Picture a beach. A vast beach, over 16 miles wide and 400 yards deep. With warm salt water on one edge and endless dunes on the other. Blue sky above, intense sun delivering steady heat. A particular grain of sand somehow finds itself "woke" to its own existence. Immediately it sets itself upon a quest of comparative observation as it attempts to find and understand itself and the context it is suddenly conscious of being within.
An initial look does not determine much measurable difference between itself and surrounding other grains of sand. As the days pass the air sometimes moves with sufficient force to move this grain to a new location on the for-all-intent-and-purposes endless beach. At other times this grain stays put but finds that others have been blown in as new immediate neighbor grains.
Most times there is little-to-no apparent difference observed between itself and others. Oh sure, some slight variation in size perhaps, some darker or lighter in color tone, some smoother, some rougher but all-in-all nothing that would stop a normal grain of sand in it's tracks.
But there were occasions when a noticeably unique neighbor would appear next to this searching piece of sand. Sometimes a pebble with a hardness that was impressive. Other times a miniature piece of bright diamond or a fleck of gold glinting in the sun would catch the sand's inner eye with a startle. Though rare, there were definite sand-sized pieces of amazingness out there and what was that all about?
Mostly our grain was in a dry patch of beach. But every once in a while the warm ocean waters would swell to an extent that the water would reach the sand grains position. At such times the immediate area would be flooded by warm saltiness. Sometimes there would also be bits and pieces of foreign objects washed in next to the the grain that made little to no sense to the grains way of sand- thinking. The foreign objects were of such different composition that they were ultimately dismissed as being merely random interruptions in an otherwise sameness. Just as being soaked by water brought no long lasting change neither did these 'foreigners'. They were here today but gone tomorrow.
The 'woke-ness' of this grain of sand posed definite problems when it came to peace and contentment. For indeed, there was a restlessness that seemed to come from an actual desire to find individual meaning and understanding that were relevant to this specific grain of sand, Although appreciably the same as mostly all the neighbor grains that came in contact, there were those occasional notable exceptions. But what did they mean? What were they to this grain of sand? Why did wetness do nothing but momentarily change the outside surface? Was there any unique purpose there to be discovered within the "woke-ness" of this sand grain?
Deep consideration of all this brought only an empty, unsettling sense within the grain. What good was all this "woke-ness" and self-efforts at deducing the state of affairs of it's own existence? Just what value was this providing to this poor, old, self-inquiring sand grain? Alas, if sand were ever to be pitied, now would be a good time to begin.
After a long passage of what the grain had heard was called "time", there simply were no new insights as to anything that could even remotely be called a purpose, a direction, a specific calling or even a permanent home. Gradually, the "woke" state of the sand grain diminished. At last, with all "wokeness" nearly gone, the sand grain arrived at some conclusions. Alas, it's destiny did not appear to include being an amazing, standout grain that would command the accolades of the beach. This search had opened the grain to the possibility that this beach the grain found itself part of was no random accident.
Somewhere, somehow, there must be a Beach Master. The grain could make no sense of a spontaneous beach, warm sun and salty waters. Perhaps this season of "wokeness" had been a simple gift to the grain, an opportunity to see what was normally invisible. That the grain was not merely pure chance. That although the beach seemed massive, the grain was an intentional part. That the Beach Master had intended for this grain to exist and do it's part, however small, to make this beach what it was.
So, as the time of "wokeness" came to a final close, the grain found itself returning to simply being. To letting go of the comparative introspection and the vain hope of finding some sort of superiority. There was a sense that a simple surrender was in order. A surrender to the dignified humility of being one in many with no need of being found special enough to garner any unique attention. And that surrender brought the sweetest sense of peace and of well-being.
The grain rested as the sun set below the horizon. Rested in the comfort of being a "kept" grain that found itself an intentional part of a wonderful beach. The period of "wokeness" had been good and worthwhile but this settled sense of being seemed so right. And such is the way the sand grain abides...to this very day.
