My Small Life

September 9, 2026 — Pat Bertram

This has been a rough summer for me, one of sadness, incomprehension, and uneasiness about what is going on in this country. I blamed myself for a while, thinking my dejection was my own fault for paying attention, but it seems as if this summer really is an historic one, where the hidden agendas suddenly became unhidden. One that shocked me is the move to make socialism and communism thinkable, where for so many years it truly was unthinkable, even though behind the scenes the push was in that direction (the push, specifically, to take over one of the established parties rather than create one of their own). But now the plan is not only thinkable, it’s visible. The lies are more obvious, the propaganda more blatant, and the willingness of too many people to accept the headlines and the chopped video clips too appalling. Whatever the reason — the success of the victim/oppressor ideology taught in schools, the move to make Israel the instigator of all ills, the hatred of one old man, and anything else that might be behind it all — it does seem as if this is a pivotal summer and autumn.

So much, too, of the past is coming out — the truth that I knew but had no proof, such as the whole Covid mess, the insane level of lawfare perpetrated against elected officials, the election fraud — that it makes this summer even more of a pivotal one. Since too many people are holding on to the “truths” that their opinions are based on rather than the facts that could cause an identity crisis, they are exacerbating the rift that already has been created.

I know I’ve been talking about this way too much, but as I’ve mentioned before, writing is how I try to make sense of the unsensible. The plethora of these posts, as well as the all too obvious evidence of my dejection, has probably led people to think that I’ve given up my pursuit of gratitude. But there is no reason one can’t see what is going on and still dress themselves in thankfulness.

Because, despite it all, I am grateful for so many things. I’m grateful that people are fighting the push toward communism. I’m grateful that, despite my sense that it’s dangerous to speak the truth, it’s still a protected right. I’m grateful that we’re allowed to move freely without restrictions, still allowed to think, still allowed to own property.

It’s the last I’m most grateful for — owning my own house. As long as I pay my taxes, so far, there’s no one who can take my home from me. I’m grateful for every minute I spend taking care of the house and yard. I’m grateful for every beautiful thing I’ve brought into my life, whether outbuildings, plants, or friends.

I’m grateful, too, for the many moves of my life that have taken me from big cities to small towns until here I am, almost at the edge of civilization, where there’s a strong sense of community.

Is it necessary to pay attention to the outside world? That is one of the questions these blog posts never seem to clarify for me. I could block out the world quite simply — turn off my computer, turn my eyes to just what is directly in front of me, turn my mind to small issues, such as how to change smoke alarm batteries without getting on a ladder. The really important things of a small life!

And that, I think, is what I am most grateful for — that I have the choice to take a look at the big world beyond my environs and then find solace in my small life.

***

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

Posted in life, history/myth, being me, house, home, gardening. Tags: , , , , , . 3 Comments »

Opinions

September 6, 2026 — Pat Bertram

I saw a quote, author unknown, that said, “A person is starting to progress down the road to wisdom when he begins to understand that his opinion is just an opinion.” I don’t know about being on the road to wisdom, but I’ve always known my opinion counts for little. I’ve never been able to talk anyone into believing anything that I do (not that I ever really wanted to); in fact, I can barely get anyone to listen to any of my opinions, especially those based on years of research because of course, to them, their opinions trump mine.

What seeing that quote did was turn on a light in my head. If my opinion is just an opinion, then so is everyone else’s, which means, I can give their opinions as little credence as they give mine.

Which leads me to wonder: if opinions are not anything beyond a mere attitude or personal view of something and don’t really mean anything, then what’s the point? More than that, if everyone’s opinion is equal, it means that the opinion of a person who has spent a lifetime studying a subject, such as history or politics, is exactly the same as the opinion of a person who watched a ticktock video and now thinks they know the truth.

This wouldn’t matter if, in fact, opinions didn’t mean anything, but they are dangerous in the hands of people who know little. For example, some of the young people who want socialism think it means being social. That’s a dangerous opinion since it can lead down a road most of the people in the USA don’t want to travel. Opinions are also dangerous when vented in front of people who don’t believe those opinions, because to certain groups, their opinions are the only “right” ones and everyone else needs to be excoriated for their views. Most dangerous of all, of course, are news media that packages opinion as fact.

On the other hand, sometimes opinions really are useless. For example, more than three-fourths of the country wants secure elections, but the people in Congress who are supposed to be representing those three-fourths refuse to do what people want.

So . . . opinions. Everyone has one, they say, though most people have a whole slew of them, some based on nothing more than “feelings.”

I don’t know what to take away from this “opinion” post, but the quote, at least, made me think about opinions in a different manner. Will it change anything? Probably not, though by giving this topic a piece of my mind, it might help bring me peace of mind. So that’s something.

***

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, history/myth, life. Tags: , , , , . 2 Comments »

Preparing for Visitors

September 5, 2026 — Pat Bertram

Until the hyperawareness of other peoples’ germs that held during the Covid years, if I had company, I always cleaned house super well before guests arrived and didn’t worry about cleaning after they left. During those years, I wasn’t all that concerned about cleaning beforehand, though I made sure to clean extra well after any guest left.

Now? I’m not sure what to do. I’m expecting out-of-town guests in a little more than a week, and of course, I want the place to look it’s best, but I don’t think I have it in me to do a deep clean twice in a short period of time. (Once before and once after.) Actually, I’m not sure I have it in me to do it once, so I’m taking it easy, doing a bit at a time. Mostly the house is company-ready — fairly neat and presentable except for hard-to-clean corners, but I feel as if I should put in an effort.

Luckily, they will be staying at an Airbnb across the street, which gives us all space as well as comfortable quarters for them (and their own bathroom), so I won’t have to give up my bedroom for them. I imagine I’ll end up doing what I always do when it comes to housework — do the least possible until I get one of those rare urges to clean every corner and polish every surface. Hopefully, the urge will come before they get here. If not, well, they are getting older, too, so perhaps they will be as blind to dusty corners as I am.

Meantime, there is the yard. I’ve mostly been keeping up with that, too, and what doesn’t get done will just have to be chalked up to . . . I was going to say old age, but honestly, not working as hard as perhaps I could is more of an inclination than a physical impossibility.

There are some areas I can’t do much about. During one of my lopping sessions, I trimmed an overgrown bush, and what was left was mostly trunks and a few branches that were too thick to cut. The bush is growing new leaves, and perhaps there will be enough of them to cover the scraggly mess of branches, but if not, oh, well. The same goes for the area where I pulled up dead sunflowers and cut back the pumpkin vine to allow more room for the rest of the wildflowers to grow. Again, I’ll just have to hope it looks all right, and if not, it will be another case of “oh, well.”

The third mess I made in an effort to clean up is in my raised garden. I lopped off the heads of the marigolds that were taking over to give the remaining plants breathing room. Since I ended up with a lot of empty spaces, I fill in with my collection of fairy houses.

With any luck, the yard will dazzle. In the next week or so, it’s possible the chrysanthemum will pop, the holes in the gardens will fill in, and the grass will continue to green up in the cooler weather.

For sure, though, there will be plenty of pretty sights to see. As I’ve learned, it’s only me who sees the holes where I chopped things back. Everyone else sees the overall beauty as well as specific plants, which makes my concern just that . . . a concern and not a problem.

***

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

Posted in being me, dealing with old age, gardening, home, house, life, photography. Tags: , , , , . 2 Comments »

Pretense

September 1, 2026 — Pat Bertram

It’s funny to think how often I’ve done this: sitting at my computer, staring at a blank “page,” trying to think of something to write about.

Nowadays, the problem isn’t so much what to write, but whether or not I want to write what’s in my mind, but still, whatever the reason, I am sitting here as I have so often over the nineteen years since I started this blog, just . . . staring.

You’d think this would be my prompt to forget about trying to blog every day, but then, what would I do with all the time I would have spent staring at the blank page? I’m already spending less time playing the hidden object game that once fascinated me and spending even less time reading news commentary articles, which leaves me with a lot of free time already. Giving up blogging would add even more free time to the free time I already don’t know what to do with.

Oddly, the days still pass quickly, perhaps because the early mornings are spent outside working on the yard, which takes at least a couple of hours. And then, of course, I need to get cleaned up and cooled down, and that adds to the gardening time or subtracts from the free time or whatever the math might be.

Periodically, I toy with the idea of not paying attention at all to the larger world (that is, the world larger than my own enclosed space) because really, it gains me nothing other than a deep-seated sadness at what I fear could be coming. (The fear isn’t irrational since the globalists and the sell-out politicians have been pushing us in a collective direction for more than a hundred years, but still, what good does it do me to give it mental space?) On the other hand, if I could forget about the outside world, I’d miss out on learning such things as “sciolistic.” What a lovely word! It was used by a cabinet member and refers to people who pretend to knowledge they don’t have, and that does describe too many of the folks in Congress. They seem to have perfected “pretense.” Not just the pretense of knowing what they don’t know, but also the pretense of working for the citizens they were elected to serve. (Too often the citizens they are serving are themselves.)

Of course, who am I to denigrate anyone for pretense, since here I sit, staring at the blank page (well, it’s not so blank right now, come to think of it), pretending for all the world I have something to say.

I suppose I should give myself credit for at least trying to say something, no matter how inane, but all that the effort really says is, “Look at me!”

And maybe that is good enough. Since I spend so much time alone, there’s no one to see me. Well, except for me, of course, and I’m not sure that counts as being seen. It also assumes that being seen is important. Perhaps it is. Though, of course, it could just be more pretense.

***

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, life. Tags: , , , , . Leave a Comment »

My Mental Landscape

August 31, 2026 — Pat Bertram

“People will allow their faults to be shown them; they will let themselves be punished for them; they will patiently endure many things because of them; they only become impatient when they have to lay them aside.”— Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

“A man does not mind being blamed for his faults, and being punished for them, and he patiently suffers much for them; but he becomes impatient if he is required to give them up.” — Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

I’m not sure which of the above quotes is the real one — I’ve seen both quoted and can’t find a definitive source. I suppose the difference could be in the translation, but either way, they basically say the same thing — that people are okay with being shown their faults and being blamed for them; they only resist when they are asked to change.

Does this still hold true today? It seems as if nowadays, no one admits to any fault. If they are shown what might be considered a fault, they not only fight the allegation of “fault,” but also insist on holding tight to that particular behavior in the belief that they can act anyway they want and to heck with everyone else.

I get the impression that today people are taught that they are perfect the way they are, and to a certain extent, I do believe that’s true since each person is uniquely themselves and beyond compare. But the problem with that idea is that it doesn’t give people any reason to try to improve, because why should they if they are already perfect? And without any incentive to better themselves, they can fall into a depressive state, because part of them — the part that needed the affirmation — still believes they fall short. A terrible thing to believe — that you are perfect, that you are the way you are and will always be that way because the truth is, no one really is perfect, and to believe otherwise seems to bring with it a whole lot of hopelessness.

(To be perfect in the eyes of God, as many people believe, is completely different than being perfect in one’s own eyes and in the eyes of others. It’s possible to accept a God-given perfection while at the same time accepting one’s human limitations.)

If, on the other hand, a simple word was added to the affirmation, it would make more sense. You are perfect the way you are for now. That way, you can celebrate who you are while you are doing your best to improve yourself. Being kinder, perhaps. Not being as self-absorbed, for sure.

This is all hypothetical, of course, because when it comes to me, I am perfect. Um, that’s a joke. Sort of. I don’t deal with perfections. I deal with today, and always today arrives with the attempt to do better than yesterday. Exercise more or eat better food or be less judgmental or clean house or whatever. Just something that makes me a bit more than I was yesterday, and perhaps a bit less than I will be tomorrow. On the other hand, if someone pointed out my faults, I would bristle, bite my tongue and try to ignore them. (Both the person and the faults.) I’ve always been my own worst critic, and since I do periodically clean my mental house and take stock of my emotional responses, I am wounded by criticism when it is heaped on me by others.

So, am I agreeing with Goethe or refuting him? I don’t know. I’m just wandering through my mental landscape, seeing what I can see.

 

***

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: , , , , , , . 4 Comments »

Time to Fill

August 26, 2026 — Pat Bertram

I thought I’d have trouble spending way less time on the internet, but the only problem I have so far is what to do with all that free time. There’s only so much work I can do outside before the heat makes being out there a dangerous folly, so I’m not doing too much more than I had been. I did clamber about my back garden patch, the one where I planted a pumpkin vine that is creeping over the entire area, to do some weeding. Luckily, I was able to do most of the work near the fence, so I had something to hold on to as I worked my way through the jungle. To my delight, I discovered a pumpkin hidden back there! It’s still green, so it will be a while until I can harvest it. Meantime, the first pumpkin I found has turned a luscious orange. Now I just need to figure out what to do with it. Maybe cook it, peel it, puree it, and freeze it. The best part is that the work will take up some of my free time.

And I will have to find things to do to use my reclaimed time. Although I’d just as soon not play the game I’ve been fooling around with for the past six years (being at home during the Covid mess and needing something to do is what got me started with it), it’s hard not to want to log in when I get bored. So I do. Log in. Not to play. Just to check to see what’s going on, maybe play one of the less irritating side games for a few minutes, then I’m finished. Anything more annoys the heck out of me. It’s a simple hidden object game where you look for hidden objects in pictures, and yet they act as if each move is a major casino-like win, with all sorts of lights and flashes, and whirling objects that seem to fly out of the screen. Luckily, I have nothing invested in the game, so whether I play or not is no big deal.

I also check on the news aggregator I follow, but even that now is a quick in and out. To be honest, I’m getting to the point where I don’t want to know what’s going on out there. I’m so much better off in my own little world. Or in the magic worlds of the two fantasy authors I like. It doesn’t even bother me anymore that the books were never finished. Well, I suppose The Wheel of Time was finished, but since it was finished by a terrible substitute author after Robert Jordan died, to me, it is unfinished and will always remain so.

I did find another series from that same era (before Woke hit the fantasy genre), though who knows if I will like it — the reviews are mixed. Still, I’ve read about a third of The Dragonbone Chair, and so far, so good. Best of all, it’s a million-word novel spread out over four different books, so even if it turns out that it’s not my sort of story, it will keep me company through thousands of meals.

Although I don’t particularly like fantasy, in fact I can’t stand most of it, there is a genre within a genre — a coming-of-age/hero’s journey story in an earthlike world, where much is familiar though skewed with a bit of strange — that I do tend to enjoy, but so far, I’ve only found three such series that appeal to me. Luckily, these stories are all very long with multiple books in the series and deserve more than a few readings. In fact, it was only during the second reading of The Kingkiller Chronicles that I realized that much of the dialogue is in rhyme or seven-word sentences depending upon the character. Something to go back and pay attention to. Best of all, none of those books has much to do with our world today except in an allegorical or fable-ous way, which is good for my peace of mind.

Still, as with working outside, there’s only so much reading, and working puzzles, and such that I can do in a day, so there’s still a lot of time to fill.

Luckily, as I find myself reaching for the keyboard to offset an upsurge of boredom, I remember what is waiting for me, and that makes it easy to stay away.

At least for now. Who knows what I’ll get up to in the coming days.

***

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

Posted in being me, books, history/myth, internet, life. Tags: , , , , , . 5 Comments »

We Are Not the Same

August 24, 2026 — Pat Bertram

I mentioned a few days ago about no-showing contractors and handypeople (just to be gender neutral, even though I haven’t found a single handywoman around here who does the work of a handyman), but to my astonishment, the guy I’d hired to clean my gutters did show up! He had kept me informed — mostly — about his no shows, so that was a point in his favor. He and his hired hand did a great job cleaning out the gutters, so that was another point in his favor. He’s also a personable fellow, so that is yet another point and he gets still another point for his willingness to do any job, no matter how big or how small. Plenty of points for me to keep his card handy.

When he was here, I mentioned a few things that needed to be done that workers hadn’t show up to do, such as filling in the cracks in the stucco, and a few things I hadn’t yet asked anyone to do, such as repainting the peeling trim on the eaves, so when the weather cools down, he’ll be back to do some more work.

The morning turned out great, especially since he loved my car and my yard. (Those are two ways to always get on my good side!)

The most amazing thing was when he and his helper gathered up the tarp and moved from one side of the house to the other. As you can see from the photo below, there is a knee-high drop-off on the ramp to the right of the door. They strode up the ramp that’s parallel to the door and kept on walking even when I yelped that there was a drop-off. The guy called over his shoulder, “I see it,” and kept on walking. The two of them walked off the ledge and over the flowers as if they weren’t even there. I was going to say they walked off the ledge with the ease of someone stepping over a crack, but even so, sometimes people hesitate a fraction of a second before stepping over an uneven crack. But these guys didn’t pause for even that fraction a second. There wasn’t even a hitch in their step when they landed. They just kept on walking.

Me? I stood there with my mouth open. And when I could talk, all I managed to say was, “That’s not fair!”

Admittedly, he was half my age, but even so, it seemed like an astounding feat. I could walk off a curb like that when I was young, but something that steep? I didn’t know such a thing was possible for anyone, but apparently so. It does prove to me, though, that contrary to what people want us to believe, we are definitely not the same.

***

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

Posted in being me, home, house, life. Tags: , , , , . 2 Comments »

Complicating My Life

August 23, 2026 — Pat Bertram

If everyone were honest, just think how different life would be. No need to protect yourself from theft, fraud, scams, hacking, and any number of other dishonest occupations that complicate life for the rest of us.

My brother called me to warn me that Microsoft Windows does automatic encryption when you close down your computer so that if it’s stolen, thieves can’t get into your records even if they can figure out your password. The problem is, if your computer is dropped (for example) and you get it fixed, the encryption goes into force, and you need your encryption code to get back into your own computer. Apparently, this code is about 40 characters long, so isn’t exactly memorizable by most people.

Anyway, since it took him hours and a separate computer to finally get his encryption code so he could get into his own computer, he thought he’d save me the same hassle in case I ever needed the code, and so he tried to walk me through the process of finding out what my encryption code is.

As it turned out, I couldn’t get into my Microsoft account because they wanted to send a security code to a defunct email. I was able to change the email to a current one, but meantime, they have placed a hold on the account for 30 days. I can still do things like check my email, but nothing beyond that until the end of next month.

So why was that first recovery email incorrect? I didn’t realize I’d ever given them a recovery email, so I didn’t change it when Microsoft made it near impossible for me to access that recovery email account.

And why was it impossible to access that recovery email? A year and a half ago, Microsoft informed me I would have to download an authenticator app to my phone so I could continue using that email account, the one associated with my webpage. The bizarre thing is that this particular email was never able to be downloaded to my phone, and the authenticator doesn’t work for PCs, so they were demanding something utterly unnecessary. Since I didn’t want to clutter my phone with something so ridiculous, I ended up having to go through the insanity of updating my accounts with the new email. Except, apparently, for Microsoft.

I wondered if anything had changed, so I tried to log into my webpage and check the status of the email from there. First, they wanted me to download an authenticator app, and when I passed on that, they sent a code to my phone, which I used. Then they again told me to download the authenticator app, and when again I didn’t do it, the same page came up asking for my phone so they could send me a second security code. I gave them the number again and they said, “You already used that number. We need another one.”

So, since I don’t have another phone, I still can’t access that email, and now I can’t even access my web page. You’d think I was big business rather than a solitary person with almost nothing to protect.

My webpage is paid up for five more years, and who knows what might happen. Considering that my online presence as well as my following is steadily shrinking (in fact, probably because of my recent political commentary, I’ve lost three-fourths of my readers), I might let the site go rather than go through all the foofaraw to pay for additional years. Luckily, my website was updated a couple of years ago, and nothing has changed since then, so I’m fine. And who knows — in five years I might be finished with the whole online thing. (If, in fact, in this world, anyone can be finished with it.)

So, after all that hassle, with nothing accomplished, I asked my brother what would happen if I just turned off the encryption. My computer never leaves my desk, so I’m not in danger of inadvertently losing it, and if someone breaks into my house and steals the computer, I’ll have more troubles than an encryption code could solve.

As it turns out, it is possible to turn off the encryption code, but it takes perhaps 8 hours for the computer to completely unencrypt everything. So I left everything as is until next month at least.

Why does everything have to be so complicated? Oh, right. It’s because of all those dishonest folk who are so willing to trespass on the good graces of the rest of us.

***

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

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

Young vs Old

August 22, 2026 — Pat Bertram

I’ve been playing a hidden object game for a while now, and every time the game updates — about once a month — I think it’s time to find something else to do because every month, they add annoying effects. For example, a couple of months ago, they added an effect where when you clicked on the found object, it flashed a bright light. Yikes. That’s enough to give a person migraines, to exacerbate epileptic tendencies, to aggravate people with the beginnings of cataracts, as well as create a whole bunch of other problems. Apparently, enough of us complained, so that they removed it. All went okay for a couple of months, but now they brought it back. It’s not as much of a bright flashing light, but it’s still a quick flash of a light, which is just as bad. Even worse, it slows down the game, especially if you have to close your eyes every time you click on an object to keep from being hit with the flash.

From what I can tell, the game players are mostly middle aged and older, not a whole lot of young folks, though I imagine the people who write the code for the game are all young. (Or AI for all I know.) Still, we older folk don’t need flashing lights to hypnotize us into playing. We do better in a staid atmosphere, but apparently, that’s not fun for the developers. I also bet they’re trying to attract more younger people, but it doesn’t seem a good business model to upset the older folk before they attract the younger generations.

Usually I can get used to the changes, especially since I turn off the annoying sounds, but those flashing lights are a deal breaker. So I’m going to have to find an alternative to the game as a way of wasting my time. Reading used to do it, but I still haven’t been able to force myself back to the library. I simply do not want to read romances or mysteries or thrillers or pretty much anything written in the age of AI, so I read and reread the books I have — a couple of fantasy series. I did order another series that seemed like one I could read, which surprised me — both the ordering and the finding. Most of the books in that genre are written by writers I don’t like who use bizarre names with bizarre spellings that leave me totally confused, and I’m confused enough as it is. (Not really, but it sounded good.) So finding something I might like, something, moreover that I’d never read, is appealing.

I’m not only going to have to step away from the game, but the internet in general. For a time, I liked seeing that the United States was actually working to break the globalist hold over us, but now that the midterms are nearing, the part I’m interested in is being drowned out by the horrendous specter of a communist takeover from inside the country. Not that I think they could do anything permanently — the whole reason for the second amendment is to prevent that sort of thing — but it could be a sad and depressing time. Even if by chance those so-called socialists are voted out, which I don’t think they can be since the blue states simply arrange the votes so they get who they want, it’s still sad and depressing to think that so many United States citizens hate this country and want to rip it to shreds. And I simply don’t want to see that hatred anymore.

It seems as if I got way off track. Or maybe not. Maybe the game and the politics are simply two sides of the same issue — the young vs the old.

Today, while trying to play the game, I understood why so many young people have no use for us older people. They need the lights and sounds and constant changes while we prefer a quieter game. For us, time goes so fast, it seems as if the changes come in a constant flash, while for them, the time must drag between the changes. We also don’t need the changes — we’ve lived through so much that it’s a comfort to immerse ourselves in a slowly evolving game instead of one that changes rapidly. But for younger folk, it’s all new and exciting and a thrill to be able to constantly think of new ways to “improve” the game.

It’s the same with the greater world. For us older folk, at least those of us who are not imbued with a savior complex, we’ve experienced way more than the younger people, and prefer a slowly evolving political scene, not the rapid and rapacious one we have right now. But for them, it’s all new. They are caught up in the whole “change the world to suit me” mystique without ever realizing the damage they could be doing.

So my solution? (For me, that is. There is no solution for the idiocy of youth except time, and no hope for the older people who should know better than to root for communism.) It’s a matter of my trying to find something else to do to shut out the outside world. The problem with that is that I risk becoming too insular. So, I guess, I’ll just do what I always do but just be a bit more circumspect and a lot more protective of myself and my peace of mind.

***

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

Posted in being me, internet, life. Tags: , , , , . Leave a Comment »

Dealing With Uncertainty

August 20, 2026 — Pat Bertram
Daily writing prompt
How do you deal with uncertainty?
View all responses

Some people go through life absolutely certain about themselves, their opinions, their place in life, and life itself. Even as a kid I noticed this. There were some grade schoolers who absolutely knew without any tinge of uncertainty about . . . well, about everything. Those kids tended to be the leaders, the ones others would follow, perhaps, because like me, they were riddled with uncertainty. Unfortunately, for me, my uncertainty about myself, my place in life, and life in general, also encompassed those “certain” people, and so I just sort of “uncertained” my way through grade school, into high school, and into the rest of my life.

Because of that pervasive uncertainty, I learned to learn. I wanted to be certain, but I also wanted to be certain I was certain about things that were true, not just the things that everyone else was certain of.

During times of exceptional uncertainty — such as the years after Jeff died when I was left without an anchor, and so just hovered above life, trying to find something to tie myself to — I simply endured the uncertainty. I even learned to embrace it because after all, life is uncertainty. Some people are lucky, and their faith brings them a certain degree of certainty, but as an adult, I was never gifted with that sort of belief.

And so I deal with my uncertainty today the same way I always did, by trying to find out the truth.

This very idea of certainty and uncertainty is one I’ve been struggling with lately. People seem utterly convinced of the rightness of their ideals and politics and even their own righteousness, and yet, to me, they seem ignorant of any fact or historical context or perspective. Which is where my uncertainty grabs hold of me. If they are so certain of things my years of learning have taught me are wrong, maybe I am the one who’s wrong. So I go back and forth, seeking out the origins of my thoughts, digging deeper into history and finding people who know more than I do about certain subjects, and I seldom find I have to contradict myself, mostly, I think, because any idea I had or have was a long time forming. I try not to jump to conclusions, try not to believe something just because I want it to be true, and yet there is that dichotomy between what I have come to know are facts, and what lies and untruths other people are so certain are true.

I’m not in grade school anymore, and so I see that certainty for what it is — a belief some people hold on to because it’s what they were taught or have come to know through ticktock or wherever they get their ideas, and because they need that certainty. Since they are so convinced of their certainty, they feel free to blindly hate those who disagree without ever looking beyond the dark veil of their own certainty. Most people don’t even see they have a veil.

So what makes me think I don’t also have a veil? What makes me trust myself more than the “certain” ones? The same way I trusted myself in grade school — by not trusting. Not trusting the “experts,” not trusting the “certains,” not even trusting myself. And it’s this uncertainty, I think, that leads me often to a truth, sometimes even to a truth I dare not say because of the backlash from the “certains.” Uncertainty leads to study, to seeing what the “certains” are certain is true, seeing where they got their “knowledge,” and heading out from there.

In a discussion in the novel The Wise Man’s Fears by Patrick Rothfuss, a character defended a story he told that the others found pointless. “Not pointless,” he said. “It’s questions you can’t answer that teach us the most. They teach us how to think. If you give a man an answer, all he gains is a little fact. But give him a question and he’ll look for his own answers. . . . That way, when he finds the answers, they’ll be precious to him. The harder the questions, the harder we hunt. The harder we hunt, the more we learn.”

And that’s why I trust that my truth is closer to the truth than those who scream their epithets and polish the same old “facts,” and publish their vile insults.

Am I certain? No. And neither should anyone else be, but that’s always been the way. The “certains” are heard because they scream loudest while we uncertains quietly stumble around searching for more of the truth.

***

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, life, writing. Tags: , , , , , . 2 Comments »
« Older posts