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It took me many years to be able to let go and trust what inspiration brings into our creative endeavors. So often our minds or egos kick in and divert our attention. My paintings have often expressed my love of a place in nature that "spoke" to me and I did my very best to capture that which excited me in that moment. But there are other forms of inspiration that come from somewhere else while in the “zone”. I can feel inspiration coming as a rising of energy, rushing in of ideas with great speed and if I allow myself to open to it, make the space and time for it, be receptive, heed the directive to let go and let it guide me, I am richly rewarded. The result is always something surprising and often with deeper meaning than I knew going into it. And here’s the magical part, its meaning is not usually understood by me until AFTER the piece is completed and awareness begins to reveal its story to me.

Such was the case this morning when I set out with great enthusiasm to write a new blog about Autumn delivering an energetic time of creative harvest. Which included totally different images than the ones here. So what follows, (not at all what I’d planned) is what came to me while in the "zone" as I let go and was inspired and as has been true for me its meaning was not revealed consciously until the very end. So I'm trusting it and here goes . . .

Oil Painting by Glen Byron Eakin - 1961

My father painted this when I was 9 years old. It was accompanied by a sweet story he told of his childhood. As a young boy he and his father would rake up the fallen leaves in Autumn and build a fire to burn them and in the coals they had placed potatoes to cook. While they and their dog Skippy gaze into the flames in quiet satisfaction of their task complete and the anticipation of their delicious reward soon to come. It's a warm fairy tale image of an idyllic moment in the life of a child with his Father and beloved pet.

My Father was an accomplished artist in several mediums and taught oil painting. He lived his creative life from his wheelchair after polio robbed his ability to walk as a young man. He also was a writer and voracious reader and wrote mostly fiction. I've come to believe it was his fertile imagination's way of inventing the experiences in life he wished he'd had. This particular artistic expression seemed to be caring for his inner child as I was later to learn that his sweet story was a complete fabrication, I think except for his dog Skippy. I knew that Dad had a very rocky relationship with his Father and that the painting was likely wishful thinking of his past.

I have always loved this painting and that he gave it to me while he was still living. It has moved with me in all my years previous to my marriage and has been hanging in our home in Evergreen for 28 years. Now it hangs in my studio where I see it everyday.

Several years ago I painted a series of 3 nostalgic pieces quite unlike my usual style. They came as an inspired flurry completed in record time, all relating to my personal life experiences, all with a different story. My own fertile imagination painted this with a lot of emotion, not even thinking it was about MY dad.  After I completed this one the title and a little verse came to me as its meaning took shape.

"My Day with Dad" Pastel - Marjie Eakin-Petty

"My Day with Dad"
Some of us have had
Some of us wish we had
Some of us still can.

My relationship with my father was also very rocky as a child.  There were no idyllic childhood moments that I can recall. However, I am so grateful that in my late 20's he and I found some resolution to our differences and were able to then build a more functional and rewarding connection. I was in my early 40's when he died and I was relieved that we had made peace and actually had some later-in-life adventures together. Sunny days on his boat in San Francisco Bay - precious memories of my days with Dad (although his boat was a cruiser not a fishing boat).  I've always loved the saying "Its never too late to have a happy childhood" Even if you have to invent it through your creative expression as Dad and I did, 

Now Dad is part of the non-physical inspiring forces in my studio.  I have called upon him many times when I reach a challenging point in painting and ask him to help me. And he does. I loved that my childhood home was always filled with his colorful works of art, the pungent smell of turpentine and linseed oil and the sound of sporadic clattering of his old Smith-Corona typewriter emitting from his studio when working on a new play .

So I'm finding such delight in the process of letting go and letting inspiration lead me and trusting what comes, first in painting and now in writing. As I stepped away from writing this and walked through streams of early morning sun in my studio, I paused and looked into this warm light wondering why this inspiration came on this day, then it occurred to me; it's Dad's birthday today!  Oh of course!  Happy Birthday Dad and thanks for your visit and the inspiration  - always.

So, what do you suppose might be the gift inspiration has for you if you can let it go and let it FLOW?