After 7,000 miles, a good chunk of it in a single week, I am spent. (I realize all my posts lately seem to be “life lessons from Joel’s traveling and how it affects his work” and now that we’re settled, er, settling, watch for real life genuine content again soon.)
(Aw, this is real live genuine content. It applies to your art and mine. Just watch.)
I finished the text for one book. Editing is in progress, but slowly.
Sue’s business life changed significantly for the better, opening new possibilities for us. Still, it’s change. Even good stress is stress. Try having a child. Most glorious event in human life. Also on the short list of most taxing, physically and emotionally.
Am I behind on this, that, and the other thing? Yup.
Am I frustrated about it? Nope.
Limitations, in the current context, are things that keep me from doing all I can. (That’s not a dictionary definition. As mathematicians say, “by definition” which means it means what I say it means.)
Limits are external forces we don’t have the power to push through, past, or around.
You cannot fly, no matter how hard or well you flap your wings.
You cannot hold your breath for an hour. You cannot lift a Sherman tank. I can’t jump nine feet in the air.
My work has been affected by our travels. The flip side of that is that we spent some marvelous time with some of the people we love most in the world. I was asked twice for a musical performance. Sincere appreciation was shown, and I was in heaven. Fiona had some time with her sister, her favorite person in all the world. Sue and I had oodles of time to talk, plan, review, laugh, cry, hug, and dream.
I wish I’d had the time and strength to write, edit, work, publish, post, and develop. But I didn’t.
I hit a limit, but not a limitation.
And I’m okay with that. More than okay.
I am content.