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Therese Doherty
writer – artist – seeker
writer – artist – seeker

Therese's posts

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Stillness, Unwisdom & the Solstice
The word ‘solstice’ essentially means ‘sun stands still’. Today the daystar reaches its lowest point, before changing its path and beginning to ascend once more.   Intrinsic to this day is a stillness—yet also an unending motion.   It is something of a para...

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Furies: A Poem
Two Furies , from a 19th century book reproducing an image frrom an ancient vase (Source: Wikimedia Commons)  lighting lightless eyes with fury  that motion through emotion – anger – arrives  teller of troubling truths, revealer of wrongs  we’ve been told, ...

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On a Winter’s Afternoon Came Kookaburra
The afternoon was alive with birds, but it was Kookaburra who claimed my attention. S/he sat quietly, looking and listening intently. I tried to do the same, and the leaves glowed and the clouds shone, and I was restored.      

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Connection: Writing as Magic
I subtitled Offerings from the Wellspring, ‘A blog about creativity and connection in a living world’, for an important reason. ‘Creativity’ is self-explanatory. This space is both creative tool and outlet, where I can share my writing, my art, my attempts ...

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Winter Warmth
The violets have been blooming again, and, as I did last spring , I’ve been drinking violet tea for its cleansing benefits, not just to help rid my body of a cold, but also as a way to mark the movement from one season to the next. Autumn has flown by much ...

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The Cauldron
Source: As I trudged along the empty road, through a grey landscape bare of features, I was pulled out of dull reverie by the smell of smoke in my nostrils. Peering ahead, I saw a crossroads, where choices lay—straight ahead, left, right...

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Sometimes the Soul: A Poem
Sometimes the soul  seeks silence  seeks a chrysalic hush  for speech is coarse  jarring  to the senses  that want nothing  but peace  and a sleep  that descends  slowly  and heals  so that the holy words  of silence  can flow Silence by Dante Gabriel Rosse...

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The Pledge of Summers to Come
The red leaves take the green leaves’ place, and the landscape yields. We go to sleep with the peach in our hands and wake with the stone, but the stone is the pledge of summers to come.  ~Emily Dickinson (from a letter to the Rev. J. L. Jenkins and Mrs Jen...

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The I I Once Was
I am no longer the “I” of that episode; but it is still possible for me to remember what happened, perhaps even to tell it. I am still, however incompletely, Borges. From ‘The Zahir’ in Jorge Luis Borges, Labyrinths: Selected Stories & Other Writings , New ...

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Books & Beauty
In recent weeks, the postman has brought me some beautiful things. First came a spotted pardalote necklace , which is also a whistle, for my birthday.  Though I have never seen one, in theory these birds do make their home in the Blue Mountains, so I shall ...
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