Bertram's Blog

I’m going to Blog for Peace. Will You?

October 28, 2013 — Pat Bertram

On Monday, November 4, people all over the planet blog for peace. This year, I’m going to join the the Blog Blast for Peace, and you can join the movement, too. You make your own peace globe/statement or simply choose one pre-made at http://blogblastforpeace.com, and become – a peace blogger.

Peace bloggers believe that words are powerful, and that this event matters.

So, check out the above website or check out on Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/BlogBlastForPeace .

How To Blog For Peace The short version:

1. Choose a graphic from the peace globe gallery http://peaceglobegallery.blogspot.com/p/get-your-own-peace-globe.html or from the photos on Facebook https://www.facebook.com/BlogBlastForPeace#!/BlogBlastForPeace/app_153284594738391 Right click and Save. Decorate it and sign it, or leave as is.

2. Send the finished globe to blogblast4peace@yahoo.com

3. Post it anywhere online November 4 and title your post Dona Nobis Pacem (Latin for Grant us Peace)

Sounds cool, doesn’t it? See you on November 4!

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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.” Connect with Pat on Google+. Like Pat on Facebook.

Posted in blogging, culture, How to, internet. Tags: Blog 4 peace, blog blast for peace, November 4, Peace Bloggers. 1 Comment »

And So Grief Goes . . .

October 27, 2013 — Pat Bertram

When you lose a soul mate or any person who connects you to the world in a significant way, you are born into the world of grief. At first, like any infant, you count your age in days, then weeks, and finally months and years.

I am long past counting the days and weeks since the death of my life mate/soul mate, though I can figure it out. (In case you’re curious, I calculated that it’s been 1,310 days or 187 weeks.) I’m even past counting the months. Today is an anniversary of his death, but without stopping to figure it out, all I know is that it’s been more than three and a half years but less than four.

This is a significant development. People who have never had to deal with the death of such an important person in their lives were spooked by my counting the days for so long, thinking I was unhealthily obsessed with the past, but that wasn’t the case at all. The days were milestones, ways of proving to myself that I could get through my grief one day at a time. And I have mostly gone through it. The horrendous pain, angst, and confusion of those first months isn’t even a memory. I can’t imagine anymore what I went through, can’t imagine how anyone could go through such a series of losses and come out the other end stronger and able to face whatever traumas life has in store. (In my case, not only did I lose my life mate/soul mate, I lost shared hopes and dreams, my most devoted fan, my best friend, and my home.)

When I talk about my grief, people assume I mean I still mourn him. To me, grief is the process, the whole spectrum of grief-related advancements including healing and rebuilding one’s life. The spectrum flows from the deepest black of despair to the brightest white of joy. Mourning is the sadness, the tears, the screams, the soul-deep pain — the physical manifestation of grief. I am long past the soul-deep pain, but I am still a long way from joy, so although I seldom mourn him any more, I still consider myself a child of grief.

Someday, that too will pass. Grief has taught me what we already know: things change. I never thought I’d laugh again, never thought I could live again. And yet here I am, all these months later, laughing and enjoying myself on occasion. I never thought I could forget him, and yet he is not always on my mind. For so long, I couldn’t bear the thought of settling down anywhere when I leave here (I am temporarily staying with my 96-year-old father, looking after him so he can be as independent as possible). All I wanted was to keep on the move. Travel See what life has to offer. I still think of leading such a spontaneous and unsettled life, but I am also weighing the possibility of settling down. I used to fear stagnation, but I am surer of myself and my solitary place in the world, and I doubt I would stagnate. I would do . . . something.

And so grief goes . . .

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Posted in culture, grief, life. Tags: anniversary of death, counting the days of grief, death of a soul mate, grief, grief at three years, grief vs mourning. 4 Comments »

Only Human?

October 26, 2013 — Pat Bertram

At least three times in the past few days, people have reminded me that we’re only human, and each time I could feel myself sliding down our evolutionary tree until my knuckles were dragging on the ground.

(Interestingly, that fall isn’t as far as it once was. Recent finds have shown that what scientists once assumed were three different species have been identified as normal variations in the physical features of a single species. But we lay folk already knew that, didn’t we? It’s only common sense that not every member of a species has exactly the same physicality. The shortest living person measures 21.5 inches. The tallest measures 101 inches. I’m sure craniums also have big discrepancies, as do bones and bone density.)

Saying that “we’re only human” masks the truth of us, and believing it allows us to accept the basest part of our natures without feeling the need to aspire to anything more. Sure, we’re human, but we’re also divine, or at least have a glimmer of divinity in us. Even those who don’t believe in God believe we are sparked by something eternal — an energy that can neither be created nor destroyed.

We were born with god-like powers:

The power to interact with the world around us, to become part of the fabric of creation. (Life flows through us, the air becomes part of us, the very earth itself enters our body by way of the food we eat. We are creatures made of stardust.)

The power to participate in creation by way of procreation, making art, writing, living the life only we can lead.

The power to love, to laugh, to sing, to dance, to feel grief and joy, to be compassionate, to forgive.

The power to grow, to transcend who we are and become more of what we were meant to be.

Rob McNamara wrote, “Life will not let you divide the sacred and the mundane. You cannot separate the unsubstantial from the significant for they are married to a union fundamental to the very fabric of existence.”

Yet saying we are only human divorces us from the sacred and leaves the mundane. Why should we aspire to so little?

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Posted in culture, life. Tags: aspiring to be more than human, god-like powers, human vs divine, only human, sacred and mundane, we are only human. 1 Comment »

Elegant English

October 25, 2013 — Pat Bertram

In The Dimwit’s Dictionary, Robert Hartwell Fiske describes elegant English as that which is “expressed with music as well as meaning, with style as well as substance.” He goes on to say that “It is time we aspire to becoming who we were meant to be. It is time to aspire to expressing ourselves well. Elegant English is grammatically correct English, it is uncommon or forgotten English. In all instances, elegant English is English rarely hear, English seldom spoken.”

Everyday English uses such constructions as “It is me,” “okay,” “the fact that,” “I don’t think so.” The corresponding elegant constructions are “It is I,” “as you wish,” “that,” and “I think not.” Everyday English commonly uses “how come?” where elegant English uses “how is it that?”

Even though I don’t like what Fiske calls “quack equations,” I still find myself using them on occasion. Quack equation are expressions such as “a deal is a deal,” “a rule is a rule,” “what’s right is right.” He says such quack equations “readily explain behavior that the dimwitted otherwise find inexplicable, and justify attitudes they otherwise find unjustifiable.”

Occasionally such phrases are inescapable. They are a way of acknowledging that some events are inexplicable, for example: it is what it is. No matter how we try to find the meaning in inexplicable happenings, sometimes the meaning eludes us. Sometimes there is no explanation besides “it is what it is.”

(I have a hunch he would have despaired at the definitions of elegant and elegance in my dictionary. Elegant is defined as “marked by elegance,” and elegance is defined as “something that is elegant.”)

He also rails against plebian sentiments such as “a little knowledge is a dangerous thing,” “I just work here,” “that’s life,” or “you think too much.” “That’s nice” is particularly plebian because it is used to dismiss what a person has said, though it suggests interest. He asserts that plebian sentiments reflect the views and values of the least thoughtful among us, that they blunt our understanding and quash our creativity, and “actually shield us from our thoughts and feelings, from any profound sense of ourselves. People who use these expressions have not become who they were meant to be.”

I consider myself well spoken. I don’t use a lot of colloquialisms or bad grammar, but even I have found my English slipping way past elegant into banal. In my case, it started out as protective coloring. I had a big vocabulary when I was young, though I didn’t always know how to pronounce the words. (I still remember the laughter that greeted me many years ago when I said something was mackaber instead of macabre.) But still, if I wish to lead a more elegant life, and aspire to be who I am meant to be, I should relearn how to speak (and write) more elegantly.

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Posted in How to, writing. Tags: elegant English, everyday English, everyday English vs. elegant English, it is what it is, quack equations, Robert Hartwell Fiske, The Dimwit’s Dictionary. Leave a Comment »

Leading an Elegant Life

October 24, 2013 — Pat Bertram

Elegance. Such an elegant word, evoking images of times gone by, when clothes gracefully draped the human form, and people wrote with stylish hands.

Several times lately, I’ve stumbled across the word elegant in reference to both language and living, and I’ve become enamored with the idea of leading an elegant life. When people speak of elegance, they generally refer to things — the materiality of life — such as elegant dress or elegant furnishings, but what does that have to do with life itself?

According to my dictionary, elegance means pleasingly graceful; excellent, splendid. According to Wikipedia, elegance is a synonym for beautiful that has come to acquire the additional connotations of unusual effectiveness, simplicity and focusing on essential features.

So an elegant life would be a life of grace, excellence, effectiveness, and simplicity. Finding the essence of life and paring away that which is cumbersome, unattractive, or unnecessary. Overcoming the limits we have set for ourselves (or that others have set for us). Dreaming of becoming more of who we are.

Sounds lovely, doesn’t it?

During these past years as I’ve struggled to find a way through grief after the death of my life mate/soul mate, I’ve often talked about wanting more, though I have never quite known what I meant by “more.” Well, I still don’t know the specifics of what I mean, but at least I have a better way to describe what I want — an elegant life.

I have a hunch aspiring to lead an elegant life is not an easy task, but beauty and elegance never come without a price.

And it just so happens I have the rest of my life to spend on the pursuit of elegance.

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Posted in being me, culture, life. Tags: an elegant life, dreaming of becoming more, meaning of elegant life, pursuit of elegance, wanting more out of life. 2 Comments »

Life After the Death of a Soul Mate

October 23, 2013 — Pat Bertram

What I love most about blogging is that sometimes when I start writing a post, new or buried thoughts percolate to the surface, ending up on the page and surprising me with insights. Yesterday, when I wrote Living Offline, I had no idea I was starting to look forward to the rest of my life. I’ve kept my head down, plodding along, trying new things, meeting new people, visiting new places, and apparently, somewhere along the line, I went through a renewal of sorts.

Many people who had gone through a grievous loss have told me that it takes three to five years to find a renewed interest in life, and so it is with me. In just a few days, it will be three years and seven months since the death of my life mate/soul mate, and I find myself involved deeply in life, not just with such difficult matters as looking out for my 96-year-old father and dealing with problematic family members, but also with taking care of myself and my well-being.

I’m physically active, eat right, and have accidentally become part of an intelligent and talented coterie. I say “accidentally” because when I joined a group of walkers, I didn’t expect to end up going to art shows that feature members’ work, hearing one member in a choir of madrigal singers, and seeing others dance. Because of these people, I’ve also learned not to fear old age. Although people of all ages walk with us, some of the most active members could be considered elderly, but I can barely keep up with those in their seventies. I have no idea what life has is in store for me, of course, but I do know that getting older doesn’t necessarily mean getting feeble. It just takes a bit of luck and a lot of physical activity and mental stimulation.

Grief goes in cycles, so chances are I will still be experiencing occasional grief surges (especially on the weekends when I can’t feast on the endorphins and friendship of the group walk), but now I know the truth: there is life after the death of the person who connected you to the world. There is even laughter. Maybe even joy.

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Posted in blogging, life, relationships, writing. Tags: finding happiness, grief cycles, life after grief, life after the death of a spouse, walking. 4 Comments »

Living Offline

October 22, 2013 — Pat Bertram

I seem to have more of an offline life lately than I do online, which is a throwback for me. I didn’t get a computer or get on the internet until 2007, but they came at a time of upheaval in my life (my mother was dying and my life mate/soul mate was declining) and they proved to be lifesavers. Well, mindsavers. I needed something to occupy my mind to keep from giving in to foolish worry (foolish because there was nothing I could do about either situation except to be available when needed), and learning has always been my forte. So I learned what I could about using computers, navigating the internet, blogging, social networking, and everything else that goes to making up an online life.

Originally, I was gifted with a year of the internet, and after checking out libraries and finding other interesting sites such as the Internet Movie Database, I wondered how I could possibly use this unexpected gift. I figured that by the end of that first year, either I would find something to do, or I would get rid of it.

It didn’t even take a year, just a few months. Not only did I find something to do, I found a life, excitement, friends, even love of a sort. (I loved blogging from the first time I posted an article and understood what blogging was all about.) I also found support and encouragement. I don’t know how I would have dealt with the death of my life mate/soul mate if it weren’t for the bereft I met because of opening myself to the blogosphere.

Now, almost three and a half years after his death, I’m looking around my offline world, and I’m finding life, excitement, friends, even love of a sort. (I love walking with the local Sierra Club.) I no longer seem to need the screen of a computer to filter the worst of my worry or pain. I see the world through the excited eyes of child rather than the angst-ridden eyes of a bereft and lonely woman.

Parts of my offline life are hard, of course. I’m looking out for my 96-year-old father, dealing with problematic family members, and experiencing occasional upsurges of grief, but what isn’t hard is easy. Fun, even.

Instead of fearing the rest of my life alone, now I’m looking forward to seeing what I will make of myself.

***

(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.”) Connect with Pat on Google+. Like Pat on Facebook.

Posted in blogging, internet, life. Tags: elderly father, escape from the internet, life after grief, life offline, life online, living alone. 5 Comments »

It’s In the Cards

October 21, 2013 — Pat Bertram

This is going to be a tough weekend for me, a convergence of people and events and influences from the past that I would just as soon not cope with. I wanted to run away but couldn’t find anywhere to run (except for a long solitary hike in the desert), and anyway, the situation has to be dealt with.

Normally, I don’t put much faith in prognostications, but since I’ve been nervous about how I will handle the situation, I asked my sister to do a Tarot reading for me. (Strange, until recently, I didn’t even know she knew how to do a reading.)

Apparently, the cards say that I’m going to be fine. They say I have the strength and courage to do this, it’s something that needs to happen, and I have the skills and abilities to handle it. I hadn’t expected to feel anything but a vague amusement at the ways of the cards, but instead I felt relieved by the assurance that I’ll be able to handle what is coming. (I knew it anyway. I just got nervous.)

One odd thing — apparently, this weekend I will see myself as working with others, yet others will see me as being on a solitary quest. Something to think about.

If you’re interested, this is the layout of the cards, which seems to accurately describe the situation, my hopes and fears for the outcome. If you find a different, more disturbing meaning, I don’t want to know!

Celtic cross spread:

Card 1: The card in this position represents you. (VII Chariot): In control, confident, connected to the power of the world. Able to triumph over obstacles, achieve victory by focusing intent and will. Self-assured, assuming reins of power.

Card 2: The card in this position is about what the conflict is. (XV The Devil): This card is about losing independence, becoming enslaved, having limited options, feeling desolate, but choosing to stay in the dark. Needing to break free.

Card 3: This card represents the foundation or basis of the situation. (Ace of Wands): Having grounded energy and enough self-assurance to rise to the occasion; accept this as an opportunity, a challenge. The spark has been lit!

Card 4: Influences of the past affecting the situation. (Seven of Wands): Being trapped, in conflict, defending others against harm, evil. Having the strength and fortitude to take a stand, defend what you believe in. Having the faith and courage to face difficulties.

Card 5: What is likely to happen in the immediate future. (King of Swords): Contemplation, solitude, patience, wise understanding, compassion. Understanding that all aspects and needs of people must be balanced.

Card 6: The outcome you most desire. (Queen of Wands): Calm assured confident. Can handle anyone and anything- this is not arrogance, but understanding your skills and abilities. Dedicated, engaging, wanting peace, harmony.

Card 7: Your self-image, how you see yourself in this situation. (3 pentacles): Working with others, compromise, cooperation.

Card 8: Influence of those around you/ how others see you in this situation. (8 Cups): On a solitary quest. Relinquishing the material world to seek answers from the depths, the underworld. Maybe upsetting the balance in order to achieve something greater- a more lasting connection or peace.

Card 9: What you hope or fear the most. (4 cups): Getting lost in yourself, not belonging, loneliness, boredom. Being too self-absorbed, introspective, seeking too deep into own concerns, lost in reverie.

Card 10: Outcome. What is most likely to come of it all if nothing much changes between now and then. (3cups): Coming together, creating something together, celebration, friendship, relying on others. Some sense of community, working things out together.

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Posted in life, relationships. Tags: Celtic cross spread, it's in the cards, solitary quest, tarot reading. 1 Comment »

Identity Theft and Facebook

October 20, 2013 — Pat Bertram

Identity theft is the fastest growing crime in America. In 2010, the total loss attributed to identity theft was $13.2 billion. In 2012, the loss was $21 billion.

According to the FFC, the number of identity theft incidents has reached 9.9 million a year, about 19 every minute. Even worse, studies show that it’s becoming more common for someone close to the victim to be the thief. In 32% of identity theft cases, a family member or relative was responsible for stealing the identity. Another 18% were victimized by friend, neighbor, or in-home employee. The average loss per incident is $4,930.

The moral of the story is, be careful about giving out personal information. If someone calls you asking for such information, be very suspicious. If you make the call, such as to your bank, it’s probably okay (and necessary) to give out the information.

Just as important is to be careful what you post on Facebook and other sites. So many security questions that institution and various sites ask, such things as mother’s maiden name, the name of your first pet, or the street you grew up on, are routinely mentioned on FB, and con artists can use such information to gain access to your life. (Only 28% of identity theft cases involve credit or financial fraud. Phone, utility, bank and employment fraud make up another 50% of the cases.)

And of course, you know that you’re supposed to use passwords and PIN numbers that are not easy to guess or are not recorded anywhere.

One thing no one mentions is “liking” pages on Facebook or even off Facebook. I’ve liked things and then never been able to unlike them, and forever after, those products or programs are linked to me. “Liking” has become entwined in the whole marketing milieu, letting your friends and fans (and potential victimizers) know more about you than you ever wanted them to know.

Of course, I have nothing of any monetary value, so I doubt anyone would ever care to steal, but still, I try to be careful.

Makes me wonder — what if someone had their identity stolen, and it turned out to be a good thing for them. Could be an interesting story.

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Posted in culture, internet. Tags: facebook and identity theft, identity theft, protection from identity theft. 7 Comments »

By the Light of the Moon

October 19, 2013 — Pat Bertram

Last night I went walking by the light of the moon. I was in a group, and we strode on a trail beside a riverbed, so we didn’t have to deal with traffic, which is just as well. Even with the full moon, we would have been invisible to drivers. (I couldn’t see the couple who walked in front of my car as I drove to the rendezvous until I was almost on them. Good thing they were aware of me, though it wasn’t bright of them to be so careless.)

I don’t remember ever taking a moonlit walk before. When I was a young adult, before I got my car (the same one I have now, incidentally) I walked to work, and I often had to hike home alone in the dark. I suppose during many of those city nights there had been a visible moon, but streetlights brought the sky in close, so something as far away as the moon would not have been as impressive or as memorable as the moon last night.

I do remember one particular night walk — it had to have been almost twenty-five years ago when my now deceased life mate/soul mate was still strong and healthy and up for adventure. We were living in a small town. Snow had fallen, and no one was about. No cars were on the road. All was still. Not even a hint of a breeze. We could hear the crunch of pristine snow beneath our feet, and the almost cathedral-like silence. It was bright — we weren’t walking in pitch black — but I don’t know if the light came from a moon or from ambient light reflected off the snow. We only walked a few blocks to a small town square. We stood there for a few minutes, enjoying the magical night, and then we headed back.

I don’t recall any other night walks. We spent the last couple of decades in ranching country, and an irrigation ditch ran in front of the house. Stagnant water. Mosquitoes. Need I say more? Well, maybe I do. I’m sensitive to mosquito venom — the bites always make me sick — so as much as possible I stayed inside when evening came. Besides, I didn’t much like the thought of meeting a coyote or a fox (or even an angry dog) on that empty country road.

So last night was a treat. A cool, clear, autumn evening with a hint of a breeze. A few stars. And a moon so bright in the huge empty sky, it cast our shadows on the pathway.

A walk worth remembering. A walk worth writing about.

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