The Lore of Deetle Deetle Dighnt Dighnt, Dighnt Deetle Dee...

 

🌍 The Three Villages

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Long before borders or formal language, there were three villages on the edge of the known world: Deetle, Dighnt, and Dee. Each village had its flaws. But together, they stayed in balance.

 

What made them extraordinary wasn’t just how they lived—but how quickly they grew. People carried their stories, habits, and names out into the world. When new cities rose, whispers followed:

Everyone comes from one of the three—whether they know it or not.

From Deetle came dreamers artists, wanderers—those whose passions had no clear finish line.

From Dighnt came builders, rulers and record-keepers, —those who gave shape to the world.

From Dee came the quiet ones—thinkers, listeners,  keepers of things no one else saw.

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Most people today carry pieces of all three:

A spark of Deetle to begin.
A dose of Dighnt when life falls apart.
A whisper of Dee when nothing needs to be said.

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Though the villages are gone—their spirits linger in how we move, love, and carry what’s been passed down.
 

And still, when something odd happens, someone might murmur,

“That’s Deetle again.”
And others will quietly nod.

 

I Won’t Remove the Valises

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One still night on a train, Gary sat across from a man with weathered leather valises on the seat next to him.

The conductor appeared.
“Remove the valises off of the seat,” he snapped.

 

The man hesitated—not from defiance, but from some quiet knowing.
He softly sang:

“Deetle Deetle Dighnt Dighnt, Dighnt Deetle Dee,
I won’t remove the valises off of the seat.”

 

The conductor demanded again,
“I said, Remove the valises off of the seat right now.”

 

The man repeated his song:

“Deetle Deetle Dighnt Dighnt, Dighnt Deetle Dee,
I won’t remove the valises off of the seat.”

 

The conductor, visibly frustrated, threw the valises from the train—some burst open, others just vanished into motion. The train kept going.

 

“You see what happens when you don’t listen!” shouted the conductor.

T

he man simply sang:

“Deetle Deetle Dighnt Dighnt, Dighnt Deetle Dee,
those valises don’t belong to me.”

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Later

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Gary wrote everything down.
Hee told the others.
They laughed at the word valises. Who says that anymore?

 

Except Goober, always analyzing.

He looked at the page and said:
“They’re not just valises. They’re burdens. The kind that aren’t even ours to carry.”

And everyone understood.

 

Otto's stoicism reminded him that not every space needs to be filled, and not every discomfort needs a reaction.
 

Stuart, usually silly, saw the valises as "fancy bags with emotional zippers.”

Goober's lovable nerdiness saw the valises as unclaimed variables that never asked to be downloaded.”
 

Gary always reasonable wondered, 

so, what does it mean?

You’re not responsible for everything.
You didn’t pack those bags.
You didn’t cause the commotion.
It’s not your fault the valises are there.

 

The Phrases

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“Deetle Deetle Dighnt Dighnt, Dighnt Deetle Dee,
I won’t remove the valises off of the seat.”

And the follow up:

“Deetle Deetle Dighnt Dighnt, Dighnt Deetle Dee,
those valises don’t belong to me.”

Became their incantation, their boundary:

Not refusal so much as clarity.
Not everything is yours to solve.
Strength isn’t in carrying it all.
It’s in remembering who you are.

The valises may always be there.
But you don’t have to carry them.

 

The Awakening of the Five

Walking Toward Three

    ​ W

​Gary found a journal at a yard sale, buried under scratched CDs and rusted tools.
Its cracked leather cover read:

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“You Are Five, Walking Toward Three:

Deetle, Dighnt, and Dee"

 

At first they were four:

Gary, Otto, Stuart and Goober

But they weren’t complete until Ne’er arrived.

He stormed in, loud and intense.
“What about the valises?! Who’s going to deal with them? You think this train runs itself?”

 

Gary answered,
“We’re not touching them.”

“Why not?” Ne’er demanded.

Goober replied:
“Because they’re not ours.”

Ne’er paused.
Saw the journal.
Saw the chalk-scrawled mantra:

“Deetle Deetle Dighnt Dighnt, Dighnt Deetle Dee,
those valises don’t belong to me,”

And something in him softened.
Not much.
But enough.

 

Ne’er was always fire—not to burn, but to guard.
He didn’t trust stillness.
He didn’t understand surrender.
But he was trying to protect something unnamed.

The others saw—he wasn’t outside the rhythm.
He was part of it.
 

Ne’er was the fifth direction—Aggressive, sharp, urgent, essential. 

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“You Are Five, Walking Toward Three:

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Deetle taught them to dream.
Dighnt taught them to build.
Dee taught them thoughfulness.

 

They weren’t here to save the world.

They were here to remember it.

To live the rhythm.
To dance.
To build.
To rest.

 

And to say—

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"Those Valises Don’t Belong To Me,”
I won’t remove them.
I won’t throw them.
I won’t carry what was never mine.”

Not because they didn’t care.
But because they did.

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The Meaning of the Phrase

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“Deetle Deetle Dighnt Dighnt, Dighnt Deetle Dee,
I won’t remove the valises off of the seat.”

Together, they mirror a life cycle:
Dream. Build. Think. Begin again.

Then comes the line that reclaims identity:
“I won’t remove the valises off of the seat.”
It means:

• I am not here to carry everything.

• I didn’t place these burdens.

• I won’t be made responsible for what isn’t mine.

 

It’s not coldness.
It’s clarity.
It’s a return to the self.

 

So when the world gets loud,
When burdens crowd your seat,
When the conductor shouts at you—
Say it softly:

 

“Deetle Deetle Dighnt Dighnt, Dighnt Deetle Dee,
those valises don’t belong to me”

 

And somehow,
the train keeps moving.
And somehow,
that’s enough.