I love a good challenge. A fellow author and friend posted a thought-provoking poem some years back. Her powerful words took my mind places. I found myself nodding, resonating and in awe. Later I learned the poem was a directed template, but the kind of template that accommodates clever turns of phrase, and vivid imagery.

So moved was I by my friend’s elegy that I created my own from that same template. In my upcoming book, Q-Thartik; Unlock the Sovereignty of Your Mind, I emphasize knowing who you are. If you don’t know who you are, you don’t know what drives you, or why you make certain choices. If you don’t know who you are, you don’t know where you end and someone else begins. You don’t know what thoughts belong to your parents, professor, or your boss and which belong to you, and possibly the Spirit of Truth. Without self-awareness, you don’t know why you want what you want. And while this template is not one of the exercises in the book, it’s still a great place to begin.

Collectively, we’re five years past a life-changing event. If you haven’t attempted this fill-in-the-blank poem, it seems very simple at first glance. Pretty soon it should have you digging into your roots, your own mind, and maybe the old photo album to pull out answers. Who are you? What is imprinted on you? What stories and people do you remember? What details stick with you?

As we mature, we see the bigger tapestry that our lives are a part of. If you have done Where I’m From before, it seems like a good time to revisit your history and what makes you You. Maybe what matters now has changed. How can where you’re from reflect lessons, people, and events that you cherish and choose to remember? Using a different life event as a focal point, how do your answers and memories shift? Will you share details from only childhood, teen years, your whole life? As a single person or as a parent? Feel free to share you poems or your thoughts in the comments at the end of this post.

Get your free I Am From template here.

“Where I’m From” by George Ella Lyon

I am from clothespins,
from Clorox and carbon-tetrachloride.
I am from the dirt under the back porch.
(Black, glistening it tasted like beets.)
I am from the forsythia bush,
the Dutch elm
whose long gone limbs I remember
as if they were my own.
I am from fudge and eyeglasses,
from Imogene and Alafair.
I’m from the know-it-alls
and the pass-it-ons,
from perk up and pipe down.
I’m from He restoreth my soul
with cottonball lamb
and ten verses I can say myself.
I’m from Artemus and Billie’s Branch,
fried corn and strong coffee.

From the finger my grandfather lost to the auger
the eye my father shut to keep his sight.
Under my bed was a dress box spilling old pictures,
a sift of lost faces
to drift beneath my dreams.
I am from those moments—
snapped before I budded—
leaf-fall from the family tree.

I hope you’ll take a little time to remember where you came from so you can be proud of how far you’ve come. You’re still here! I, for one, am glad you are. Special thanks to faithful followers Rick, Mike and DirtySciFiBuddha and fellow author and friend, Karyl.

Thanks for coming by and I look forward to seeing you again soon. Until next time, shalom!