Stew's tales of Lucy, who I learned had since passed away, and Sophie were so touching that I began to panic. "OMG, they both mean so much to him. How could I ever draw them as wonderful as he sees them? He paid me up front and in full! What made me think I'd be able to pull this off? Maybe I can refund his money?"
It became obvious that I'm a pretty confident guy until somebody expects something from me. So I set out to build my confidence by studying the photos of Lucy and Sophie. I watched videos Stew forwarded to me. I went to dog parks with my pad to sketch anonymous dogs. Still nothing I drew seemed to feel like what I now knew and grew to love about Stew's two girls.
After several weeks of agony, out of the blue on a Thursday, my close friend and co-host on "Funniest Thing! with Darrell and Ed", Ed Biagiotti began to tell me that on the previous evening at metaphysical bible study, he brought up his recent struggle with songwriting. The facilitator Dr. Elizabeth Marshal shared with him that our talents come from God with all the ability necessary to create whatever it is that is required. It's not personal. It's a gift that God gave us to share with others.
Hearing this was a relief. I had been struggling because I was relying entirely on myself: expecting and demanding too much. This was cutting me off from the flow of divine inspiration and ability. I reassured myself that it was OK to let go and trust my super-conscious to guide me without any expectation of what I think the outcome must look like.
Later that same day the TV was on and I felt the urge to try drawing Sophie. I let myself off the hook and sat at the kitchen table, brushing aside the thought that I should be at my 'proper' desk in the studio. Pulling out the pen I always carry from my pocket I drew without expectation. When I felt reason begin to dictate how I should draw, I reassured myself like a loving parent and encouraging me to let go and have fun this time. I imagined divine guidance flowing in through the top of my head as if through my halo if I had one, then down through my heart, my arm, and guiding my hand. Letting go is exhilarating, because I'm going along for the ride in spite of my doubts. Whenever I'm able to create in this way it tends to feel miraculous, like I had very little to do with it. Everything seems to come together effortlessly.
In what felt like an instant a drawing of Sophie appeared on the paper. I couldn't believe how perfect it looked and how wonderful it felt. I was so confident about this drawing that I took a picture and immediately texted it to Stew. His reply was instantaneous, "I love it!"
As I admired this drawing of Sophie, I kept reflecting about how great it felt to once again release control and trust my higher self without certainty. Within a few days I began the daunting and rewarding process all over again with Lucy. Ignore perfection = be brilliant.