wren is a n ancient totem bird that flew highest of all creatures by riding on the back of the great eagle, thus earning itself the title of King of All Birds. It serves as a reminder that the smallest of the Earth’s creatures is capable of soaring to the greatest heights and seeing beyond the furthest horizon.
This time of rebirth is both inward and mystical, and yet outward and universal, beyond the narrow boundaries of human civilisation and moral codes.
The time of the Hooded Man is here. Whether he appears in the guise of an inner guide and mentor or simply as a state of mind, you will understand that now is a time to withdraw and rest. After a long journey through the Wildwood, many emotions and experiences need to be absorbed. This is the beginning of understanding—not just of yourself, but of the universe. The hermit-like Hooded Man appears differently for everyone. Whether through meditation or solitude in the mountains, through prayer or holidaying in a secluded place, his light will illuminate the way to the heart of the endless cycle of being.
The path of solitude • The final truth • The still, small voice of calm • Meditation and communion with the self • The light of knowledge • Inner depth
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December 30, 2024 7:00 AM (EST)
Dear Allison & the Onyx Savant,
Guten morgen, my lovelies! It has been more than a minute. We are now through what I consider to be the most difficult part of the holiday season, Christmas and its associated pre- and post-holidays. New Year’s is still ahead, but most people don’t have a lot of responsibility with regard to New Year’s unless they plan to cook greens or peas. New Year’s is the epitome of no responsibility in a lot of ways, with drinking to excess and kissing strangers high on the list of its traditions. All that said, I hope you are feeling fairly replete with food, merriment, and fellowship. How are Masters Chingo and Forest? I hope they are replete as well. Please give them boops on their snoots from me.
I have been trying to tell you about what happened the day that Ms. B went to the urgent vet, but I don’t know if I really can. I am too angry about it all and depressed and…tired. Dreadfully tired. Again. And I have a lot to do. Correction: I have a lot that I want to do. I’m trying to reframe it a bit to give myself more motivation. To take ownership of my projects so that I feel like it is less “top down.” How do I want things to be? Now there’s a hell of a question. Sigh. Not like that, I can tell you that much. Haha. Just now Mr. H stepped out of the bedroom, hollering my name. Nothing else. Just my name. Not even in a kind way. I would not use it as an example normally, being first thing in the morning, but this manner doesn’t change much throughout the day. It gets masked with pleasantness sometimes, but the entitlement and self-granted authority are always there. When he came out just now, it was to tell me to put Mr. B away because Ms. B is ready to get up. But he just hollers my name twice and goes back to sleep. I am so tired of it. The lack of help. Just waiting for me to do whatever it is. Yesterday he offered to take the bedding to the laundromat, which was helpful. I was doing the other laundry—clothes, towels, etc.—here at home. Well, he asked me to get him some “to-go” laundry items together. I had already gone around and collected the things he needed to take. I asked him if he could do it, since I was busy at the moment with something else. Like, he’s asking me to set up his task so he barely has to think, I guess. Well, he did it, and then I went to do more laundry and saw he had just taken what I have here at the house. Fortunately, he hadn’t left. He said, “I guess I can pour it in a bottle or something…” and he kind of trailed off like he thought I was going to find him a bottle. I swear to all that’s holy…I did not find him a bottle. He found one himself, the brilliant professor.
Anyway, as you can see, I am extremely angry and resentful. I don’t know what I am going to do about any of it, though. Options keep spinning in my head, and it is the worst. Because it is all more exhausting and more work, hoping that the quiet in the end will make up for it all, but will it? I don’t know. I don’t know what I want, and that is the rub. I keep getting The Seer, over and over, and I can see everything but me. I think The Hooded Man was a good reminder. It is a good time to be quiet. To let all of whatever this ball turns out to be—coalesce. Spring will come, as will the rising sap in myself that always excites me, and I need to be ready to use that energy in a productive direction. I have been thinking of all the business I need to conduct to make decisions, the appointments I will need to make and attend. I went to the pub the day before yesterday, and I happened to notice that there is a family attorney in the office next to it. Hmm. I think it would not hurt to get a consultation. I need more information about my options. Sometimes, from what I can tell, attorneys don’t just get you divorced or out of jail or whatever. Sometimes they can be good at helping you avoid divorce, for instance, or prevent you from filing a claim you will likely lose. I hate to sound so terribly pragmatic, but if I leave all this to go live in a cardboard box that will weigh differently than if I can leave with some financial dignity. I have put a lot of my own money and time and effort into this place. It feels very selfish to say so, but I would like some return on my investment. I am a disabled, middle-aged woman. Were I in my mid-20s, I wouldn’t care a whit. But I can’t bounce around like I used to. Much to my chagrin. And the chagrin makes it worse. So I have to care more. Sigh. I have things I want to do, and I don’t want to be stuck here forever. And I think he might be. I know he would go, but will he, is the question.
Anyway. All of that is swirling around and has been making my days quite grey indeed. My Christmas was not very holly or jolly, but that’s okay because my Thanksgiving was. I am trying not to get ahead of myself, but it’s difficult. And the rest of the world is … I don’t even know. I have enjoyed watching the GOP eat itself this week, but it will not make anything better, I don’t think. It makes me feel a little bit better about their ability to pass any sort of reforms. They don’t even know what they want, it doesn’t sound like. Damn it. Am I the GOP??? The weather has been grey and rainy as all hell. It will finally be sunny today, but this morning the field behind my house is so misty, I am half-expecting to see some Revolutionary War battle being filmed upon it. Last of the Mohicans or some shit. The weather is trying to depress the ever-lovin’ hell out of me, I swear, in addition to all this other. And I have been feeling hungover…dehydrated, stomach not quite right, muscle cramps…and I haven’t gotten the pleasure of being tipsy. I’ve had a bit of this and that, but not back to back. Anyway. I feel like I made a bunch of bad decisions last night, but I don’t think that’s possible, having minded my p’s and q’s binging Mad Men.
Mr. H is up and finally in the shower, so I’ll close this for now. I’ve not been writing because it was all too much, and I know that’s when I should, but the words crowd my mouth like my brain is a rickety theater up in flames. There is also shame. Always shame too. I have invited Mara to tea so many times, he has his own mug at my place. I don’t know. I hate this adult shit. But I hated child shit too. >:-< I’m sorry. I will try to rearrange my features better next time to be more pleasant. I’m not even sure what they are doing right now. I think my nose is trying to crawl over the top of my left eyebrow. It’s okay. We’ll all be fine.
I hope you have a spectacular New Year and give the pups smooches from me when the ball drops. I will try to talk again tomorrow when I haven’t been bottling things up so long that they’ve become quite muddled. I do heart you both and wish I could give you a hearty hug to prove what my words cannot.
Auld lang syne and all that—-
Case Study No. 69