life | Bertram's Blog

Grief Update

April 11, 2013 — Pat Bertram

I haven’t been posting any grief updates lately because I haven’t had much to tell. There has been no great pain or sorrow, no major traumas or dramas, no new adventures to undertake — just living my every day life of quiet sadness and loneliness.

Although I haven’t had any major grief upsurges for a while, I do often think of my deceased life mate/soul mate, even talk to him. Oddly, now that the agony of grief has mostly subsided, it feels as if he is back at home, waiting for me to finish my present tasks and return to him. I know he isn’t there, of course, but without the pain to simultaneously bind us and separate us, he doesn’t feel quite so gone.

I am still very confused by death. How can he be dead? Where is he? Is he? Perhaps he is waiting for me, perhaps he is simply gone . . . deleted. I won’t know until my life is ended, and perhaps not even then. Whatever exists beyond our cloak of materiality and physicality, beyond our brains and our minds, might have consciousness, or might simply be pure energy that returns to the Everything.

I’ve never known where to put his death in my head. I can’t be glad about it, yet at the same time, he couldn’t have continued to suffer. But more than that, if he is in a better place, why I am still here? And if life is a gift, why was it denied him? I’ve held on to the idea that dying relatively young was unfair to him, that he is missing something, and a lot of my grief was on his behalf, but the other night I realized it truly doesn’t matter whether we are alive or dead. Well, his death matters to me, but it doesn’t matter to the universe, and it probably doesn’t matter to him. Nor does my continued life matter in the vastness of life/death. A few years extra of life is but a dandelion seed in the winds of time. Almost totally matterless. Maybe even meaningless. In which case it truly doesn’t make any difference that I am alive and he is dead. (Well, except for the part where I miss him, but this insight wasn’t about that.)

Even if life is largely matterless and meaningless, I am still alive and at least for now, that does make a difference to me and those I am in contact with. But it’s good knowing I neither have to be glad nor sad for him, that I can continue to live without feeling bad that he is dead. Knowing this also makes it easier to remember him, to recall what we had, to celebrate his place in my life. I am still sad, of course, and maybe I always will be. I miss him, wish desperately for one smile, but gradually I am letting go of my worries for him. He doesn’t need them, and they are an unnecessary relic of our life together. And for all I know, he could be perfectly content, sitting by some cosmic lake, two ghost cats purring in his lap.

Someday, as my grief continues to wane, I might even get to the point where I find renewed life, but I still take comfort where I can find it, and for now I take comfort in thinking that life and death are somehow one.

***

Pat Bertram is the author of the suspense novels Light Bringer, More Deaths Than One, A Spark of Heavenly Fire, and Daughter Am I. Bertram is also the author of Grief: The Great Yearning, “an exquisite book, wrenching to read, and at the same time full of profound truths.” All Bertram’s books are published by Second Wind Publishing. Connect with Pat on Google+

Posted in culture, grief, life. Tags: confused by death, dealing with grief, death, death of a soul mate, grief and loss, life and death, meaning of life and death. 9 Comments »

Fight Scenes and Motivations by David Lucas

April 7, 2013 — Pat Bertram

The internet truly is an egalitarian place. Where else would I be able to meet someone like David Alan Lucas, a writer, poet and martial artist who is an expert in the arts of physical and psychological combat?

David belongs to my Suspense/Thriller Writers’ group on Facebook, and he has been discussing fight techniques with the group. I asked if I could post part of his discourse, and he kindly said yes. Thank, you, David!

Fight Scenes and Motivations by David Lucas

This might be a bit of a ramble, but let’s talk about fight scenes. We all have our areas of expertise. Do you ever feel thrown out of a story or movie when “they” get it wrong? I know I do. I have closed those books and never picked it up again. If I go to a movie by myself, I will walk out of it. When I am with others, they can usually tell from my facial expression that I am biting my tongue. (I’m polite and don’t ruin it for them—there is always the after movie drive to talk about it.)

Besides being a writer, I am a fighter. I am a 3rd degree Black Belt in a Black Art (Black=War Art instead of a sport style). I have been in more hand to hand (or bare hand vs armed) fights than I even want to contemplate. Fight scenes are hard to write, even for me. But when someone gets it wrong I shake my head. But when they get it right, I want to jump up and dance (I almost did that when the 2009 Sherlock Holmes came out and they actually got into the Holmes’ head as he planned the fight before it began).

As a result of being a fighter and a writer, I have been writing about fight scenes and have given a few seminars. While I would imagine there is a book on how to write a fight scene, I haven’t seen it. So, I am going to tear apart the process as best as I can over the several months. Before I begin to outline it, let me be very clear: Writing is an art. Martial Arts is an art. There is no one way to do anything. Take from this what works for you, knowing that, like all writers and marital artists, we all walk our own path.

The first thing I do with writing a fight scene is to understand who is involved. When people fight in real life, everyone has a set of skills, a way they think, and a motive to be in the fight. Let’s work this backwards and start with motive. Why does your character want to fight?

Let’s face a few facts about fights. On film they can look exciting. But the truth is that in every fight (even among friends) there is a risk—even if it by accident—that you can lose your life. Let me use a real life example.

Have you ever been there when someone yells, “Fight! Fight! Fight!” People gather around cheering it on. They are stupid. No I am not holding back punches. Here is the true story that happened in one such case and why I called them stupid. One of the fighters in such a case—it was at a bar—took a glass bottle and broke it. He swung wildly at his opponent. His wild swings cut the throat of a guy I knew in the crowd who had stupidly thought he was going to see a fight. His funeral was a few days later.

All fights are dangerous—being in one, seeing one, etc. It doesn’t matter if it is in a ring where people are trying to be sure that no one is harmed in the long run or on a battlefield somewhere—and they are painful. What were the two drunks I talked about above fighting over and what had been worth so much for someone to die?

Someone can be beaten to a proverbial pulp or lose their lives over trivial issues–like a pair of shoes, a spilled drink, or (as a guy I once knew discovered) looking at someone’s girlfriend the wrong way. In St. Louis, Missouri a game among teens has developed where they go up to complete strangers and try to knock them out. Fights can start over imagined slights, being drunk, forced to protect yourself or a loved one, property and so forth.

Why is your character willing to fight?

Before you decide to turn your character into a super hero or the next Jet Li, let me break down the motivation a bit. There was a story my Master Instructor once told me that I have never forgotten.

A man, who was studying Martial Arts and had grown so confident that he felt like he was bullet proof, was once asked what he would be willing to fight for. He was asked, “If ten men were leaning on your car and causing trouble, would you fight them?”

He replied with confidence, “Of course I would beat the . . .” You can fill in the words.

His instructor then asked, “What if they all had chains and baseball bats and you were unarmed?”

The student thought about it and agreed he would not fight them.

The instructor then asked one final question, “Take these same men, armed the same way, and now they are raping your wife. Would you fight them?”

His answer changed.

The circumstances in real life and in our fiction writing are what will determine if someone will be willing to risk their lives in a fight. What are you willing to fight for and lose your life over? If you answer that quickly, I personally ask–plead with you–to think about it a little more. What is your character willing to fight for? What is their line in the sand?

How do they fight? More importantly, how do they think about fighting?

If you have questions about writing fight scenes or about how various characters might act in a fight, please feel free to ask. I will do my best to answer your question. Your question’s response may even lead to a blog entry in my blog relaunch on The Writer’s Lens.

David Lucas’s blogs: http://davidalanlucas.blogspot.com/ and http://www.thewriterslens.com/

David Lucas’s website: http://www.davidalanlucas.com/

David Lucas on Twitter: http://twitter.com/Owlkenpowriter

Posted in culture, How to, life, writing. Tags: David Lucas, fight scenes, fighter and writer, motivtions for fighting, Suspense/Thriller Writers Group on Facebook. 3 Comments »

Is There Life Without the Internet?

April 6, 2013 — Pat Bertram

I spent most of yesterday updating my virus protection software. For some reason known only to the computer gods and gurus, simple tasks that should be done in a matter of minutes take hours upon hours. I ended up downloading the program and removing it twice, talking to several different billing and tech people (and some I’m not even sure work for the company — if you google “Trend Micro contact”, you get all sorts of phone numbers, only some of which go the to actual company.) And because they couldn’t simply credit my account with a refund and use that money for the second download I had to pay twice (though they did promise a refund for one of the downloads. Wink. Wink.).

Although I could write a whole post (perhaps even an amusing one) about my experiences with the update, mentioning it is by way of a prologue. I’ve used Trend Micro from the beginning, and it’s been good protection, so I’ve been sticking with them, but yesterday, halfway through the process, I told them I was so unhappy with their service, I was ready to throw away my computer. For just a second, I meant it, and I felt free. And then the truth hit me.

untiled My life is almost all online. Sure, I could take walks, but who would I tell about my insights? I could write my thoughts, but who would read them? Who would talk to me about Is Introspection Possible? and What Is Luck?, my Soul’s Journey and Living Light and Free? This blog has seen me through some terrible times in my life, and some good ones. It was here that I first announced I’d found a publisher, first promoted my books, first talked about the agony of my grief, had my first inklings that there might someday be happiness for me again. I cannot imagine my life without it. But this is not the only thing I’d have forego.

Without the internet, I’d have no life as an author. I could still write books, but who would talk to me about them? I could perhaps still check with bookstore owners and see if I can do book signings, but what if I wanted to publish another book? Book files are all digital now. How would I get the manuscript digitalized so I could send to my publisher?

There is too much of my life I’d have to do without. I have friends in the real world, which is nice, but I also have friends in the cyber world — people from all around the world — that I’d never get to talk to or email again. I’d never get to check in Facebook again. Well, maybe that wouldn’t be such a loss, but still, it is a part of the online experience, and I’d miss all the people I’ve friended and those I haven’t yet met.

And Rubicon Ranch — the collaboration/serialization I’m writing with other Second Wind authors — I’d have to give up on that, too, just when all the authors are learning to have fun with it and run with it.

Every day online offers the possibility of something wonderful happening. So, after my whole online life flashed before my eyes along with the vision of what my life would be like without the internet, I girded my loins, gritted my teeth, stepped once more into the fray, (feel free to add whatever other clichés you wish), and finally got the job done. Now I just have to wait to see if they follow through on their side with the refund.

Either way, I’ll still be here.

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Posted in blogging, culture, internet, life. Tags: cyber friends, cyberspace, internet, online experience, online life, virus protection. 13 Comments »

Grieving for the Dead

April 4, 2013 — Pat Bertram

The conventional wisdom is that we grieve for ourselves, not the person who died, but as with any other idea most people have about grief, it is only partly true. When it comes to a soul mate, we often grieve for him as much as we grieve for ourselves. During our shared time, we cared as much about him, his well-being, his happiness as we did about our own, and that caring does not stop with death.

Many people still feel their soul mate’s presence, sometimes in a beneficial way, as a blessing or as a helping hand, but others feel their mate’s unhappiness. One woman, whose husband spend his last months connected to gastric tubes and other painful devices, continued to feel his anger long after he died. He’d been furious with her for agreeing to procedures that prolonged his suffering, and she was ridden with guilt because of it. (Though what other decisions about his care could she have made? He could not talk, and the doctors assured her he would get better if they performed those operations.) For more than a year after his death, she could still feel waves of anger directed at her. Perhaps the anger was a symptom of her guilt, but perhaps part of him still harbored those feelings. We hope our loved ones are at peace, but what if they’re not?

One of the great agonies of losing one’s soul mate is not knowing where he is, how he is, if he is. I found comfort in believing that my life mate/soul mate wasn’t suffering any more, that he, at least, wasn’t having to deal with the pain of our disconnect, but then one day it struck me that I didn’t know that for sure. Since I had no sense of his continued presence in my life, I had no conception of what he might be experiencing. What if he were feeling just as lost and lonely and bereft as I was?

I had to put such thoughts out of my head because I truly could not bear to think of him in pain. I was still grieving for all the suffering to which he’d been subject during his final days, weeks, months, still grieving for his hopes that never came to fruition, still grieving for the dreams that died with him. Perhaps it was silly of me to grieve for him, since it’s entirely possible he wasn’t grieving for himself, but still, those thoughts were there, complicating my grief.

It’s been a few days more than three years since he died, and sometime during those grief-filled months, I began to disconnect from him, to understand that whatever relationship we had, however much we shared, no matter how much it felt as if we were cosmic twins, we were still two separate people on two separate journeys. This is an important realization and a necessary step to mental health and eventual happiness, but the habit of thinking of him is still strong, and I wonder where he is, how he is, if he is.

I hope he is happy, fulfilled, challenged, radiant. I wish those things for myself, and I can wish no less for him.

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Posted in culture, grief, life, relationships. Tags: death of a soul mate, do the dead feel grief, grief and loss, grief and love, grieving for the dead. Leave a Comment »

Is Introspection Possible?

April 3, 2013 — Pat Bertram

You learn something new every day, or at least that’s what the cliché would have us believe, and today I learned that I should be more careful about choosing words. A few days ago on Facebook, I posted an affirmation/resolution, saying: Today I will be . . . introspective.

mind A friend sent me an email in response: I was about to make a comment on introspection but hesitated when I remembered a “strange” entry about the topic in the “Oxford Companion to the Mind.” They had a short paragraph that began by judging the entire psychological technique of introspection as being in danger of misinterpretation. They then stated “It has, however, become clear that very little that goes on in the brain associated with the mind is accessible to conscious introspection, and “we” regard the mind as a much broader concept than awareness, consciousness, or what is known by introspection” (Pg. 389). Was the “we” the editors? Isn’t that odd that they would sidestep something that I think of as quite positive and I’m certain you do as well.

Huh? I was under the impression that introspection was a synonym for contemplation or reflection, so I emailed her back: Fascinating. I thought a bit of introspection was a good thing. Don’t be surprised if a blog post on this topic shows up. I do most of my “introspecting” via blog, and this certainly needs a bit of thought.

Today I finally got a chance to research the word, and it turns out that introspection is a particular type of contemplation — the contemplation of one’s own thoughts.

According to the Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy, introspection “is generally regarded as a process by means of which we learn about our own currently ongoing, or very recently past, mental states or processes.” To be classified as introspection, thoughts need to meet three conditions:

1. The mentality condition: Introspection is a process that generates, or is aimed at generating, knowledge, judgments, or beliefs about mental events, states, or processes, and not about affairs outside one’s mind.

2. The first-person condition: Introspection is a process that generates, or is aimed at generating, knowledge, judgments, or beliefs about one’s own mind only and no one else’s, at least not directly.

3. The temporal proximity condition: Introspection is a process that generates knowledge, beliefs, or judgments about one’s currently ongoing mental life only; or, alternatively (or perhaps in addition) immediately past (or even future) mental life.

In other words, (at least I think these are other words that explain the situation), to be introspective, you must be thinking about your current thoughts. Some people, however, debate if this is even possible. Can the brain know itself? Can the mind know itself? Which brings us back to the email from my friend. Apparently (at least according to the Oxford folks), very little that goes on in the mind is accessible to conscious introspection.

Confusing the issue of whether introspection is possible, there is something called an introspection illusion, where we tend to believe we have direct insights into the origins of our thoughts, but treat everyone else’s insights as unreliable, so everything we do or think is biased in our own favor.

Introspection might seem impossible to scientists who need non-biased input, but on a personal level, introspection is possible — those of us with a contemplative bent do pay attention to how we think, but to be honest, from now on, I’m going to sidestep the whole issue and simply use the term “reflection.” That would cover everything — thoughts about my thoughts and thoughts about everything else. And who knows — maybe someday I’ll even bypass reflection and go straight to awareness.

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Posted in culture, life, writing. Tags: choosing words, conditions of introspection, introspection, introspection illusion, is introspection possible, reflection vs. introspection. 8 Comments »

Designated Daughter

April 2, 2013 — Pat Bertram

The problem with having a star-studded weekend is that resuming real life can be difficult. Sunday evening, on the way back from the airport, I found myself dreading the return to my life. It’s not that I would have wanted to keep up the frantic pace of wonderful waterside seafood restaurants, Ferris wheels, merry-go-rounds, limousines, champagne, and fabulous shows, but that until I was away from it for a while, I hadn’t realized how depressing my current living situation is. (I am the “designated daughter,” looking after my 96-year-old father.)

Dad and me

When I came here three years ago to be with my father, he was still mostly strong and vital, which gave me the opportunity I needed to grieve for my deceased life mate/soul mate without having to deal with the minutiae of daily life or my father’s medical condition, but this changed as my father declined. And now, I’m back where I was for so many years, keeping vigil while someone close to me struggles to live (or die. Sometimes I’m not sure which is harder for them.)

My father is doing well (he even insisted I leave him by himself while I was gone instead of getting someone to stay with him) but still, he is suffering from congestive heart failure, and it’s hard watching someone decline, especially when it’s someone you have a complicated relationship with. He vacillates from being the authoritative father when he is well to needy child when he isn’t, which makes a complicated situation even more problematic. And for the most part, I am his main contact with the outside world, which at times adds an additional burden.

I thought I was doing okay, accepting this new direction in my life, but now I see that this situation only adds to my sorrow. But it is what it is, and there’s not much I — or anyone else — can do to change things, though life itself will eventually make the change for me. Until then, I’ll muddle through the best I can, and try not to give in to depression.

***

Posted in being me, culture, life, relationships. Tags: caring for elderly parents, caring for father, congestive heart failure, designated daughter, father and daughter. 3 Comments »

My Star-Studded Weekend

April 1, 2013 — Pat Bertram

I had a phenomenal time in Seattle this weekend. And such gorgeous weather! (I don’t know whether the bluest skies are in Seattle, but they sure were blue when I was there.)

Today I woke feeling like Cinderella after the ball. What? No more champagne? No more limousine? No more Shen Yun? No more ferris wheels and fish feasts? Ah, but I have something Cinderella never had . . . photos!!

It truly was a star-studded weekend.

And the star was . . . me! Here I am decked out in sparkles and party eyes, ready to go to Shen Yun.

But wait! I have to tell you about the first day. My sister and brother-in-law met me right outside the secure area at the airport, then took me to a restaurant on the Puget Sound waterfront where we feasted on crab, shrimp, mussels, corn, sausage, potatoes, and probably a few other things.

Next, we rode a ferris wheel on the pier . . .

and could see . . . well, not exactly forever, but almost.

To keep with the theme of going round and round, we went on a carousel at a nearby arcade. This was my trusty steed.

Before we left the waterfront, we stopped by Pikes Place Market. It was late, and most vendors had packed up, but the flower sellers were still there. Flowers, flowers, everywhere.

The next day, we had a liesurely breakfast (a strata prepared by a professonal chef — my brother-in-law!) then dressed in our finery and waited for the limo my sister hired to take us to see Shen Yun. Often during this past trying year, I’ve found comfort telling myself that I am where I am supposed to be. This little affirmation takes on a whole new meaning when one is driving around in a limousine drinking champagne!

And Shen Yun, the whole point of this excursion? I was afraid that after that first wonderful day of playing in the sun, the show would be anticlimactic, but it was fantastic. Truly a delight for the eyes and the ears. As the program explained, Shen means “divine” and Yun refers to a dancer’s style and the meaning behind his or her movements, so Shen Yun is about “the grace, compassion, and sublime beauty of heavenly realms that are shown through the subtlest expessions and gestures of the dancers.” Truly an experience.

After the show, we went to a fancy restaurant right on the water. (I had Pacific Northwest Chowder and Dungeness Crab Cakes.) While enjoying a touch of desert (lemon semifreddo) we watched the sun set on a perfect day.

There were many gifts and blessings arising from this weekend, including a closer connection to my sister (and brother-in-law), a realization that yes, someday I can be happy again, and the crowning glory of the stay — a new chapeau.

***

Posted in being me, culture, life, photography. Tags: bluest skies are in Seattle, chapeau, Cinderella after the ball, gifts and blessings, party-eyes, Seattle, Shen Yun. 16 Comments »

I Hope Your Day Is as Thrilling as Mine!

March 30, 2013 — Pat Bertram

If you are expecting a commentary on life (or at least my life), I’m sorry but that isn’t going to happen. Today I am on an adventure, my Pat Bertram “Appreciation Weekend” Extravaganza, traveling by limousine to McCaw Hall in Seattle to see Shen Yun, which bills itself as “…Bringing to life 5,000 years of Chinese civilization through classical Chinese dance and music in an exhilarating show you will never forget.”

I’ve wanted to see this performance ever since I saw the first ad and peaked at the first video trailer. And now I am there! Hope your day is every bit as thrilling as mine is.

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Posted in culture, life. Tags: “Appreciation Weekend” Extravaganza, limousine, McCaw Hall, Pat Bertram, Seattle Center. 4 Comments »

Roseanne Barr, Margaret Cho, and Me

March 29, 2013 — Pat Bertram

Here is something I never thought I’d see — my name in an article with Roseanne Barr’s. Who would ever have ever thought we had anything in common?(Click on this link for the article: Roseanne Barr, Sandra Fluke, Margaret Cho & Folks Around The World, Join To ‘Unite Against Rape’ My name is in the paragraph below Margaret Cho’s photo.)

When I thanked the woman who got me listed in the story as one of the A-listers, she responded: “You’re welcome. 🙂 Happy to do it! Any time I can promote someone who deserves it, I try to do so! And you, my friend, are very deserving.”

It was very sweet of her to say so, but the truth is, what’s really deserving is the cause. We should all be united against rape. It’s an unwarranted violence against girls and women (against boys and men, too, for that matter), and it has no place in the world of today. Nor should being a victim of rape carry any stigma. We’re better than that.

If you would like to join Roseanne Barr, Margaret Cho, and me in this campaign, you only need to send a photo and brief statement (“I stand united against rape because…”) to: unitewomenawareness@gmail.com or visit: UniteWomen.org: (www.facebook/UniteWomen)

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Posted in culture, internet, life. Tags: Margaret Cho, Roseanne Barr, Unite Against Rape, UnitedWomen, UnitedWomen.org. 3 Comments »

Facing My New Year With Courage and Wisdom

March 28, 2013 — Pat Bertram

Yesterday was the third anniversary of my life mate/soul mate’s death. It turned out to be a nice day, and only intermittently sad. One of my fellow bereft sent me an email, “Is it wrong to wish that it’s just another day for you? Maybe it is, but I hope that you can acknowledge it with a nod and then let the day become like any other. We can’t make shrines out of these anniversaries. I’m weary of worshiping a ghost. I’m trying very hard to listen to this advice as I prepare my own countdown.”

Her message was exactly right, and I hoped for the same thing, that I could acknowledge the anniversary with a nod and then let the day become like any other. It’s important for me to remember him, but instead of remembering the horror and sadness of his death, I would rather remember that I loved him, that he was a special man, that he lived — and died — courageously.

The day turned out to be not just a day like any other, but better — a day of peace and friendship, a day apart from my daily responsibilities and cares.

I’d planned to go to lunch with friends I met through my grief group, but at the last minute, I almost reneged. I was teetering on the brink of sadness, and wasn’t sure if I could handle being around so many people, but I donned my “glad rags” (black hat I’d decorated with red poppies and matching red shirt and black slacks) and kept the appointment. Whether it was the silliness of the hat or the power of the black and red clothes, I felt uplifted and was able to enjoy the lunch. Since it was more to celebrate another woman’s birthday, we only gave a passing nod to my anniversary, which was good — I didn’t want to dwell too much on missing him. Afterward, one of these friends went walking with me in the desert, which was especially nice. I got to see the desert through her eyes, and I got to show her my “back yard.”

Today I start a new year. (In many respects, this is more of a birthday for me than the anniversary of my birth because after he died, I was born into a new life.) I’m not sure what I hope from this year. Peace, of course, but perhaps also adventure and challenge. (Sounds oxymoronic, doesn’t it?) But mostly, I want to accept whatever comes with the same courage and wisdom that helped me face the past three years.

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