The inner self is a plant deep within your flesh. Somewhere between your mind and your spirit lies a seed that is yet to be cultivated.

When I walk outside, I realize how important the inside of my home is compared to the outside I am now sitting on my"smoking" chair, realizing that several pieces of trash are strown across my yard, as if they have washed ashore after a violent storm. As I sit paralyzed, procrastinating the very thought of physical labor, something from out of nowhere creeps its way into my thought peripheral. "My house is a mess!" That's when the metaphorical connection between this instant in my life and my food for thought clicked in that gray area of my life. I'm more inclined to pay attention to the inside of my house, because that is where my treasure lies. That is where the root of my life sustains the outer limbs of my existence. One limb branches out and symbolizes my family. Another branches out to represent my friends. The last, a thickened rough stick of knotty wood, is my job. The inside of my house, through careful observation and pristine care and attentiveness, allows me to embark into my outer worldly journeys, always in the comfort and satisfaction of knowing that my little home awaits me always. Now, when i apply that same principle in my life, I realize that the inner part of my soul is my sanctuary and my outer flesh is my transportaion into the unknown.