A Good Day

I woke this morning with no energy, no enthusiasm for anything, no ideas. I lay there dozing until long after the time I would ever admit to staying in bed. I finally dragged myself from the warmth to take a walk. Took more energy than it should have. In fact, when I sat to put on my shoes before I left, I just sat. And sat. Not thinking anything, not doing anything. Just sitting.

Eventually, I did make it out the door. It was a lovely day — blue skies, moderate temperatures, barely moving air currents. Due to other activities, I haven’t been out to the desert in two or three weeks, so it was nice reconnecting to that wild world. (Or as wild as land so close to a housing development ever gets.)

desert roadAs I walked, I found myself wondering what it would be like to simply continue walking, heading . . . wherever. And it dawned on me why the idea of an epic walk keeps nagging at me. I feel most myself when I am walking. To be honest, I’m not sure exactly what that means except perhaps that when I am walking, I want nothing else, need nothing else. The easy movement, the ever-so-slightly changing scenery, the present moment are all enticingly hypnotic.

I am not so naïve as to believe that an epic walk would be as beguiling. There would be no shelter from the night or unpleasant weather, no home base, no ready source of water or food once I used up the small amount I carried. And yet. And yet . . . I’m sitting here smiling at the very idea.

I often express my worry about settling down — not just creating a nest for myself, but settling for less than I want. When I expressed that sentiment to a friend today, she first asked me what I wanted. I had no answer other than that I wanted to become enlightened, stronger, wiser, more courageous. She told me that I was too far on my path ever to settle even if I did settle, which is comforting. Life is a terrible thing to waste, and I want . . . I want . . . I want something I can’t even imagine.

Luckily for me, all I have to deal with is today. And today, I got out of bed. Went for a walk. Lived in the moment. And now I am writing.

As it turned out, despite the inauspicious beginning, this was a good day.

I hope your day was rewarding, too.


Pat Bertram is the author of the suspense novels Light BringerMore Deaths Than OneA Spark of Heavenly Fireand Daughter Am IBertram is also the author of Grief: The Great Yearning, “an exquisite book, wrenching to read, and at the same time full of profound truths.” Connect with Pat on Google+. Like Pat on Facebook.

6 Responses to “A Good Day”

  1. rami ungar the writer Says:

    Doesn’t surprise me a bit that you enjoy walking so much. You’re such a free spirit to begin with.

  2. Cicy Rosado Says:


  3. Cindy Says:

    Hello my kindred spirit. I too am a native Coloradoan–born in Ft. Collins in oh let’s say late 50’s. LOL. I am like an old fashioned coffee percolator having so much I want to say…yet, trying to find a way to say it and not sound like a fruit cake. First, and foremost–“Yearning”. It is our second common denominator. It took me six years to recognize that is what was happening after the loss of our 22 year old son, June 11, 2006. For six years I remained paralyzed in grief — now severe chronic illnesses seeping in on me–yet, death refused me. In January 2012, the battle for life and death at a stalemate – I penned “When Momma’s Cry, The Darkside of Yearning; Grief After the Loss of a Child” – Six months later, what you are looking for, what you are seeking, came to my home. Truth. The past two and a half years, well, the roller coaster ride and challenge to break off what I thought I knew — the Truths that were my very fiber—I had to be willing to lay them aside. So the Teacher could speak. The I penned a very short update, “Awaken to Our Enchanted Universe” to explain what had happened since I penned the poison that was pooling in my soul. Just recently, I released, “Tomorrow Is Waiting” because I didn’t want Mom’s to think they would forever remain in the toxicity of yearning. Oh, I still yearn—but now that I know what it is…I am a survivor, I am wiser, I am stronger, I am more compassionate, more understanding, more patient, more cautious. I found you because of the word ‘yearning’ on amazon. I am currently working on “The Destroyer Desires Your Faith, Not Your Soul” – BUT….I am contemplating another work on Surviving Grief 101 — so I was checking to see what was already available on that platform. And there you were. One who was willing to write AND share the TRUTH that no, it’s not a cookie cutter mold, no, everyone doesn’t follow the formula laid out by many of the grief experts (most of which may or may not have even suffered significant grief). But was is grief…but a UNIQUE experience to each and every one of us to teach us – grow us – challenge us – enlighten us – awaken us. There is no formula for that. I’m headed over to facebook to see if I can follow you – as you shared your lack of energy for anything today….I want to share that the trauma of grief, 3 tragedies compiled – an early loss of my father, a murdered sister, and our son … I was diagnosed with Centralized Sensitization Disorder, Flight or Fight Syndrome, Severe Fibromyalgia, Lupus, Graves Disease, Meniere’s Disease. Yet, this year I am going to continue to share my TRUTH. Truth that, “this too shall pass”.

    • Pat Bertram Says:

      Oh, my. You certainly have had a lot of grief in your life! And now so many physical ailments It’s good to finally come to the realization that grief takes us where we need to go. I’m glad you’re writing your truth and finding your own way. It helps to let people know they can survive that great yearning.

      I’ve heard that the only thing worse than losing a soul mate is losing child, and murder can never be understood, even if they found the perpetrator. I’m sorry, too, about the early loss of your father. I’ve been taking care of my father, who died recently. So now I’m about to leave the house where I’ve been staying to search for . . . something. A new life, perhaps.

      Wishing you peace and health.

Please leave a comment. I'd love to hear what you have to say.

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.

%d bloggers like this: