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One On One Meditation with Gregory McBean

Phone: +61 400 511 525



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16.01.2022 An additional benefit of early morning meditations during a time out in Tasmania was seeing sunrises like this.



16.01.2022 I read with interest an article in The Sunday Telegraph by Adam MacDougall on Robbie Maddison. With his staggering motorcycle jumps, he's a contemporary Evel Knievel and then some. Perhaps unexpectedly, Maddison cites meditation as being one of the factors he utilises in his preparation. "Meditation is the most powerful thing we can do for our health," he says. While meditation won't help make us all the accomplished daredevils motorcycle ace Maddison is, it can certainly help in the process of being truly focussed.

15.01.2022 On occasion my photographic image making becomes almost like a meditation with all my presence attuned to the moment. This work is an example; it was made in the Blue Mountains. It was at the end of the street where I was staying. I wanted a tangible memory of the time, so I made this photo. Even after all the years I have been taking photographs I am still fascinated how a black & white image elicits a different response than the same work in colour.

13.01.2022 Clouds: ephemeral, of the moment and then gone.



12.01.2022 I have just watched Still Alice on DVD. I found the final scene particularly poignant where the daughter was reading the following passage to her mother who’s cognition, because of Alzheimer's, has all but slipped away. The words are from American Playwright Tony Kushner’s Angels in America. I admit to knowing nothing about Kushner or his play until hearing this passage. It simply struck me as a sublime piece of writing. Night flight to San Francisco; chase the moon across A...merica. God, it’s been years since I was on a plane. When we hit 35,000 feet we’ll have reached the tropopause, the great belt of calm air, as close as I’ll ever get to the ozone. I dreamed we were there. The plane leapt the tropopause, the safe air, and attained the outer rim, the ozone, which was ragged and torn, patches of it threadbare as old cheesecloth, and that was frightening. But I saw something that only I could see because of my astonishing ability to see such things: Souls were rising, from the earth far below, souls of the dead, of people who had perished, from famine, from war, from the plague, and they floated up, like skydivers in reverse, limbs all akimbo, wheeling and spinning. And the souls of these departed joined hands, clasped ankles, and formed a web, a great net of souls, and the souls were three-atom oxygen molecules of the stuff of ozone, and the outer rim absorbed them and was repaired. Nothing’s lost forever. In this world, there’s a kind of painful progress. Longing for what we’ve left behind, and dreaming ahead. At least I think that’s so. Tony Kushner, Angels in America, Part Two: Perestroika See more

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