The Bunker: Wednesday 6th August, 2025
All credit to the artist(s) 🎨
Now that I am back on island, Maui that is, I am resuming the changing face of The Bunker…at least as often as it does change.
On Being Alone, Solitude at 35,000ft+
I, we (my fellow passengers) are flying at 36,000ft on a flight from New York’s JFK to Honolulu in Hawaii. The flight time is 9 hours and 51 minutes. Add onto that the 3½ hours that we spent on the tarmac at JFK due to a technical problem. We are currently about 3¼ hours into the flight. In that time I have had something to eat, watched a little on the inflight entertainment (never something that I spend much time with), and slept.
A Susuwatari on a wall in downtown Kingston, NY.
Tinkerbell spreading love in the Azores.
I marvel in the art of well crafted words.
Long Island, New York. The weather has been threatening all day. Humidity builds and wanes like waves. Clouds form on top of clouds, their bulky shape a prediction of what is coming - and then they part briefly to reveal blue sky and sun.
But now we are on the home straight.
The light has decreased. The trees are moving more as breeze shifts to wind. Thunder rumbles in the empty canyons of the clouds above us, shaking the ground with it.
Today’s storm might be arriving earlier than forecast.
On Taking Photographs
I can take a lot of photographs, probably more when I am on the move than when I am at home, but I notice that I have a tendency to do little with them. Occasionally I’ll go back and look through them, maybe edit one or two, but otherwise they just sit there. What might I do with them? Thoughts that come to mind include, share them with family and friends.
When silence presents itself. When the veil drops and people leave and all around me is still. When all I have is the dead quite of nothing, or the quiet rhythm of the natural world.
When some or all of this happens, my heart feels at home and at rest and asks, “why not more often?”
Evening treats.
Finished reading: The Gift of Stones by Jim Crace 📚
With Thanks and in Remembrance of Joana Macy
Joana Macy has died at the age of 96. I found out this morning while browsing my RSS feeds and a post on Tricycle: The Buddhist Review. Discovering Macy’s work around 25 years ago had a profound effect on me. She tied together for me my Buddhist practice and concern for the environmental crises, taking me into the world of Deep Ecology, a body of thought that was missing from my life, but started to tie up some loose ends and deepen my reflection.
Taking in the view.
Dinner at sunset.
Tide out on the Sado River estuary. I find it so relaxing and peaceful there.
The Netflix series of Patricia Highsmith’s book The Talented Mr. Ripley
Moon over the rice fields around Alcácer do Sal. Part of the remains of the old castle in the foreground.
🦗 Sitting in a quiet house, beams creaking as the hot day gives way to the cooler temperatures of the night. The sound of crickets drifts in through the open windows.
To Infinity And Beyond (Atlantic version).
Pacific versions here and here.
🥱 I can’t get up this morning. In an attempt to leave my bed, I made some coffee…but only ended up bringing it back to bed! I’ve got to get up sometime, but right now I’m not sure when that will be.
An Evening with Benjamin Clementine
Two weeks ago I had no idea who Benjamin Clementine was, though I had unknowingly listened to a track of his used by Apple in their opening credits to The Morning Show.