Quandary

Many of my posts this year have been prompted by outside sources: a few in answer to official blog prompts, a few in reaction to articles I read, and more than a few in response to my reread of the first eleven Wheel of Time books.

I’ve mostly given up reading online articles. I don’t want to know what is going on in the world, but more than that, I’m trying to live in the offscreen world. I was going to say I’m trying to live in the real world, but the Wheel of Time isn’t the real world, though it often feels like it since it’s a reimagining of our world, myths, legends, cultures. But even so, I’ve been trying to read other books for now.

Which leaves me in something of a quandary since there’s not a whole lot left to blog about. Most of the official blog prompts aren’t that interesting to me, and with the up and down weather as well as the hazy days from out-of-state smoke, I haven’t been doing much outside, which gives me even less to write about. (Though I did find one lone hyacinth in my yard to celebrate the first day of spring!)

Since I never actually decided to blog every day, it won’t be going against any principle if I simply stopped, but I’m on a streak — 79 days and counting — so it seems a shame to give up now.

I should be glad there’s nothing much to say, especially with the anniversary of Jeff’s death coming up. Normally that in itself would have brought an onslaught of words, but our shared life ended sixteen years and a whole-lot-of-living ago. As a memorial, I had considered reading Grief: The Great Yearning, more or less my journal of that first year of grief, but I leafed through it the other day trying to see if there was any significance to a moment of sadness I experienced, and nope. Nope to finding any significance to sadness on that particular day. And nope to rereading the book. Sheesh. Just what I saw was enough misery to sink a tanker. It’s better for me to leave all that emotion between the covers of the book.

So . . . quandary. What to write when there’s nothing to write?

With any luck, I’ll find an answer in time to write tomorrow’s post.

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

Blog Prompts

When one blogs every day, which apparently I am doing, topics are sometimes hard to find. Usually, I write about what is currently in my head in an effort to clear it out — I do not like thoughts careening around in all that echoey space. Sometimes, though, what is in my head is not something I want to go on record as saying, especially when it touches on current events and policies. There is too much volatility surrounding the vocalization of such thoughts, which would only serve to add more careening thoughts to those already in my head.

WordPress, the platform that hosts my blog, offers a daily prompt that I sometimes make use of, but most are of topics that leave my mind blank. Nothing to say. Move on.

During previous bouts of daily blogging, I kept a list of blog topics, and sometimes I refer to that list to find something I’d like to write about. Oddly, I was able to delete many of those topics because they recently came up on the WordPress daily prompt. In fact, those from the prompt and those on my list showed up in the very same order, so apparently, they replay the same topics.

Mostly, though, I check out the list, and then put it away again, still not having anything to say about any of those items.

I do have a response to: “What Are Your Two Favorite Things to Wear?” Comfortable clothes with the addition of a hat when I go outside. But that’s the total extent of my thoughts on the subject, so it really doesn’t do much good as a prompt.

But I have no response to: “What is the worst thing you have ever done?” Cripes, I sure as heck don’t want to dig around in my memory bank looking for such a thing. If I’ve forgotten it, that’s all to the good since it probably means I’ve made amends or come to terms with my actions or it’s so far in the past that it no longer matters. The worst thing I’ve done today is renege on my intention to stay away from anything that can be construed as news — I did some research for a friend but stopped after I started getting jittery.

Nor do I have a response for: “What’s the worst thing that ever happened to you?” I suppose the logical answer would be Jeff’s death, but the fact is, it was a heck of a lot worse for him than me since he’s sixteen years gone and I’m still here. I also don’t like the thought of making his death about me, though my grief was all about me and how I tried to get through the days until I found a new way of being. But I’ve written hundreds of posts about that grief and don’t need to rehash any of it. As for the worst thing that happened to me today? Perhaps that jittery feeling at catching a glimpse of what’s going on in the world.

I should have a response to: “What moment are you proudest of in your life?” But I don’t. If I thought about it, I’m sure there would be many things I am proud about, but as for a single moment, such as standing up to a bully or saving the world with a well-placed word, there’s nothing. Except perhaps for keeping my mouth shut over what exactly in the news today gave me the jitters.

The following item on the list is not a question, more of a theme for a blog: “Don’t like doing, like having done.” I touched on that a few weeks ago when I wrote about not doing anything for fun. I do a lot of things, not so much for enjoyment, but simply for the doing, though I like having done the things. Like gardening for example.

Another theme that I think on. A while back, a friend said to me, “I was told once I was dead. Then we laughed.” Although this comment doesn’t prompt me to write anything in a blog post, it would make a good theme for a book, perhaps a horror story, or even a story about someone coming back as an angel.

Which brings me to yet another prompt: “write a novel about someone, perhaps an angel unaware who changes the life of everyone she meets, not in an It’s a Wonderful Life sort of way, but just someone going about life and things change.” It’s been done many times, I’m sure. In fact, I know it has since I hear echoes of those stories in the back of my mind.

Another prompt: Joe Hill said, “Getting Old is No Way to Stop Being Young” Sure it’s true, but a whole blog post on the obvious? I think not.

Then there’s Paul Coelho who wrote, “Maybe the journey isn’t so much about becoming anything. Maybe it’s about un-becoming everything that isn’t really you, so you can be who you were meant to be in the first place.” I think about this frequently. In fact, I tend to believe it’s true. But by the time I “unbecame” as much as I could, there wasn’t much left but a sentient consciousness. If you spend a lot of time alone, as I do, very little pulls you out of your own head, and if you also live for the moment, nothing stands separately from you that says “hey, I am feeling this” or “hey, I am thinking this.” You just feel. You just think. Of course, things change when you’re visiting with someone. Then you become you, the person that’s different from the person you’re talking to, and it becomes obvious you’re the person who is feeling, saying, thinking, whatever.

Which brings me to the final prompt on my list: “Myths we live by.” Frankly, no matter what we think, we all live by myths. And a lot of those myths tend to become illuminated in political discourse, whether protest or quiet talks. We all see and react to the world based on our own myths of what is right or wrong, what is a hero or villain, what is important or not worth thinking about. I have a hunch this prompt was more for me, to discuss the myths I have created for myself, but it’s been years since I put this on my list of blog prompts, and I have no idea what I intended. Obviously, I didn’t know it back then, either, or I would have written the blog and not put the topic on a list.

Well, that takes care of this blog topic list.

I better start another!

 

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

 

Not a Private Forum

I got an email from a woman who had left an emotionally raw comment on one of my grief posts. She had been hurting and wanted understanding as so many grievers do. But then as the rawness passed, she got on with her life. She googled herself to see what prospective employers would see, and she was shocked that the comment she left here on this blog showed up in search results. She said she thought this was a private forum otherwise she would never have responded to my post. She asked me to remove her comment, which I did.

I didn’t know comments on blogs could show up on search results. This blog is a rather small cubbyhole — pinhole, actually — in the vastness of the internet, so it never occurred to me that comments were searchable. (Especially since, come to think of it, few people leave their names, and those who do usually want to be recognized.) That this blog itself is searchable is all to the good — searching for help with grief is the major reason that people find me.

I only mention this to warn you not to put anything in a comment you don’t want strangers to find. Of course, by now, most of us know that there is no privacy online anymore, if, in fact, there ever was. Knowing this, there are a few things I never post here — my birthday, my house address, my email address, and probably a hundred other things I am so used to keeping private that I don’t remember. Other than those personal privacy issues (I’ve had a few blog stalkers over the years, and I certainly didn’t want any of them showing up at my doorstep!), my life is an open book. Actually, my life being an open book is why I’ve been careful about those privacy issues. I don’t want all the dots to be connected by people I don’t want connecting the dots.

Quite frankly, sometimes it makes me nervous about how much of myself is on here, especially all the things I wrote about during my grief years. As someone once told me shortly after I started telling a truth few wanted to admit, “It’s time to take off the mantle of grief,” but I never did.

So far, when I’ve found myself feeling nervous about any previous posts, I’ve managed not to delete them. And I won’t. But that means, your comments are there, too.

Anyway, I hope this doesn’t deter you from leaving comments. I cherish every response I get.

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

 

Reimagining the Ending of the Wheel of Time

I did it! I figured out the ending of the Wheel of Time, or at least an ending, one that’s more to my satisfaction than the published version. Most readers love the last three books written by a substitute author, but not me. I found them too inconsistent, too many bizarre changes to the characters, too much contradiction to what Jordan had written, too much discontinuity, and too much emphasis on insignificant characters and not enough on important characters. Besides, the whole thing was just so ho hum. The last battle is imminent, but everyone acts as if it will be tomorrow or next month or even next year. They also think it’s their choice when to begin fighting the Dark One, as if the Dark One is just sitting around waiting for them to decide to act.

What truly irritated me was how the substitute author further developed the main hero. This hero went on top of a mountain, ready to kill himself because he thought life and his mission were futile, just as the person he used to be did 3,000 years previously, but instead he had a bit of a revelation — that people were reborn and kept being reborn because it gave them a second chance at love. And because of this rather simplistic realization, the hero (Rand) was suddenly cured of the darkness that the Dark One had been coloring him with, was suddenly cured of his growing madness and became melded with that 3,000 year-old-version of himself that had presented as a voice in his head, and suddenly became what fans of the books call “Jesus Rand.”

Although some Christ-like features can be read into the hero’s character, he was never supposed to be based on the Christian savior, but rather more of a hero like King Arthur (as well as the Fisher King from the King Arthur legends and savior characters from dozens of other myths and legends). But the substitute author seemed to have missed that point completely and overrode the cosmology inherent in the books with his own religious beliefs. Appallingly, when the two personalities of the hero melded, he became a caricature of what a messiah might be. He was so over-the-top perfect that it was creepy, not inspiring. His ancient persona had never been that perfect — in fact, it was reported that he’d been sanctimonious and proud. And the hero in his present persona had become angry, determined, hard, ruthless. So how did those two personalities become so utterly pious when integrated?

Even worse, instead of doing what he was supposed to be doing, preparing himself for the last battle with the dark forces, he wandered the world feeding the hungry, helping the poor, healing the sick (though he himself didn’t heal the sick, he had someone else do it), and rescuing soldiers who had fought themselves into a corner. Under other circumstances it would have been admirable but none of what he did would matter if the world was soon annihilated by dark powers that only he could fight but wasn’t. Still it fit — sort of. Several of the characters feared the hard person he’d become, thinking he should be strong instead of hard, able to laugh and cry as he prepared for the last battle, and so they approved the change.

Worst of all, despite acting so pious, he was still consumed with hubris — not at all a messianic trait — believing he was better than the Creator since the Creator had merely sealed the Dark One away, not destroyed it as the hero intended to do. And oh, yeah. Shortly before going into the battle to save the entire universe, he demolished one of the most powerful magic tools ever made because it was “too powerful to use.” Whatever that means. (Actually, what it means is, as the substitute himself admitted, that he couldn’t figure out how to use it and so got rid of it.)

One part that was supposedly written by Jordan that makes no sense at all, especially coming from someone who’d been a soldier himself, was that even though the hero accepted his death and willingly made the sacrifice, he supposedly left instructions for one of his followers to leave gold and supplies in a tent for him to find when it was all over (though he could have done it himself). But no. Just no. If you’re fighting the last battle, a battle for the entirety of existence, you can’t leave that bit of distraction, that sense that you’re not giving it your all, that perhaps you’re not committed to fighting to the death. If he survives, fine — then get someone to help.

All that is to set the stage for what I suddenly realized today would make a great ending and what actually should have happened besides adding needed conflict.

Forget that whole scene of transformation. Have him go to the last battle as he was, darkness, anger, hardness, madness, and all. In which case, he’d have all sorts of people trying to stop him. His allies who thought that if he fought the Dark One when he was so dark himself, would definitely try to stop him because if he won in that state of mind, it would leave the world worse off than it was. The women power wielders would definitely be against him even more than they already were because they could not control him, and because they believed he’d unloose the Dark One on the world before he could seal him up again and so lose the world to darkness. The misplaced army, the one the dark minions sent after him, would be mobilized against him by the forces of the dark.

Despite that, the hero manages to assemble the forces of light to tell them his terms for fighting the last battle. (To everyone’s horror. So many of them lavished hate on him through eleven books, yet they expected him to willingly sacrifice himself for them!!) After they all sign the peace accords he wanted, the world suddenly grows darker, as if the eternal night is coming, and the forces of the dark descend on them. Although the hero wants to stay and help fight, he knows his confrontation with the dark lies elsewhere. And so he reluctantly heads to the Dark One’s lair. Although he knows it’s his duty, he isn’t sure that he wants to save humanity since they had been set on destroying him.

There is a power vs. power struggle between the hero and the Dark One’s avatar that seems pretty even, but mostly the battle is a philosophical one between Rand and the Dark One rather than actual combat. (As Jordan intended.) So, there he is, almost as dark as the Dark One himself, determined to do his duty, though he’s not sure why. And then comes the battle — dueling scenarios of what the world would be like if the Dark One won and what it would be like if the Dark One was not just sealed away again as the Creator had originally done but instead was utterly destroyed.

After a few of these scenarios (perhaps one that made the hero cry and another that made him laugh) the hero comes to an understanding and acceptance of himself and his fate as the savior of the world. He also realizes the truth — that the Dark One is not a person but a cosmic force. A force of dark to balance the force of light to create the pattern of life that is woven by the wheel of time. Darkness without light is annihilation. But light without darkness is also annihilation. (Think of a blank piece of white paper. It doesn’t signify much of anything, but print black on white, and look what we have!)

So instead of on the mountain, here is where he has his miraculous revelation, the one that brings light to the world the Dark One had all but destroyed. In the vast light that ensues, those physically fighting the dark minions and losing, find the courage and hope and resolve for a final push. So while the hero is winning his own battle, sealing off the Dark One rather than killing it, the humans and the forces of light are also winning their bloody world-wide battle.

I love the irony that the dark force that tried to destroy him would be the very thing that facilitates his transformation, gives him back to himself, and makes him strong enough to do what he needs to do to overcome the Dark One. Gives me shivers! Something the published ending never did, that’s for sure. And it makes sense to me, which is even more important.

Of course, other things happen before, during, and even directly after the last battle as loose ends get tied up and other major characters have their own climactic endings. I’d definitely get rid of the repeated character arc for one of the other two heroes, have them act as the responsible people they’d already become, and make sure all three of the heroes meet up again, something the substitute didn’t do but seems to be a necessary part of bringing things full circle. I’d especially not ignore those characters that were most supportive of the heroes during their travails as the substitute did. But bits such as this are easy enough for me to fit into my interpretation of the ending.

I’ve spent weeks — months! — thinking about this, putting the puzzle together, but now what do I do with all that mental time? I’ve been searching for another all-encompassing project, but so far, haven’t found a series that is even vaguely interesting. I suppose I’ll go back to reading whatever comes to hand, but that idea seems a bit flat.

Oh, I know! I’ll start rereading the Wheel of Time! I must admit, it is a fascinating literary experience to go back and read the first book again after experiencing the huge character arc of the eleven Robert Jordan novels and seeing how far those simple country boys had ended up from their humble beginnings. And then, I’d have to read the second book, and perhaps the third . . .

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

So Turns the Wheel

So here’s something I don’t understand about the publishing decisions for the end of the Wheel of Time.

They chose an author based on a memorial he wrote for Robert Jordan, but that piece was more about how Jordan had been a big influence on him in his own writing career rather than about Jordan’s books. Admittedly, the memorial was a paean to Jordan’s writing and to the saga as a whole, but though he called himself a big fan, he barely knew the books. And he certainly didn’t seem to comprehend the characters or where they were going.

I do understand they wanted a proven author yet one who wasn’t so big that he couldn’t take the time to work on the ending of Jordan’s books, but even so, the writer they chose didn’t have the time to spend rereading the books or going through the notes that had been gathered for him because he had his other deadlines to meet.

Still, a major factor with the Wheel of Time, is that the books and the internet were more or less born at the same time and attracted the same age group. So there were many thousands of people who’d lived with the books their whole lives. While waiting for a new book to be published, they spent millions of words on hundreds of sites discussing the books and their theories of what they thought would happen. Some of these people gave brilliant analyses of the characters and the culture. One fellow in particular, a college student who was majoring in comparative religions, wrote reams of essays and had insights that gave him a major following.

So getting to what I don’t understand — with that amazing resource at their fingertips (literally at their fingertips since they’d be typing on a keyboard), why didn’t they use it?

They could have started discussions asking what loose ends there were in the myriad plots, asking about where they thought the characters should go and what they should do, asking what they’d most like to see at the end, asking about what needed clarification, asking what things that were foreshadowed still needed to happen, asking . . . well, asking just about anything. With all those thousands of people ready to discuss everything to do with the Wheel of Time, there’d be no need for the substitute to reread the books or go through notes that made sense only to Jordan himself. If nothing else, it would have been a good starting place. And the books would actually have been a continuation of Jordan’s story instead of filled with new characters and revamped long-standing characters because the substitute wanted to . . . actually, I don’t know what he wanted to do. Make the books his own, perhaps.

It’s funny that almost no one will criticize any of those last three books. I have no idea why they are so sacrosanct except that maybe people were glad to have any ending. Oddly, the bits of criticism that are let through the barrier of protection are blamed on Jordan, even though the points in question were completely the creation of the substitute author. Also, in one book of Jordan’s, the timeline wasn’t kept straight (the story for each POV character started at the same place, giving the book a feeling of repetition), which he later said he regretted. And so did his fans. They sure dumped on him for that! Yet when the substitute skewed his own timeline in one book so badly that he had a character in two places at once and another who was in a different timeline than the characters he met up with, no one said a single word.

I suppose, in the end it doesn’t matter. No one else cares, obviously. Nor will I once I forget those books completely. As it is now, I feel an itch every time I see something in Jordan’s work that was mangled by the substitute. For example, Jordan explained how one magical machine worked on its own to project a character into scenarios based on the character’s fears, and yet the substitute had people working the machine to create horrific scenarios for the one being tested in the machine. Nothing major. Just itchable.

It’s possible no one could have finished the series properly. The more I see all the foreshadowing that appears in Jordan’s work several books before the foreshadowed event, or find hints of wry humor and ironies that won’t be understood until later, or see minor characters that are threaded throughout the saga, or marvel at the subtleties as well as all that goes on beneath the surface, or understand that something that seemed to be a win for the side of Light was actually a win for the Dark, the more I am astounded by what Jordan was able to keep in his head. I had a hard enough time keeping the 100,000 words in each of my own books straight. (In one case, I had to use a bulletin board and hundreds of tiny pieces of paper each containing a bit of information to figure out the timeline.) I can’t imagine keeping millions of words and thousands of characters and hundreds of plotlines in my head. Nor can I imagine doing all this in a world of my own creation. (Long before I’d ever heard of the Wheel of Time, I considered creating my own fantasy world for a book or series of books, but I gave it up since I have a hard enough time imagining the real world, let alone a fake one.)

His writing technique probably precluded any other author, too, since he was both what is known as a pantster (one who writes by the seat of his pants, who creates and discovers the story as he is writing) and a plotter (one who outlines, who knows the story before he writes).

It amuses me to think we had that in common — that we both had major points we wanted to hit as well as an end to aim for, but the journey to get there wasn’t plotted out. But the rest of it? Keeping all those words and characters and worlds in one’s head? That’s not me, for sure!

Just one more thing for me to puzzle out when it comes to these books — not just what he wrote, but how he wrote.

None of this, of course, helps me with my own writing because I’m pretty sure I don’t have another book in me, nor does it help me to understand . . . much of anything, actually.

Which brings me full circle to the beginning of this article where I mention that there’s something I don’t understand.

And so turns the wheel . . .

***

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

Family, Friends, and a Reason to Celebrate

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.

Deciding Not to Decide

I seldom get past the first chapter of new books anymore. Too many authors eschew the traditional past tense, third-person limited point of view and write in the clunky present tense first person point of view. (Or a mixed bag, which is even worse) Too many try to write in a roundabout style rather than beginning at the beginning and continuing until the end. Then there is a weird undercurrent of . . . nastiness, perhaps, or maybe just uneasiness to most books nowadays. I don’t know if it has to do with the difference in young authors today (and “young” to me includes those who are in their middle years), with the difference in mores, with too much artificial intelligence help, with the difference in the new generation of acquisition editors. Or if it’s just me with my now outdated values. But whatever the reason, I haven’t enjoyed any book written after 2022. And not a lot before then, either.

Because of this, I no longer feel like looking for books at the library. I figure I’d perused those same shelves over 700 times since I’ve been here, and I just couldn’t search them anymore. Too many shelves are full of whole series of books I have no intention of reading —- the entire Patterson oeuvre, all of Stuart Woods’ books, all the popular romance authors, and dozens of others. Too many other shelves are full of books I’ve read or reread.

So I stopped going to the library. I never made the decision not to go, I simply didn’t go, which is weird.

Visiting the library had been a major part of my outside activities ever since I got here to this town. It was such a treat because there hadn’t been a library near where I lived in California, so I went years without reading much. (That doesn’t seem right. Maybe I bought books. I know I bought word puzzles magazines, wrote books, and went through the video tapes Jeff had collected, but it seems odd to think of not be as caught up in reading as I’d always been.)

I’ll finish this current reread of The Wheel of Time, reread the other few books I’ve collected, read the alchemy books inherited from my older brother, maybe read the books I wrote, and then . . . I don’t know. I’ll figure out something to do. I’ll have to — I’ve stopped going online except to blog or play a game for a little while because I simply don’t want to know what is going on anymore. Which leaves me a lot of free time!

It’s funny how different this year is. I used to agonize over any decision, and yet suddenly, here I am — blogging without ever having decided to blog daily, not going to the library without ever having decided to stop, staying away from news without ever having decided to do so. (Staying away from news was my New Year’s resolution, which lasted all of two weeks, and yet now, two months later, I’ve started honoring the resolution again.) Come to think of it, I never decided to do this current reread of The Wheel of Time either. I just did it.

This is a good time to make changes — with spring coming, I’ll be spending more time outside, and with nothing calling me back inside, maybe I’ll enjoy the work this year. (I didn’t last year. It just seemed to be too much trouble.)

Makes me wonder what other things I will start (or stop) doing without ever making a conscious decision. Should be interesting to see what life deals out.

***

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

Nothing to Do With Me

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.

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

A Simple Life

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.

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

Daily Blogging

For years, I blogged every day mostly as a discipline to give form to my days and because I knew that if I ever stopped, I might just let the practice slide away. And the practice did. Slide away, I mean. In January 2023, I still posted every day, and I continued until the middle of February. After that, I posted only sporadically, maybe 25 posts the rest of that year, 7 the following year, and 14 last year. Not very impressive, but then, it wasn’t supposed to be. I simply had nothing to say that I wanted to make public. I’d gradually become sensitive about putting my thoughts out there for anyone to read, so unless I had something innocuous to post, such as pictures of my garden, I kept my thoughts to myself.

Which makes me wonder why all of a sudden this year I’ve found myself blogging again. It wasn’t a conscious decision. I just posted on the first of January, then the second, then . . .

Now here I am, day 53 of daily blogging, though I have no idea why. Can’t even begin to guess. Not that the reason matters. What matters, I suppose, is that I am sitting at my computer. Digging words out of my sluggish brain. Trying to make sense of the world at large.

I originally wrote, “the world around me” and only substituted “the world at large” when I realized that world around me makes sense. I look out the window, and I see that the sky is blue, the grass a dry winter green, the streets empty. I hear clucking from chickens a couple of houses away, tapping now and again from the roofers halfway down the block, and a train in the distance. But it’s mostly quiet. Peaceful. When I close my computer, the only tensions I feel are from the book I’m reading, and most of those come because I’m not engaged in the story at all. (I thought I should get away from the Wheel of Time for a while, but going from the study of a multi-layered epic to reading a simple one-note novel, makes that novel feel even flatter than it really is.)

But this isn’t a post about reading. It’s about writing, finding words in my own head rather than in someone else’s, even if the words I find don’t mean a whole lot. It’s about being able to see something to appreciate in my small life and being able to express my feelings. It’s about being centered on what truly matters to me right now rather than worrying so much about things happening elsewhere that I have no control over.

What I do have control over are my words, and I that, I imagine, more than anything, is what makes this current practice of blogging every day important to me. Though to tell the truth, I’m still not sure I want to make my thoughts public. Luckily for me, my tulips are making themselves known, telling me that gardening season is coming, and soon we can both contemplate something more interesting — watching my garden grow.

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