Charleston happened slowly, like a trip to the DMV.  Nearly 14 hours in and my family is defeated by traffic, fried apple pies (they used to be less painful on the stomach when I was younger), beef jerky, and an exciting vacation that had run its course.

At the stroke of midnight I decide to pass the time with a good ole fashion game of “I think I can”.  No need to pull in for the night.  I knew I could make it, and so I marched onward while my family slept.  We arrived home at 3:00 am.  I awoke in the late morning with a migraine and a series of aches and pains my 91-year old grandfather would curse in Italian slang.

Today I feel I have nothing to give, no energy to expend.  But here I am, in front of my computer – empty and open.  I’ve learned week in and week out to sit in this space regardless of the circumstances.  I’ve learned to push further and see what lies beyond.  Each week I begin in ignorance and darkness not knowing where my writing will lead.  But I try with all my might to avoid the temptation to “control” or comfort my fears.

Sometimes, when you think you’ve reached an end point, a closed door, or the limits of your abilities, you find it is, quite simply, the very edge of the beginning.

It reminds me of something I read recently from the fine folks at Samba Blog:

“The first time you ship something, the world will probably ignore you.

The second time you ship, the world will still ignore you.

By the third or fourth time you ship, you start to learn about the world in a way that only the act of shipping teaches.

The more you ship, the harder it gets for you to ignore the world.

The more you ship, the harder it gets for the world to ignore you.”

When you feel the chips are down, or you are facing what appear to be insurmountable fears and self-doubt, make an effort to engage.  And when you feel you’ve pushed yourself to the limit – push further.

Go through to the other side and come out singing.  It’s a fine marketing lesson, and an even better life lesson.