A Special Winter Dream
Hannah Green
"Hare Under The Moon" by Deva Evans
Dear friends,
As winter deepens and we move toward the darkest days of the year, I find myself dreaming more and remembering my dreams. Many of these dreams feel more lucid and magical than usual.
In my garden and in surrounding fields near my home live many lovely creatures - bunnies, badgers, weasels, all kinds of birds and wild, fleet-footed, moon-touched hares. A few weeks ago, I had a dream. A hare appeared, larger than human, decidedly of the underworld - not dark in a fearful way, but deep, chthonic, ancient. To hear what this being wanted to tell me, I had to tune myself like a tuning fork, adjusting my frequency to meet theirs. When I finally attuned, the message came with surprising gentleness from the hare's mouth, in a woman's voice: "We choose you. We want you for this quest." The voice was beautiful and otherworldly and was filled with a kind of love that stayed with me long after waking.
In Celtic tradition, hares are threshold creatures. They don't burrow underground like rabbits but rest in shallow forms on the open earth, neither belonging fully to the wild below nor the cultivated above. They're associated with the moon, with shapeshifting, with messages between worlds. Medieval churches across Cornwall and Devon bear the mysterious "three hares" motif - three hares running in an eternal circle, sharing three ears between them, each appearing whole yet part of an impossible, sacred geometry.
"Three Hares" motif by Vikki Yeates
The hare doesn't hibernate. It endures winter's darkness, remaining visible and vital when so much else has gone to ground. There's something profound in that - a reminder that the dark season isn't about disappearing but about a different kind of presence, a quieter, slower quality of aliveness.
As we approach Christmas and the winter solstice, these ancient markers of light returning in the longest dark, I'm struck by how the old Celtic wisdom, Christian mystery and Jungian perspective aren't so different at their heart. Both honor the profound truth that new life comes through descent, that we must go down into the dark before we can truly encounter what wants to be born. The Celtic year's dark half, the waiting of Advent, the solstice's promise - all speak to this necessary passage through winter's underworld.
Jung understood this. He wrote about the Self often appearing in numinous, larger-than-human forms, sometimes as animals that carry messages the ego can't yet speak in its own voice. The hare in my dream wasn't asking me to understand intellectually but to tune myself, to become receptive to a frequency beyond my usual range. This feels like the invitation of the season itself - not to force light or manufacture cheer, but to attune ourselves to what's already present in the dark, to what's choosing us even as we think we're choosing our own path forward.
The quest the hare spoke of - I think it's the same one many of us can relate to. The quest to listen more deeply. To allow ourselves to be transformed by what we hear. To trust the love that comes from unexpected places, in unexpected forms. To persist like the winter hare, present and alive even when the landscape seems barren.
This year has been one of profound transition for me - living between two countries, grounding my practice in new soil, learning what it means to be shaped by the land and community that holds me. You have been part of that shaping. By meeting me here, in the sacred space that therapy creates, you've taught me about courage, about showing up for the hard work of becoming whole, about the tenderness possible when we stop performing and start being real with each other.
Your willingness to trust me with your depths, your shadows, your longings - it changes me. Every session, every sharing, every moment you've chosen to stay present with what's difficult, vulnerable or mysterious rather than flee - these have been gifts. You've walked this path with me as much as I've walked it with you, and I'm grateful in ways that are hard to put into words.
As we move into the new year, I'm holding space for what wants to emerge - in my work, in our lives, in the collective journey we're all on. If you're feeling called to deepen your therapeutic work, to begin again, or to explore what might be asking for attention in your inner life, I'd be honored to share that space with you. I have some availability opening in January, both for ongoing work and for new clients ready to begin. I would love to see you in the Mission January 17th for the workshop and gathering I am hosting, there is a link below to learn more and register.
However this season finds you - in celebration or in quiet, in company or in solitude, in joy or in necessary grief - may you feel held. May you notice what's choosing you. May you find yourself able to tune, even just for a moment, to the frequency of your own deepest knowing.
With love and gratitude,
Hannah Green MFT