Carrying a bag of seed on this adventure seemed a foolish thing. With the distance to be covered, what gardening did our hero have planned?
Every night before sleep, she would sit by the fire and speak to the bag and its contents.
She would word out her doubts, regrets, rages and misgivings. She would shout. Whisper. Whatever sound she could produce, and some nights it was little more than a whimper.
But she spoke her fears aloud and rested with dreams free from conflict.
Each morning after these nights, when it came time to break camp: she would remove one pip from the bundle in the bag and plant it where her head had just laid. She buried the solitary pip, and moved on.
Every night she does this and every day brings her closer to her goal.
When the day finally comes, when her destination is near, the bag will likely be empty.
Some might think the weight irrelevant in making any sort of efforts forward.
Freedom from the weight of a bagful of seeds won't make her noticeably lighter, but the burdens she buried with them can no longer keep her from flying.
You can fly too, if free from a forest of weight.
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