If it is a human thing to do to put something you want, because it’s
useful, edible, or beautiful, into a bag, or a basket, or a bit of rolled bark
or leaf, or a net woven of your own hair, or what have you, and then take
it home with you, home being another, larger kind of pouch or bag, a container
for people, and then later on you take it out and eat it or share it or
store it up for winter in a solider container or put it in the medicine bundle
or the shrine or the museum, the holy place, the area that contains what
is sacred, and then next day you probably do much the same again — if to
do that is human, if that’s what it takes, then I am a human being after all.
Fully, freely, gladly, for the first time.