This week the columnist serves up a large order of wisdom with a side of humor. No tipping please!

“…..Even the seasons form a great circle in their changing, and always come back again to where they were. The life of a man is a circle from childhood to childhood, and so it is in everything where power moves.” ~ Black Elk Oglala Sioux Holy Man (1863-1950)

This past week was rather thought-provoking. I won’t go into detail but suffice to say I feel I took a giant step forward on the long, bumpy road that is my writing career.

I’d struggled with some personal issues over the past few weeks that had me questioning myself, my motives – just about everything. But a few setbacks and a couple of minor detours later, the road has smoothed out nicely and I’m moving forward again.

Just to show you how bad things had become, I checked in on my column on Norton Patch on Thursday and a guy who was running around naked in an Attleboro neighborhood had beaten me out for the most read article that day.

Of course, I’m kidding. That wasn’t the worst thing that happened, but it was a bit sobering. I do enjoy seeing my column on top of the ‘most read’ list.

Life can be downright ludicrous at times. If we’re honest about it, I’d guess that most of us are not where we thought we’d be at this moment in time, nor are we doing what we thought we’d be doing.

I realize I’m overstating this and speaking in very broad terms, but I’m willing to bet this applies to most of us. For many, the path we’ve ultimately traveled may not have been our first choice, or even our second or third. The fact is that our path may not have been our choice at all, but was merely the place where we landed.

As David Byrne from Talking Heads so aptly put it, “We may find ourselves in another part of the world. We may find ourselves behind the wheel of a large automobile. We may find ourselves in a beautiful house, with a beautiful wife. And we may ask ourselves, ‘Well, how did I get here?’ “

I should probably spend less time on YouTube. It may be having a deleterious effect on my thinking process. Oh, and that word – deleterious – that’s my Word Of The Day. Hey, it works for Bill O’Reilly why shouldn’t it work for me? Come on, go look it up. Google it. Don’t be a sluggard!

Seriously though, life can be strange, don’t you agree? A lot of things we believed to be absolute truth when we were in our teens and twenties are replaced by new truths in our thirties, which in turn are replaced by another set of truths in our forties, and so on and so forth throughout our lives. We are forever immersed in the process of philosophical evolution; the refining of thought. It’s a life-long learning process.

Before the extremists from either side of this debate jump down my throat because they believe that they alone are the caretakers of all that’s true and good, let me say that, yes; there are those who lock on to one set of philosophical beliefs and hold it as their own throughout their lives. They believe that they possess and are the custodians of the absolute truth.

I say, “Good for them!” I’m happy for them. I’m in the Libertarian camp on this one. I believe everyone has the right to make choices as to how to live their own lives providing they respect the rights of others to do likewise. There’s considerably more to it than that, but that’s the Bob Havey paraphrase.

The problem is that many who believe they have the truth do not share my view and do not respect the rights of others to make their own choices. This is a very dangerous path to pursue. One’s personal beliefs are not to be ridiculed. We are free to disagree, but as long as the beliefs of others are not doing harm to someone else; we need to butt out and let things fall where they may.

Fair debate is always fitting, but ridicule is never acceptable. Disrespect for our fellow man is inappropriate and indefensible and the fact that someone is not in the same place that we are mentally, emotionally or spiritually does not give us license to bully them into compliance with our own beliefs and principles even though we may feel we have their best interests at heart.

I have a saying I’m very fond of that I believe fits perfectly into this discussion – God will let you go where you need to go in order to get you where you need to be. I’m fairly certain this particular phrase is of my own creation, but I know it’s comprised of bits and pieces of things I’ve heard from others over the years. Most things are.

After all, we are the sum total of our experiences to this point in our lives and it’s likely that none of us has ever had a strictly original thought aside from what we’ve gleaned from the thoughts of others throughout our lives.

We are all participants in the circle of life. Most of us get married. We have children and our homes are filled with baby food and diapers. Life marches on, as it is wont to do, and in due time our children leave home, get married and have children of their own; and now their homes are filled with baby food and diapers.

Our children bring their children [our grandchildren] to visit us and our homes are again filled with baby food and diapers.

We progress further down the continuum of time and before we know it our grandchildren get married and have had children of their own [our great-grandchildren]. Strangely enough; our homes are still filled with baby food and diapers, but things are curiously different now.

The baby food and diapers we keep in our homes are no longer for our children, or our grand-children, or our great grand-children……….

They’re for us!

Ah, that pesky circle of life!

Make it a great week!

Bob Havey is an Easton-based freelance writer and a consummate trouble-maker. His column, “The View From Here”, appears each Tuesday at http://easton-ma.patch.com and on Wednesday at http://mansfield-ma.patch.com. His column, “The Way I See It”, runs every other Wednesday at http://norton.patch.com.

Related Topics: Bob Havey, Easton Patch, The Circle of Life, and the view from here

The enemy seeks to kill and destroy!

Many people hear voices when no one is there. Some of them are called mad and are shut up in rooms where they stare at the walls all day. Others are called writers and they do pretty much the same thing.” ~ Margaret Chittenden

I love that quote from novelist, Margaret Chittenden, and I’ve referred to it more than a few times in my writing. There aren’t too many things that can happen to a writer worse than the feeling of an impending deadline closing in as he or she sits helplessly in front of a computer staring off into the abyss of lost ideas.

Been there! Done that! Not fun!

Granted, there are many worse things that can happen in life, but for the moment I’m talking about things that are associated strictly with the world of writing, not life in general.

But let’s switch gears, shall we? As we all know only too well, life has many a raw deal in store for us. It’s all part of this amazing gig called living. I’m not being negative or defeatist here – just truthful.

If you’ve never experienced pain, heartbreak, suffering or any of the myriad of other little goodies on the shelves of life’s vast grocery store, you will. Life happens. Plain and simple.

In his acclaimed book, “The War of Art,” Steven Pressfield said, “There’s a secret that real writers know that wannabe writers don’t and the secret is this: it’s not the writing part that’s hard. What’s hard is sitting down to write. What keeps us from sitting down is Resistance.”

This statement holds true not only for writers, but for anyone in any field and from any walk of life. When we step out to do something, to accomplish something in our life, we will have obstacles placed in our way; some from sources within and some from without. But rest assured Resistance is bent on keeping us from accomplishing whatever it is we may have set out to do – from reaching our goal!

Again, this applies to everyone! That means you! Whether you’re a doctor, a lawyer, a teacher, a laborer, a housewife, a mom or whatever; this is about you! No one is excluded.

I know there are those who are reading this and thinking, I know exactly what he’s talking about. That happens to me all the time. And there are those who think this is all a bunch of hocus pocus. For those on the hocus pocus side of the discussion, your unbelief is your obstacle; it’s Resistance; the thing that will keep you from personal growth; the thing that will keep you stuck in a rut of your own making.

Keep in mind that staying stuck in a rut is extremely counterproductive; in fact it’s downright suicidal. A rut is nothing more than a grave with the sides kicked out. Both the grave and the rut represent death; in the case of the rut it’s representative of the death of your life’s purpose.

There’s truth and wisdom in Friedrich Nietzsche’s oft-quoted assertion, That which does not kill us makes us stronger. Many who have weathered the wrath of life’s storms and the destruction that follows can attest to having come through their ordeal a stronger individual. That certainly doesn’t mean to say that there are no lingering scars or that the pain we endure doesn’t take a toll on us; but those things, as much as we’d like to avoid them, are the character builders of life; the things that mold us in our pain and our suffering; the things that ultimately make us who we are; the true us.

Just as a quick aside here, Nietzsche also said, “Ah, women. They make the highs higher and the lows more frequent,” but that’s a subject for another day and, more than likely, a topic I’ll leave to another columnist; someone braver and dumber than I. I have a fairly large female readership and I’m a lot of things, but self-destructive is not one of them.

That brief interlude was a way to let you off the hook for a second; to relieve the pressure of what many of us refuse to do – take a look at ourselves. But all good things must end so let’s jump back into the fire, shall we?

Psalm 23:4 says, in part, “….though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil….” Please note something here that is of great significance. We are to walk through the valley. Nowhere does it tell us to stop, pitch a tent and set up camp in the midst of the valley. Nowhere! It says very specifically that we are to go through; to get our rear ends out of the valley. No encampments, no pity parties, and definitely no Occupy the Valley regardless of what Mayor Menino says!

But, of course, we think we know better. We find ourselves in a tough situation and decide we’re going to wallow in it. We dwell on it, feed it, take it to bed with us and spend our every waking moment nurturing it until it becomes the focal point of our existence. We’ve willingly crawled into the rut and now we’re trapped there waiting for the dirt to be thrown over us. Rather than controlling our circumstances, our circumstances are now controlling us. The &%#!@ has hit the proverbial fan and we all know what a mess that can be.

Any time we step out in faith to accomplish anything worthwhile, Resistance will rear its ugly head. Resistance may appear in the form of a spouse who isn’t supportive, a friend who continually reassures us that we will ultimately fail [we all know these people], or anything that will steer us away from our dreams or set up roadblocks between us and our goal.

Resistance may even come from within ourselves! As a matter of fact, we can more than likely count on the fact that will happen. We are our own worst enemies. As Walt Kelly’s memorable cartoon character, Pogo, said, “We have met the enemy and he is us.”

Resistance most often manifests itself as the little voice inside our heads that graciously validates our vast, ever-growing list of excuses as to why we haven’t accomplished anything we’ve set out to do in our pathetic, mundane lives, and why we never will. It gives us every reason we would ever need to give up; to quit like we always do – because it’s too hard, or we don’t have the proper education, or we’re too tired, or whatever the excuse du jour may be. The list of excuses Resistance can conjure up are infinite – and deadly.

You’ll notice I’ve written Resistance with a capital R. That’s because Resistance is an entity, an unseen spiritual presence; a negative force bent on destroying our hopes and dreams.

If you’re a burgeoning author, Resistance may whisper, “You’ll never write a book! What makes you think you can write a book? Even if you write it, nobody will read it. Who would ever want to read your book?”

If you’re an artist, a teacher, a truck driver, a musician, or a mom or a dad doing your best to raise a family, Resistance will whisper its deadly lies in your ear when you’re at your weakest point; when there are problems at your job; when the kids are acting out and you’re at your breaking point.

Don’t believe it? That’s Resistance!

Make it a great week!

Bob Havey is an Easton-based freelance writer and a consummate trouble-maker. His column, The Way I See It, runs every other Wednesday at Norton Patch and his column, “The View From Here”, appears each Tuesday at Easton Patch and on Wednesday at Mansfield Patch.

About this column: Facetious remarks, tongue-in-cheek comments, sarcasm and a touch of wisdom combined with a bizarre sense of humor are what you can expect in this column on Norton Patch. Related Topics: Bob Havey, Norton Patch, Writing, resistance, and the way i see it

The columnist allows us to take a peek at his typical daily routine. Good grief!

 dragged my tired butt out of bed at 5:45 this morning and believe me, when I say dragged; I mean that quite literally. I am not now nor have I ever been a morning person. I always get up fairly early, by 6:00 or 6:15, even on the weekends, but that doesn’t mean I’m happy about it. I just can’t sleep in any later than that, even if I go to bed late. It’s quite a dilemma.

My wife knows better than to talk to me until I’m fully awake. But of course that doesn’t mean she actually adheres to that practice. I’m not sure if it’s just that she enjoys annoying me or that she likes living on the edge; perhaps it’s a bit of both.

So, I got up this morning, threw on a pair of pajama bottoms and a t-shirt and stumbled down the stairs. Those of you who are observant have more than likely noticed that I got out of bed and threw some clothes on without taking off the clothes I wore to bed. That’s because I sleep naked! In the buff!

There’s nothing more annoying (other than, perhaps, my wife talking my ear off at 6 a.m.) than waking up in the middle of the night all tangled up in a pajama top or bottom or whatever you wear to bed. It’s infuriating! And let’s be real here; what could be more comfy than being all snuggled up in a nice warm bed sans clothing?

I got to the bottom of the stairs and took a sharp right into the kitchen. At that point I was still in a fog, still partially asleep, so the fact that the kitchen is easy to find, and the alluring smell of fresh-brewed coffee helped me maneuver my way to the coffee pot without any problem.

I poured some cream into a 16-ounce mug, threw in my Splenda and put the mug into the microwave for 30 seconds, which warms the cream and melts the Splenda. For some reason the coffee tastes better to me that way; one of my little idiosyncrasies! Then I poured the coffee into my mug as close to the top as I could possibly get it so I’m absolutely guaranteed to spill some on the way to the living room and then slop some all over my t-shirt while I’m drinking it.

You’d think I’d learn to leave some room at the top of the cup so I don’t spill but, like I said; I have these little quirks. It just so happens that I’m crazy enough to write them down to share with the world. You may think it’s self-humiliation, but it still beats the heck out of getting up and hauling my rear end to some boring office every morning.

I made my way into the living room, which was notably more difficult to do than navigating my way to the kitchen. I then flopped down into the recliner. As I reached for the TV remote I spilled coffee all over my t-shirt (I told you that was going to happen. You should have seen it coming). And, since I didn’t have a napkin, I cleaned the coffee off my t-shirt with a dry section of my t-shirt. I’m not sure that made a great deal of sense, but remember; it was early and like I said; I’m not a morning person. Besides, the t-shirt was stained anyway, so no big deal!

I sucked down my coffee pretty quickly and got up and went back to the kitchen to get some more. By this time I could almost see straight. Not quite, but almost, and I was hopeful that an additional 16-ounces of Joe would remedy that.

I headed back to the living room, again collapsed into the recliner, and methodically nursed my second half-quart of caffeine-laden nectar before getting up and going back to the kitchen to get a dishcloth to clean up the coffee I’d slopped all over the carpet. What can I say? It’s that over-filling idiosyncrasy thing again.

I cleaned up the mess I’d made on the carpet and attempted to gather my thoughts; a gargantuan task for me at this ungodly hour of the day.

If you read last week’s column you’ll remember I told you that I’m diabetic; that my blood glucose levels have been out of sorts, and that my endocrinologist has reamed my butt about not getting enough exercise. And if you didn’t read last week’s column, why the hell didn’t you?

In keeping with my doctor’s admonishment and since I’d like to live as long and healthy a life as possible; my plan for the day was to walk for 30-minutes before I started writing and then another 30-minutes after dinner. In keeping with my personal philosophy – Why me? – I reluctantly yet determinedly threw on my workout clothes and strolled out the back door to begin my walk. I’m not exactly sure one can be reluctant and determined simultaneously, but that’s how it felt so I’m sticking with it.

The air was quite cold, which helped tremendously in waking me up and getting me moving so as not to freeze to death. Okay, it wasn’t that cold, but I need something to complain about and this is all I’ve got.

I completed my walk and to tell you the truth (I’d only lie to you if there were money to be made and there isn’t), I felt great when I finished. I don’t know why that surprises me because whenever I get exercise, whether it’s working out in my garden or going to the gym; I feel terrific afterward, which is, naturally, the reason I don’t do it all the time.

I went back inside the house and went directly to my office to check my email. I got my first computer back in 1998. My friend, Alan Siegel, told me I should get this thing called email. I had no idea what email was so I asked him to explain it to me, which he did. I laughed and said something like, “That’s ridiculous! Why would I ever need that?” Nearly fourteen years later, if I don’t check my email within an hour of getting up in the morning; I go into anaphylactic shock. I’m pretty sure they don’t make an EpiPen for that.

While I was in my office I decided to check in on my Facebook page. I’m rather obsessive about checking in there several times a day to see how many ‘Likes’ I’ve gotten and how many hits I’ve had on my articles. This isn’t life and death to me, but it’s pretty damn close. Okay, I live for checking my Facebook page! There, I’ve said it.

So, I played around on Facebook for a while and then stated writing. While I was in my creative mode I checked YouTube for a song I wanted to work into my column; an attribute for which The View From Here has become well-known.

I found what I needed and went back to writing, all the while keeping an eye on my Facebook page that I’d minimized at the bottom of my computer screen. God forbid I should miss a ‘Like’ or a hit! I then decided to mess around a little on YouTube, searching out some of my favorite tunes from the sixties. Led Zeppelin, my all-time favorites from that era and of course, The Doors and Jimi Hendrix. There are more, but I’ll leave it with those three for now.

After lapsing into a YouTube coma for longer than I’m willing to admit, I went back to writing, during which time I messed around on Facebook now and then, popped back in and out of YouTube some more and then took a short respite from my writing to run up to Dunkin Donuts to grab a coffee before returning to my office and jumping back into my work with a little Facebook and YouTube thrown in for good measure.

Did I mention that I also checked in to my Twitter account? I have no idea why, other than that I was looking for another distraction – like I didn’t already have enough. You know, the logic of that whole Twitter thing still eludes me. I don’t get it, but that doesn’t stop me from posting the links to my work there. Just more exposure I guess. Frankly, I’m feeling a little over-exposed lately.

I finished my coffee and just as I was about to try to scrounge up some more, I discovered I’d left a half-full iced coffee sitting on the floor next to my desk. Talk about divine providence!

Of course it didn’t resemble anything any normal human being would dare put to their lips, but I’ve never staked a claim on anything resembling normalcy, so I scooped it up like Billy Buchner fielding a grounder at first base to win the 1986 World Series. Oh, never mind!

I sucked down that iced coffee, or what was once iced coffee but now resembled pond scum, and went back to work none the worse for wear, unless you count the queasy feeling in my stomach.

By this time my bladder was at or above capacity. Had I been the head of the Sewer Department, I’d have had to open the overflow valve to the wastewater treatment plant. That wasn’t a good option for me though, as I’m not particularly enamored with wet pants and puddles beneath my desk.

I made a quick yet productive trip to the bathroom and returned to my office feeling much relieved and eager to get back to work. I wrote for about a half-hour and was feeling pretty good about the progress I was making when my head began to ache. It wasn’t a throbbing headache, but it was uncomfortable just the same; a constant, dull ache that started behind my eyes and ran up my forehead to the back of my neck.

I remembered that I’d read that caffeine is good for headaches and it didn’t specify that it wouldn’t help if the headache was actually brought on by caffeine, so I decided to give it a shot and got myself some more coffee. Sure enough – it worked!

Not being a big proponent of the less is more philosophy, I figured that if a little bit of coffee relieved my headache, a lot of coffee would keep it at bay until I finished my column, so I went out into the kitchen and made some more.

While I waited for the coffee, I went back into my office and started writing again, checked my Facebook page for the umpteenth time, popped onto Twitter, wrote a bit more and poked around on YouTube a bit.

The smell of the freshly brewed coffee called to me and I promptly ran (literally) to the kitchen, poured the cream into my cup, added the Splenda, popped it into the microwave for 30-seconds, took the cup out and filled it to the brim with coffee.

If this sounds vaguely familiar to you it’s because I’d done the same thing previously in the day and told you about it earlier in this piece. It’s my coffee preparation ritual. I do it each time I make coffee and I do it exactly the same way every time. It’s not that I’m obsessive-compulsive or anything like that. It’s just that I do the same things the same way every time – over and over and over again. I have to do that or I start shaking violently and break out in a cold sweat.

I took my coffee to my office and sipped it slowly while I got back to my work. Then I checked Facebook again, sure that someone had left a snide remark on one of my columns. Then I got another headache, more than likely brought on by the anxiety I was going through because of my fear that someone had posted on Twitter, telling everyone that I was paranoid.

I gulped down the rest of my coffee, hoping to alleviate my throbbing headache, went into the bathroom grabbed six Advil from the medicine cabinet, got a bottle of water from the fridge, popped the Advil into my mouth and sucked down the entire bottle of water.

Determined to finish my column, I went back into my office and began typing ferociously when I had an epiphany. Oh, it had nothing to do with my writing; I just realized that I really had to pee again – so off I went to the bathroom. I blame the water.

Okay. I’m ready now. I’m back in my office, totally revitalized and eager to get back to work.

Now where was I?

I’m so confused!

Make it a great week!

Bob Havey is an Easton-based freelance writer and a consummate trouble-maker. His column, “The View From Here”, appears each Tuesday at http://easton-ma.patch.com and on Wednesday at http://mansfield-ma.patch.com. His column, The Way I See It, runs every other Wednesday at http://norton.patch.com.

Related Topics: Bob Havey, Easton Patch, and the view from here