Life, Fate, and Conundrums

February 25, 2026 — Pat Bertram

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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Finding a Purpose

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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A Simple Life

February 23, 2026 — Pat Bertram

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

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

And kept a detailed journal.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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Moving the World

February 16, 2026 — Pat Bertram

A friend and I recently discussed the Walk for Peace and what we thought would happen now that it’s finished and the monks back home. She thinks it will have a lasting effect and will make a big difference to the world.

Me? Not so much. People tend to get caught up in the spirit of the moment, especially big moments, and they hold on to that feeling of peace or commitment or awe or whatever for a while, but then life happens. And keeps happening. And the feeling that they thought would last forever dissipates and eventually gets put away, only to be remembered long afterward as a curiosity. For sure, some people’s lives were changed. Some people will follow through with the daily affirmation that was handed out during the walk: “Today will be my peaceful day.” Some will practice mindfulness as the monks urged, doing only one thing at a time. Some will even set their phones down for a while and just live in the offline moment.

Those things are important. After all, that was the monks’ message and their hope — that people would find inner peace. But will it change the world in the long run? Interestingly, the monks didn’t set out to change the world. They merely set out mindfully on a walking meditation with no announcement, no big production, no online presence. Just twenty monks walking. (Nineteen human and one canine.) That was it. They thought a few people would pause for a moment to watch and perhaps be moved to find their own inner peace, but they had no expectations beyond placing one foot in front of the other.

And yet people found them. Because of the interest, monks who stayed behind set up a map, websites, social sites, made and uploaded videos. The news of the walk spread, and hundreds of thousands of people stopped their lives to stand by the road and watch the monks walk by. Millions all around the world participated vicariously through videos and live streaming. During those months, there was a vast outpouring of kindness, compassion, harmony, love, and hope. All that energy would have to go somewhere since energy can’t be destroyed, so maybe there was enough power generated to move the world.

I keep thinking about a certain episode in The Wheel of Time books. The weather in their world has gone out of whack due to the Dark One’s effort to destroy the world and even humanity. But a couple of the girl heroes (“witches” some call them) have managed to find the ancient, long-lost bowl the sea faring people once used to control the weather, and these heroes as well as the sea people — Windfinders — get together to change the weather back to the way it’s supposed to be, pouring into the bowl huge amounts of the power only they can wield.

Afterward, they collapsed from exhaustion, but there was no immediate discernible difference in the weather. One of the heroes asks belligerently, “All of that, for what? Did we do anything or not?”

‘The Windfinder struggled to her feet. “Do you think Weaving the Winds is like throwing the helm over on a darter?” she demanded contemptuously. “I just moved the rudder on a skimmer with a beam as broad as the world! He will take time to turn, time to know he is supposed to turn. That he must turn. But when he does, not the Father of Storms himself will be able to stand in his way.”’

Is it possible my friend is right and the walk for peace will have this sort of effect? Is it possible peace will ripple through the world, changing things in ways we can’t even imagine? Maybe in ways we can’t discern but are still subtly effective? Despite my rather cynical view of people, I would like to think the walk for peace will make a difference.

***

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

 

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Seeing and Being Seen

February 15, 2026 — Pat Bertram

When I watched the videos of people watching the monks walk for peace, I noticed how many had tears in their eyes. I imagine the in-person experience was overwhelming because just watching videos of those terracotta-robed men walking barefoot or wrapped up against the snow and wind was powerful in itself. But I think it was more than that. I think the watchers felt seen.

I bet many bystanders were surprised by that “seeing,” because after all, they stood, sometimes for hours, simply waiting to see the monks go by, but as the monks passed, the walkers looked at their watchers and the watchers were seen. It worked both ways. The monks themselves admitted they felt witnessed, not simply watched as if they were a parade, and it touched them. Hence, the tears from both the walkers and the watchers.

In the movie Shall We Dance, Beverly Clark (Susan Sarandon) says: “We need a witness to our lives. There’s a billion people on the planet . . . I mean, what does any one life really mean? But in a marriage, you’re promising to care about everything. The good things, the bad things, the terrible things, the mundane things . . . all of it, all of the time, every day. You’re saying ‘Your life will not go unnoticed because I will notice it. Your life will not go un-witnessed because I will be your witness.’”

Admittedly, this walk wasn’t a marriage (and a lot of marriages don’t work like Beverly Clark’s anyway). I didn’t mention the quote for the marriage part but for the witnessing part. (Though, in a way, that brief connection between walker and watcher could be construed as a marriage in the sense of a combination of two or more elements, but still, not important to this discussion.)

I think so many of us are hungry to be seen, not simply as a body standing by the side of the road, but as a person, an individual, perhaps as someone who wants to participate in something greater than ourselves. And those wise Buddhist eyes saw. And those bright Buddhist smiles drew everyone into the heart of their mission.

By the time the walkers reached Washington, so much of that “witnessing” aspect of the walk had disappeared. (At least on video. I have no idea what those thousands upon thousands of bystanders experienced.) The crowds were too huge, for one thing, and for another, members of congress showed up, with cops helping them bulldoze their way through the crowd, wanting merely to be seen seeing the monks. (To me, that was the most bizarre part of the whole walk, even more bizarre than the people who followed the monks through several states, heckling them and exhorting them to convert.)

I have a hunch this need to be seen is why the social aspect of the internet is so immense. Or maybe not — too many people hide behind user names and seem more interested in creating havoc than in merely being witnessed, but who knows. It could be why I write this blog, but again, who knows.

What I do know is that for one hundred and twenty days, people saw and were seen, and lives were changed.

***

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

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Peace Pilgrims

February 12, 2026 — Pat Bertram

Several years ago, I seriously considered doing an epic walk — hike one of the long trails like the Pacific Crest Trail, trek along the Pacific coast, or walk across the United States. I was just starting to come out of my deep grief after Jeff died, and I wanted to find a deeper connection to both myself and the world, maybe even go through some sort of spiritual transformation. When I mentioned this desire to a friend, she suggested that I walk for a cause like the Peace Pilgrim did because if I had a cause, people would be more willing to help supply food, water, a shower or even transportation if I need it, and they might even get others to help. I never did find a cause, nor, despite training for it, was I ever able to do that epic walk. Instead, I took hundreds of day hikes, an overnight hike, and finally a 12,000, 21-week cross-country road trip, camping and hiking when I could, staying with friends or even treating myself to a motel when I wanted to or needed to.

As epic as that trip was, it was not what I’d originally envisioned, which was something akin to what the Peace Pilgrim did. The Peace Pilgrim was a woman who, in response to a spiritual awakening, had taken a vow to “remain a wanderer until mankind has learned the way of peace, walking until given shelter and fasting until given food.” Her pilgrimage began in 1953 when she was 44 and ended with her death in 1981. She carried only a pen, a comb, a toothbrush, and a map, trusting to those she met to supply what she needed, though she never asked for anything.

I admired her zeal and wished I could do the same, but I didn’t have that sort of trust. Still don’t. Nor do I have the physical ability for such an endeavor. I am on a different mission now, if such a solemn word can describe what I am living for — a peaceful life, taking care of myself, maybe even that deeper connection to myself and the world I once envisioned. Still, that old dream of a life-changing walk haunts me, which is one reason I was so fascinated by the monks and their walk for peace.

As with so many of my posts, the first few paragraphs usually serve only as background to a point I’d like to make, which is the uncanny connections between the Peace Pilgrim and the leader of the Walk for Peace.

She died in 1981. He supposedly was born in 1981. She started her walking mission when she was 44. He is said to be 44. They both experienced a spiritual awakening that took them from their mundane lives to one of spirituality, service, and inner peace. During both of their walks, they depended on others for food and shelter, accepting what is offered, asking for nothing. I’m not suggesting anything here, just making the observation that the second walk seems to be a continuation of the first. “Seems to be” being the operative words, since there really is no connection except for a few interesting coincidences.

Is there something bizarre about my sitting home, in my comfortable life, admiring (and I admit, envying at least a tad) those who willingly suffer the indignities of the road in the name of peace? If so, I am okay with that. I’m just glad someone is doing what I never could. And glad I got to participate in the Walk for Peace, if only vicariously.

***

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

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Strange Thoughts

February 10, 2026 — Pat Bertram

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

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

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

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

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

Strange thoughts, indeed.

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

***

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

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Choosing Peace

February 8, 2026 — Pat Bertram

Dean Koontz often used a dog as a major character in his books, whether as a naturally superior intelligence, an enhanced intelligence, an alien from another planet, or even as an angel. Those books were not among my favorites because I couldn’t really relate to those dog characters. Although I seldom admit it, because in today’s world not being a dog afficionado is almost a sacrilege, I don’t connect to animals the way other people do. Of course, I don’t connect to many humans, either, but that’s beside the point.

As I’ve been watching dozens and dozens of video clips of the monks on their walk for peace, accompanied by their dog Aloka, I can’t help but think of Koontz. Although his dog characters are always golden retrievers and Aloka is an Indian Pariah dog, a street dog from India, I see a strong correlation between Koontz’s almost-an-angel dogs and Aloka.

In his own way, it seems, Aloka is bringing peace to the multitudes that pause in the strife of their daily lives to watch the monks and their dog pass by. The dog seems as happy and as calm and as peaceful as his companions, just going about his day walking, being mindful of his surroundings. What’s interesting to me, and what is so Koontz-y is that Aloka chose the monks. He started following them in 2022 during a 100+ day peace walk in India. Many other dogs also followed, but Aloka stayed, a quiet companion to the walkers, as if he knew what they were about and wanted to be a part of it.

When the monks decided to make their next walk here in the United States, they brought Aloka with them. And together, they fulfill their mission. No big pronouncements. No noise. Just walk. Be present. Be at peace. Aloka seems to have an additional job or two, showing absolute loyalty, and even though he is recovering from a January surgery, he seems to still take his job as protectant seriously, staying focused and watching over the monks from a support vehicle.

Apparently, some people follow Aloka more than the monks, but that, too, seems part of this incredible journey.

I came late to the walk for peace because I don’t really like videos, and besides, the first videos I saw were of various preachers trying to convert the monks, which seemed . . . inappropriate. But now I’m as mesmerized as everyone else.

Until I gave up consistent blogging, I used to participate in a blog-for-peace project every November 4th. Although I didn’t believe world peace was possible (because whatever the world leaders say, they really don’t want it), I thought it was important to stress that peace starts with us. The monks’ walk (and Aloka’s) reminds me so much of what the peace bloggers wanted — just to show that peace is possible.

And apparently, peace is possible. It is all in our minds, especially when we live in the present moment. Like Aloka, we just have to choose it. My wish for us is the same one the monks have left for us: “May we all find our way back to the present moment.”

***

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

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Balance

February 7, 2026 — Pat Bertram

I got caught in a time warp where I watched videos of the Buddhists walking for peace. I call it a time warp because I thought I was online for just a few minutes, but when I finally looked away, hours had passed, and I had tears in my eyes. The scenes were that mesmerizing and that touching — not just the serene marchers in their distinctive clothing treading on matching flower petals, but the hundreds of thousands of people silently watching them pass by or joining their walk for a while. Oh, there were those who didn’t appreciate what they were seeing and wanted to divert the walkers from their “satanic” path, but from the vast majority, there emanated a feeling of awe, perhaps reverence. A sense of history being made. Even from those who went to see the walkers simply out of curiosity, there was still a great deal of respect for the monks.

It was such a huge disconnect for me because what I’d been seeing online was something completely different. Chaos, screaming, hatred. Crowds that were anything but respectful. In that hostile environment, peace seemed a thousand miles away. Um no. Not seemed. It was literally a thousand miles away since the Buddhists were walking a thousand miles to the south of the chaos.

As I was thinking about these two events, all of a sudden, I didn’t see them as disconnected but as two parts of a balanced whole. This amused me — not the events, of course, but my idea of a balanced whole. Apparently, I’ve spent too much time in the dual cosmology of the Wheel of Time world, where opposing forces work against each other and with each other to create a balance in the world. Light and dark, male and female, good and evil, yin and yang. (It’s no wonder that when these books were made into a television series, the creators of the show changed Jordan’s world to erase the duality, which, considering today’s flexible morality, they ostensibly thought a weakness of the story rather than its very foundation.)

It also showed me something else. In the books, it seems as if “walking in the light” is the default setting; one must expressly go against the light to choose the darkness. Going by the numbers of people I’ve been seeing in the southern videos, it seems as if the default setting in this country is peace, or at least a desire for peace. Lawfulness. A need to get along without major confrontation. Maybe even a need to share something spectacular with one another. (Come to think of it, I’ve always thought peacefulness was our default setting. For example, while some people fudge on traffic laws, most people do follow close enough to the law that traffic flows smoothly without chaos, and the vast majority of drivers arrive at their destination safely. And though it’s long forgotten, the citizens of this country had to be dragged kicking and screaming into the world confrontations the leaders of the first half of the twentieth century got us into.)

Lately, I’ve had to fight a sense of sadness that borders on doom, as if we’re balancing on the brink of . . . something. It’s possible this is a result of my Seasonal Affective Disorder or even my sinus issues (allergies always make me depressed, but not as depressed as allergy medications), but seeing those beautiful monks? Well, to be honest, that made me sad, too, but in a different way, as if the peace they engendered is what life should always be but isn’t.

Still, for today, it was nice to participate in their walk — and its meaning — if only vicariously.

***

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

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