As a man thinketh in his heart, . . . . .

What is it makes me think that I can do it?

“I can” has often wreaked its havoc on my world.

With lofty eyes I put my hand to it

Then oft’ times into turmoil I am hurled

Along with others who may live to rue it.

Why am I prone to think that I will manage

What those who stand much more informed and fitted scorn

Exuberantly I strike out from my vantage

And soon I find I’m weary, bruised and torn

And struggling my hardest fears to banish.

And though perhaps ‘tis ignorance I follow

And other’s eyes and hands are truer than my own.

Adversity becomes my candle’s tallow

The heavy challenge does my spirit hone;

Without which my existence would be hollow.

DWoodall 2006

It's very hard for me to realize 'I can't' in any venue.  Build a room?  Sure.  Develop a studio?  Why not.  Make a waterfall on a hill full of shale and clay?  Piece of cake. 
A couple of problems arise.   When I involve others in my dreaming, they don't always want to do what I dream and most of them aren't really tied to "I can' as I am.  I cannot control that factor at all.  So I begin to understand that I will bless any help I get and figure on doing the bulk solo.  This problem gives me some concern and limits my dreams a little.
There was a time in my existence when I didn't really tire until the job was done.  Yeah, I got tired, but the job itself was energy.  Yet, of late, I find this body doesn't respond to the energy of the job as once it did.
Recently I build a retaining wall on the west side of my upper deck.  Now it's all finished with herbs and flowers planted in two of the three planters created by that process.  The third planter is ready for its flowers.  It's all good - yet the first two days of that project I worked relentlessly.  I had a wounded ankle and so relied on the good leg to power load after load of blocks up the steps of the deck.  And bucket after bucket of dirt came down because at the same time, I was leveling my rock patio for new firepit furniture.  By the time I gave in to weary, I had truly wounded the 'good' leg and I spent over a week getting past that.
Exuberance plans and the old woman never questions the wisdom of Exuberance until the job is underway.  Any satisfaction enjoyed from my effort seems to feed that puppy, even if I know in my whole being that it will grow to be a biting dog.  I know I will continue to plan and to try.  It is in my very DNA to do so, but Reason must also have a voice.  The problem seems to be that Reason speaks softer than Exuberance.