Wherever I go, I always take the stones I carry in me. These are all-all my memories, everything I remember and think about that prevents me from sleeping well at night or during the day. It's always stabbing and churning, getting in the way. It is heavy in my hands. The whole cage is full of those stones, and they rattle when I go upstairs to my new home. It hurts, and I'm used to it.
Because I can leave everything in my old house, except for those stones, which I have to carry with me. And I can't talk about those stones, because no one would want to hear it.
But over time, the stones turn into gold, they are melted down.
There is an internal alchemy going on. Transformation. Gold stones become lighter, rise into the air and shine. This can be achieved through meditation.