“Three seeds,” Calliope blew her nose. “Do you think those seeds are us?”
Thalia dabbed at a tear running down her cheek — brought on by a tickle in her sinuses. “I don’t know why every time Typist gets a cold we all have to suffer. Ahhhhh-chooo!”
“Everything is connected,” said Nia, “There’s no separation between us and Typist. She sneezes, we sneeze right along with her.” Urania tossed another used tissue onto a growing pile next to the table.
“So the phrase above… They tried to bury us, they didn’t know we were seeds… has popped up in a few places over the last several days,” said Cal. “Every time we see it, I wonder who is the they, us, and we.”
“I’ve wondered, too,” Thalia said. “I suppose the friends who have shared the quote bring their own meaning to it? They, us, we… could be just about anyone? I did a little search and read the phrase is commonly referenced as a Mexican proverb — referencing oppressed and oppressors.”
“Interesting… Force is all conquering, but its victories are short lived — Abe Lincoln,” Nia chimed in. “What I’m wondering is… are the seeds outside of people? Or inside? Typist ignored us for years!”
“The seeds are us! Told you,” said Calliope. “People want to go and fix the world — which leads to all sorts of shenanigans. What if they stayed home and got to know their muses instead? Is what’s outside a reflection of what’s inside?”
Good lesson! You got me humming “This little light of mine” in response.