Family, Friends, and a Reason to Celebrate

March 9, 2026 — Pat Bertram

I had the weird experience yesterday of living in two different time zones depending on what room I was in. In one room, it was afternoon, and in the other, before noon. It didn’t really matter, apparently, since it took me a while to realize that there were two different times in my house. I mean, I knew it was 12:30 in one room but immediately forgot what the time was. Fifteen minutes later, I went into the kitchen and there the time was 11:45. Figuring I’d misread the time in the other room, I went back and checked my phone again. Confused the heck out of me why I’d lost an hour in one room but not the other.

Then, of course, light dawned. Sheesh. Daylight saving time. Unlike my phone and computer, the stove and microwave don’t change the time automatically.

Neither does my body.

I never think the time change will affect me since I get up with the sun, but it does, mostly because bedtime comes an hour earlier (which really means an hour or two later since I’m not tired enough to fall asleep, so I toss and turn longer than if I had simply gone to bed an hour later).

I hope this moment of confusion isn’t indicative of what my old age will be like — a lot of confusion with (hopefully) a quick dawning of understanding.

Of course, if I’d looked at the calendar or continued my perusal of online articles, I would have been reminded, but I’ve been narrowing my focus to what is in my immediate surroundings.

And apparently, yesterday, what was in my immediate surrounding was two different time zones — MST and MDT.

I have been enjoying my narrowed focus. (Even though it’s an online activity, blogging is still a narrowed focus because what I see is the words in my mind being written in black and white.) It helps that the weather is nice so I can go outside to expand my horizons, but I’ve also been bringing my horizons inside. At least, I did on Saturday, which was the seventh anniversary of my buying this house.

The house anniversary is one of the few dates in my life I like to celebrate, and so does my next-door neighbor. (Apparently, I was an answer to her prayer for a good neighbor. Makes me feel special since I’ve never — to my knowledge — been the answer to anyone’s prayers.) To honor the occasion, she gave me these gorgeous roses!

She and a few other friends came to help me celebrate. It was nice that they couldn’t all come at once, so I was able to visit one on one or one on two which is best for me. I find more company than that causes me too much confusion, though unlike the time difference mentioned above, this isn’t age-related confusion (or whatever the problem with the time was) but simply the way I’ve always been.

My sister had asked what I wanted for a gift. Since I don’t need anything, I told her I’d like gifts for my friends. So she made me the most wonderful party favor kit, which was great on so many levels.

I had the fun of receiving the box of goodies, the fun of assembling the kit, and the fun of handing them out.

So, who needs a broader focus in life when one has family, friends, a reason to celebrate, and lovely hostess gifts to hand out!

I was proud of myself for cleaning up immediately afterward, so yesterday morning I woke to a clean house rather than a mess. Not that we left much of a mess, but I had to clear the table and do the dishes as well as finish the leftovers since I don’t like having cake and ice cream on hand. Though to be honest, I never have them on hand because if I do, they are too soon gobbled up, and neither of those treats treat me well.

So that catches us up on my news. I’ve been spending my blog time on topics other than me (though in a way, everything I write is about me or at least what I think), but there’s truly been nothing much going on in my life to write about.

Still, it’s been nice having this narrow focus even if it doesn’t give me a lot of fodder for blogging.

***

Pat Bertram is the author of Grief: The Inside Story – A Guide to Surviving the Loss of a Loved One.

Posted in being me, blogging, dealing with old age, home, house, life. Tags: , , , , , , . 7 Comments »

Nothing to Do With Me

March 5, 2026 — Pat Bertram

Every once in a great while, I will see a spike in my blog statistics where suddenly, for no apparent reason, the views on a particular day jump by 1000% or even more. During the first years of blogging, I could see where views came from, what was googled, or what link was clicked to get here, but apparently, privacy laws have now eliminated much of the practice. Sometimes I can see what posts were read, but when there is a big jump, all I see is that the views were for the homepage of my blog, not any specific article.

So I’m left wondering what it was I said that struck such a chord. I know it’s not something I wrote on that day, because this even happened a few times when this blog was all but dormant. Since no one left a comment on any post (which few people do any more), I’m left in the dark.

I’d think this was an algorithmic anomaly or maybe bots trolling the site since sometimes the jump signifies a single view, but sometimes the statistics show that people stayed to check out another post or two. Why? I have no idea. In the past when this happened, I’d congratulate myself on having said something that resonated with people, but now I wonder if such a jump in views has anything to do with me at all.

For a non-blog example: it used to be that when people were kind to me, I’d be pleased with myself, thinking that their kindness was because of something I did, my own kindness, perhaps, then it dawned on me that they were kind to me simply because they themselves were kind. It had nothing to do with me.

Is it possible the jump in views has nothing to do with me or anything I wrote? It certainly has nothing to do with any promotion I’m doing because I gave up promoting this blog years ago when Facebook banned it for being spam. Sometimes I like to think this blog could be considered S.P.A.M. — Special, Perspicacious, Astute, Meaningful — at least to some people, but that’s just me being self-indulgent. But, come to think of it, writing this blog itself is a form of self-indulgence. And so perhaps is wondering what brings people here.

I don’t suppose it matters why people come, at least it shouldn’t matter to me, though I can hope it matters to those who stop by. In any case, I can only write what I feel, throw my words out to the winds of the internet, and what happens after that has nothing to do with me.

It’s like that saying: “What others think of you is none of your business.” Perhaps nothing that happens here after I post is any of my business. Though that doesn’t mean I can’t be curious about what brings people here.

***

Pat Bertram is the author of Grief: The Inside Story – A Guide to Surviving the Loss of a Loved One.

Posted in being me, blogging, internet, writing. Tags: , , , , , . 3 Comments »

The Algorithms Made Me Do It

March 4, 2026 — Pat Bertram

Algorithms are an interesting concept. Because I followed the monks’ walk, my news feed is full of Buddhist teachings as well as a daily meditation on peace from the walkers. Also, for some reason, I see a lot of biblical references especially referring to Armageddon.

Because I posted a blog about conspiracy theories, my feed is full of conspiracy theories, (Note to R.U. — including information about lizard people). Also, there’s much talk of what people have found in the Epstein files now that they are searchable for the public, confirming events that once were only surmised by the theorists.

Because I like to see all sides of what is called “truth,” I get a lot of leftist ideology. And because I sometimes check out news from black conservative commentators, I get a lot of information about what this administration is doing to counteract what the left is doing.

This makes for a wild ride, for sure. And it makes for wild thoughts, especially when seen through the lens of The Wheel of Time, which is, at its most basic, a tale of a cosmic battle between the forces of good (and not so good) and the forces of evil (and not totally evil).

What if the conspiracists and the biblical scholars are right and we are currently going through a cosmic battle that is being played on various stages?

The political stage, of course, which seems pretty obvious since the two sides are diametrically opposed.

The religious stage and the battle between cosmic forces for good and evil as described in The Lord of the Rings, The Wheel of Time, and countless other novels. An ongoing battle between Christians and those who are trying to decimate Christians, such as what is going on in Nigeria.

A technological stage with perhaps a battle between humans and artificial intelligence (as has been predicted in hundreds of science fiction stories for the past century). And what is called a paradigm shift from our present awareness to a greater one (or at least a different one) if we are to sustain our species.

If the algorithms are telling me anything, it’s that there is a present good to counter the “evil,” though I wouldn’t call it evil — it seems more like unrest, an acceptance of criminal behavior as the norm, and a growing feeling that laws don’t have to be followed if you feel morally superior to those laws. As the left continues to push their socialistic-communist agenda, others are fighting back, stressing individualism over collectivism. As the unrest grows, so does the personal need to find peace within and hence the vast influence of the Walk for Peace. And the paradigm shift continues to shift, at least on a political level, such as the abandonment of punitive climate controls to one that accepts the necessity of power-hungry AI data centers.

Even if there is some sort of cosmic battle going on, and even if I sometimes worry that the world is changing to a reality I might not be able to recognize, would we even notice, or for the most part, will our lives go on, with us noticing only small changes in how we interact with the world and each other?

Probably what will happen, no matter what the algorithms tell me, is the same thing that is happening in The Wheel of Time now that I have eliminated the ridiculous substitute-author ending from my studies — just the same scenarios played out over and over again.

Does any of this make sense? I have no idea if it even makes sense to me — it’s just a wild idea I am playing with. And who knows, maybe the algorithms made me do it.

***

Pat Bertram is the author of Grief: The Inside Story – A Guide to Surviving the Loss of a Loved One.

Posted in being me, culture, history/myth, internet, life. Tags: , , , , , . 7 Comments »

Buying Colorado

March 3, 2026 — Pat Bertram

After Jeff died, I moved to California to help take care of my father. He didn’t actually need a lot of help, but he did need someone there to watch over him, so I was able to find a life for myself. During the first three years, I mostly walked. And walked. And walked. Then I discovered dancing, and that became a saving grace for me. (Well, maybe not “grace” since it didn’t make me all that graceful, but I still managed to hold my own, even during performances.)

After my father died, I became nomadic — housesitting, traveling, staying in motels. But always, I ended up back in that desert town because I didn’t know where else to go. Besides, I had friends there, and dancing.

Then came the opportunity to buy a house in a small town in Colorado. I was sad to leave my dance classes and my friends, but I was delighted to leave California. Although the high desert was livable, the politics of the state weren’t. Even if I could have afforded to live there, I would have left out of self-preservation.

I was glad to settle back into Colorado. That is, I was glad until I realized that the Colorado I left wasn’t the same one I returned to. The state had always been moderate, and yet somehow the state had become uber-liberal, as bad if not worse than California, with punitive policies and little representation of the rural areas. I live far from Denver, but that sanctuary city with its insane laws neutralizes the outlying areas even further. Not only do they try to take our water (which makes the building of the conduit from Pueblo out to the Kansas border a boondoggle because there won’t be any water for them to share with us) but they are also taking away the ability for counties to create their own zoning laws. Instead, small towns must adhere to the same unaffordable “affordability” zoning laws that are being put into place in the big cities. A state that once had a tax surplus is now in a sinking hole of debt because of liberal ideologies and the fraudulent misuse of tax dollars. Then there is the bought-and-paid-for governor who’s making his own deals with WHO and Zelensky and anyone else that can further his agenda of separating Colorado from the governance of federal agencies. (Though he still wants federal funds.) All this creates at times an uncomfortable dichotomy between the individualistic rural areas and the collectivistic urban areas.

So how did Colorado come to this when I wasn’t looking? Tons of money from east coast liberals, and maybe even west coast, came flooding in. Most of the money for democratic candidates comes from outside the state, while most of the money for conservative candidates comes from inside the state. Which says to me that the state would have preferred to remain conservative, or at least somewhere in the middle where it had always been. (Today, slightly less than a quarter of registered voters are democrat, another scant quarter is Republican, and slightly more than half are registered as independent or unaffiliated.)  Many districts no longer even put forth a republican candidate for any office. They simply can’t match the funds the democrats have at their disposal.

Why the push to buy Colorado? I have no idea, though I guess it was easy in part because so many people from California had moved here. I never understood that, frankly. You move from a cesspool of high taxes and an overreaching government, and you immediately start creating a similar cesspool, but that’s what they did.

Although the politics of Colorado has changed drastically, the feel of the state hasn’t. The air feels like home. The weather, though not always to my liking, is what I was used to growing up.

And I’ve made good friends here, making this small town even homier.

Even though I grew up in Denver, it turns out I’m a small-town girl at heart, though I do wish — silly me — that politically things were different. Still, the machinations of politicians and their backers, and those who espouse extremist policies have always horrified me so I don’t imagine things will be that different. I hope not. And anyway, I’ve managed to survive seven years here, so with any luck, I’ll continue to do okay.

***

Pat Bertram is the author of Grief: The Inside Story – A Guide to Surviving the Loss of a Loved One.

Posted in being me, history/myth, home, life. Tags: , , , , . 28 Comments »

Life, Fate, and Conundrums

February 25, 2026 — Pat Bertram

On Chinese New Year, a friend of Chinese descent who was born and raised in Malaysia, and I, a German/Polish hybrid, who was born in raised in Colorado, had lunch at a Chinese restaurant owned by a man originally from Vietnam, who chatted with us while we waited for our food. Mind boggling, right? I can’t even imagine how many tens of thousands of decisions we each made, how many unexpected changes in our lives, and how much time had to pass for all of us to end up in that exact place at that exact moment.

It almost makes me believe in fate, but perhaps that’s what fate is: everything that has to occur so that a certain event can happen. In some cases, those events and decisions are simply living and going where the day takes you. Other times, it’s a significant event, such as the death of a loved one. In my case, Jeff’s death untethered me so that I ended up in California taking care of my father. My father’s death broke whatever strings I had left, which sent me all over the country in an effort to run away from my life as well as run towards it. It’s mere happenstance — an unasked-for email from a real estate site — that I ended up here.

I’ve been thinking about this definition of fate as it applies to the Walk for Peace. On October 26, 2025, the monks set out from Fort Worth with barely a wave good-bye. Almost no one noticed them as they walked, though they did get some heckling and a few people who stopped to talk. Truckers and Texas residents shared sightings on Tik Tok, which got them some online followers, but mostly, they walked alone along empty roads.

Then, on November 19, a pick-up struck the escort vehicle so hard that it pushed the escort vehicle into the walking monks. Several were injured. One seriously. (He lost a leg but was doing well enough to attend the ending ceremonies in Washington.) After seeing that their fellow monk was taken care of, they continued their walk with the Harris County sheriff’s department riding alongside to keep them safe. The sheriff notified the sheriff’s department in the next county, and those law enforcement officers continued the protection, and so it went, all across the country.

That accident and the law enforcement notifications catapulted the walk into the public’s eye. No longer just a few bystanders on the open road — suddenly there were miles and miles of people lining their pathway. Thousands of people — hundreds of thousands — endured the cold and wind and rain and snow to wait to see the monks walk by. Millions followed the monks online. Lives were changed. People vowed to find peace within. And the effects of that walk are still rippling.

So, what would have happened without that accident? Was it a necessary part of their journey? Was it fate that it happened? Did the monk who lost his leg think it was a fair payment for the good the walk did? Was it a further example of their belief in breathing, in peace, in accepting the physical aspect of suffering while letting go of the resulting mental suffering? (One of the lessons they taught was that 10% of suffering was physical, the other 90% mental.)

Conundrums like this keep me wondering about life, about all the dots that need to be connected for anything to happen. Depending on what source you check out, there is between a one in seventy trillion chance and a one in four hundred trillion chance of any one of us being born.

So many changes and connections. Events and decisions. And time, lots of time. And all to get us here, to this very moment.

A moment that was eons in the making, a moment that will never be repeated.

During this rare and precious moment, may you be well, happy, and at peace.

***

Pat Bertram is the author of Grief: The Inside Story – A Guide to Surviving the Loss of a Loved One.

Posted in Adventure, being me, internet, life, relationships. Tags: , , , , , . 7 Comments »

Finding a Purpose

February 24, 2026 — Pat Bertram
Daily writing prompt
What is the biggest challenge you will face in the next six months?
View all responses

Ever since I watched monks Walk for Peace with such purpose and dedication, I’ve been thinking I need to find a purpose rather than just living simply from day to day. (This can be construed as simply living from day to day or living simply, and both would be correct.) And that’s what I came here to say, that the biggest challenge I will face in the next six months is finding a purpose.

But do I need a purpose? Does anyone? A sense of purpose might make someone feel good, feel as if their life was worth living, maybe even make them feel important, but the purpose itself might not be a good thing. For example, a pattern killer (the current appellation for a serial killer) generally has a strong sense of purpose, which is good for the killer, but not the victims.

(I was going to use more specific examples, such as the protestors who felt their purpose was to interfere in the arrest of a child rapist and murderer, and so the perpetrator got away. I am sure the protestors felt so proud of themselves for fulfilling their purpose that they would never see how their actions led directly to more heinous crimes committed by that perpetrator. But I decided not to use such examples because I can never be sure if people would read my words and their intent as I meant them, or if they would read their own emotions into the example. Hence, my example of the pattern killer because I’m sure most of us can understand that in such as case, a sense of purpose and where it leads is not a good thing.)

Oddly, while thinking about finding a purpose, I came across something called “purpose angst,” which is “the stress, frustration, and worry stemming from the intense pressure to find, define, and live a meaningful life.” That, too, made me wonder how important it is to find a purpose. If the search for a meaningful life is such a dire burden, maybe it’s the search that’s the problem. Maybe we’re not supposed to search for meaning in our lives. Maybe our lives themselves are the meaning.

In reading people’s reactions to the Walk for Peace, I saw an interesting comment. The commenter said that people who talked about the walk and how it affected them mentioned things like the monks’ dedication, their perseverance, their kindness. But he said the real reason the walk touched people was the simplicity. Everything about modern life is noise and chaos, but then came the monks. They simply walked in single file in silence. No noise, no chaos, no bunching up. Just that single orderly line. Simple. Touching.

Although their message was peace, that the way to peace is to find it is within ourselves, maybe the true message was simplicity.

In which case, there is no need for me to find a purpose. I am living that purpose: a simple life lived simply.

So, since finding a purpose is a challenge I won’t be facing in the next six months, what challenge will I face? I can’t think of any offhand, but life has a way of surprising us. I’ll let you know six months from now what, if any, challenge I faced.

***

Pat Bertram is the author of Grief: The Inside Story – A Guide to Surviving the Loss of a Loved One.

Posted in being me, life. Tags: , , , , , , , . 10 Comments »

A Simple Life

February 23, 2026 — Pat Bertram

I still check on what the monks are doing now that they have finished their Walk for Peace, and today I found out the head of the walk is planning to write a book about the walk based on the extensive journal he kept during that time.

That made me laugh, but not for the reason you think. Here is this guy who got up before dawn every morning, meditated for an hour, walked 25 to 30 miles (half the time barefoot) greeting and blessing people along the way, gave talks and hosted meditations in the evening.

And kept a detailed journal.

Me? I got up this morning. Period. Yep, laughing at the comparison.

I am understating just a bit because obviously I am sitting here at my computer writing this, but when I finish? Nothing but lounging around and reading. Pretty pathetic.

But I’m okay with that. I might not be inspiring anyone, but I’m not hurting anyone, either. I’m just enjoying my peaceful day, being glad I have this time, being grateful for the blessings of my life. There is grace in that, I think. I hope there is, anyway.

The monk, however, is still going about doing good. He’s planning his next mission for late April, traveling to Sri Lanka for a sapling from the sacred Bodhi tree to bring back for an exhibition in Fort Worth. Me? I might travel with a friend to the next town to get groceries.

I don’t know why this amuses me. I’ve learned long ago not to compare myself to others, but still, I can’t help but see the difference in lifestyles. Well, beyond the obvious one of his being a monk and me . . . not.

What else is funny to me (funny odd, not funny ha-ha) is that whatever I once did or once was has been lost somewhere in the past. It’s as if this is the only life I’ve ever had.

And a way, it is. I’ve always lived simply, partly from a belief in walking softly through life and a lack of funds to do otherwise. Long before recycling became a catchword, I recycled, not in a recycling bin but in reality — using things up, wearing them out, making do, and doing without. (I have no idea where those depression era ideals came from, but they have shaped my life.)

But maybe that is the way it’s supposed to be — living in my own moment without comparison to anyone, not a monk or even a younger me, and seeing the worth even in that.

***

Pat Bertram is the author of Grief: The Inside Story – A Guide to Surviving the Loss of a Loved One.

Posted in being me, blogging, life, writing. Tags: , , , , , , . 5 Comments »

Favorite Drink

February 14, 2026 — Pat Bertram
Daily writing prompt
What is your favorite drink?
View all responses

My favorite drink? As in favorite everyday beverage? Or as in adult beverage?

For an everyday drink, I generally stick with a cup of tea in the morning, or perhaps a weak milky coffee, and then drink water the rest of the day. Boooring!

So I won’t talk about that — I’ll talk about my favorite “drink” drink. As in alcohol. To be honest, I barely drink, even though my sister once gifted me with a lovely miniature liquor cabinet, something I always wanted. (Yeah, I know — weird for a self-proclaimed hardly-ever drinker to want something like that, right?)

A couple times a year, if I’m feeling under the weather, I’ll make myself a hot toddy with a fiery ginger tea, lemon, and spiced rum, but that’s for medicinal purposes. And every once in a great while, I’ll take a nip of something in my liquor cabinet just to experience my wild side.

Though I seldom drink even them, there are two drinks I do like, but mostly because they come with memories.

Exactly ten years ago today, I camped at Organ Pipe Cactus National Monument on my travels across the county. Stunning scenery, beautiful weather, congenial fellow campers. One evening, a camper (drawn by my car, more than me), who was exploring the south and west on his motorcycle, brought a bottle of Grand Marnier to my campsite. He and I sat under the bright stars with the glow of Mexico to the south, sipped our drinks, and chatted. It was such a magical experience that even today, a sip of Grand Marnier will take me back to that warm star-lit night.

I also occasionally have a sip of Bailey’s Irish Cream, but mostly, I save what I have so I can drink a toast to my mother on her birthday or deathday as a memorial, since it was her favorite drink. The glass I use is a regulation Bailey’s glass that once belonged to her. (She used to have a cupboard full of unmatched stemware. I kept those goblets when I cleaned out the house after my father died, and so now I, too, have a cupboard of unmatched glassware.)

Even considering those special two drinks, that little glass display case sits in my kitchen cabinet mostly unused but delighting me with the thought of finally having my very own miniature liquor cabinet.

***

Pat Bertram is the author of Grief: The Inside Story – A Guide to Surviving the Loss of a Loved One.

Posted in being me, culture, life. Tags: , , , , , . 6 Comments »

Comeuppance

February 13, 2026 — Pat Bertram

I’ve had a bit of comeuppance. Or maybe a come-down-ance? Been humbled, anyway.

I’d read that screenwriters are told to repeat the plot of a story at least four times during the course of a movie because viewers no longer have the ability to follow a plot all the way through. Not only are they distracted by their phones, but all that scrolling and seeing small snippets of videos, comments, and headlines has made them unable to focus. That lack of focus is also why few people read books — they can’t comprehend what they are reading, can’t keep the story in their head long enough to make sense of it.

This made me feel proud of myself that even at my age I could focus on a story, often being able to read an entire book at a sitting and keep the whole thing in my head. I’m even getting to the point where I can keep the entire four million words of the Wheel of Time books in my head, which is important because of all the foreshadowing. (You can’t tell when something that was foreshadowed happens if you can’t remember the foreshadowing.)

Anyway, lately I’ve spent a lot of time online, following the Buddhist Monks’ Walk for Peace, listening to black conservative commentators (I was interested in seeing what they thought about being told they were too stupid to figure out how to get an ID), following the backlash of the halftime show and its alternative (what I learned is that if you didn’t like either, you’re probably just plain old), and various other things.

And you know what happened? I can no longer focus on reading. I can’t keep even a chapter in my head, let alone an entire book. Can’t sit still without wanting to go check to see what’s going on elsewhere.

I never planned this experiment, never planned to test the theory that online activities shorten one’s attention span, but I sure got a quick result. Luckily, I figured out what the problem is and know an easy solution — spend less time online. But what about people who have lived their entire life practicing what I did for just a few weeks? Can they ever learn to concentrate? Though I suppose what it comes down to is if they even want to. And I doubt they do.

The world has seldom been a comfortable place for me since I’ve never fit into any socio-cultural setting. We didn’t have a television when I was a kid and we weren’t allowed to listen to popular radio stations — my father wanted us to grow up to be different and, well, he got his wish. Hence, growing up I seldom understood the cultural references of my classmates, and since I don’t have television now, I don’t understand today’s cultural references. My preferred music is silence. My preferred activity is reading books. My preferred companions are those who know how to think. So even though I’ve usually been able to find a niche for myself, I never felt as if the world was mine.

And now I know for a fact that the world isn’t mine. I might still have a decade left or possibly even two, but I’m on my way out. The world belongs to younger people. And in their world, maybe being able to focus or keep stories in their heads isn’t an issue.

As for me, I’ve learned that even a bit of misplaced pride can end up being humbling.

***

Pat Bertram is the author of Grief: The Inside Story – A Guide to Surviving the Loss of a Loved One.

 

Posted in being me, culture, internet, life. Tags: , , , , , . 4 Comments »

Strange Thoughts

February 10, 2026 — Pat Bertram

I just had a strange thought. There is a great assumption of hate here in this country, but is there really that much hate? If people didn’t keep telling us folks here in the USA to get rid of our hate, would there be any hate amongst us? Would we even think about hate or hating if they didn’t keep pushing that narrative? They tell us that love is stronger than hate, but isn’t even that trite comment making an assumption of hate? (Otherwise, why would anyone think the comparison needs to be made? Saying “Love is strong” would be fine by itself.) Even I, who have no hate in my heart at all (that I know of, anyway), find myself nodding along when people talk about the prevalence of hate. And yet, it seems as if the only people talking about hate are those who have a platform and are determined to have their say, as if they are the arbiter of morality. As if those who are sitting in their gated mansions know the pulse of the rest of us.

But then, today, it’s not just celebrities — athletes, singers, actors, newscasters — with a platform, but anyone who has a phone and some sort of social media account. And the videos that get shown everywhere are people screaming out their anger and hatred. Paradoxically, the screamers don’t think it’s hatred they are spewing; they think it’s . . . I don’t know; some sort of relevancy, perhaps.

The rest of us are going about our lives . . . not hating. Not even thinking about hate. Just living. Being. Enjoying what the day brings — for me, a couple of days ago, it was lunch and grocery shopping with one friend, an easy walk with another, and lots of sunshine. Yesterday it was watering my lawn, enjoying the last warm day before the cold strikes again. And today, well, today has just started. But it will be a peaceful day for me whatever I decide to do.

I’m aware this isn’t any great insight, just a stray thought.

Another stray thought (though this isn’t as “stray” as the first since it obviously came from somewhere, which is the monks walking for peace). There are millions of people all over the world (93 countries, including the USA) watching videos of the walk. The videos show the monks walking, but they also show the people who are witnessing the walk. People of all ages and colors and abilities coming together to participate in a once-in-a-lifetime transformative experience. The vast majority of the hundreds of thousands of people who pause their lives to watch the monks pass or gather to hear them talk, are quiet, respectful, loving and kind. Will people from all those countries see Americans any differently after this? Will they see we are not the hateful folk we are portrayed to be? Or will we all still be affected by the “hate/not hate” rhetoric that so often passes as truth?

Strange thoughts, indeed.

(I hope I’m not breaking any copyright laws by posting the following photo of all the places where people who are following the walk for peace live, but I find it fascinating and wanted to share it.)

***

Pat Bertram is the author of Grief: The Inside Story – A Guide to Surviving the Loss of a Loved One.

Posted in being me, culture, internet, life. Tags: , , , , , , . 2 Comments »
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