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Ann M Murphy

Writings for the Earth Guardians.

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Author: Ann Murphy

I was born in Australia, grew up in Ireland, Spain and England. I am Irish by nationality. I am married to Omar, who is from the West Bank in Luxor, and have five children, and two grand-daughters. I am the originator of a healing system called The Gaia Method which is based on ancient Mother Goddess Mysteries and is a method of healing the Soul of the Earth and its people through nature. When I am not working with other people, I love doing research. I trained as an archaeologist for three years in the University of Winchester and also did many years training as a psychodynamic counsellor specialising in Rape, abuse and Domestic violence. I am a 'Master' of quite a few Reiki modalities and also a Magnified Healing teacher. I have done too many spiritual/healing workshops and trainings to mention! I have travelled to many places to do environmental healing and in the process rediscovered ancient knowledge. An ongoing process. I am currently writing, travelling, spinning, knitting and creating, and living in Gurna on the West Bank in Luxor, and in Winchester with my daughters and granddaughters. Bridging the two countries energetically.

The Vain Crow.

September 14, 2016February 10, 2023 Ann MurphyLeave a comment

Once upon a time, there was a young crow, who spent most of his days gazing at his reflection in the water from a tree branch that grew by the side of a river. The river was so wide, the bird could not see where it began, or where it ended. All he could see… Continue reading The Vain Crow. →

Posted in Stories for Children.Tagged fish, river, rook, Stories, tree

Scene from an Aran Window.

May 13, 2015May 13, 2015 Ann MurphyLeave a comment

By Ann Murphy This is a short story I wrote for a Writer's cafe competition. I wrote a lot of fiction for a while but have not got the uninterrupted time to do it now. I wonder when I ever will... She gazed out of the window, the stone, wall-lined, fields creating a checker-board on… Continue reading Scene from an Aran Window. →

Posted in Short StoriesTagged Inis Meain, island landscape

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