At the Bottom of the Pile

There lived a community inside of an hourglass in constant strain of the passage of time. Life passed through the tiny sieve constant and ceaseless. At the bottom, a community worked at their job to process the ever growing pile of time and need. The demands of those they helped flowed constantly down to them in each grain of sand, and they could only pick through it with sticks. The sticks were fine at first; it was the best that they knew.

But as the time passed longer and the pile around them of need grew into an even more daunting mountain, the sticks that once served them well before were proving inadequate. All of time changes into growth; we cannot pull at a higher demand with the tools of a smaller task. In the times of rest that were allowed, the workers rested to soak up their water and lament the inadequacies of their sticks. What could be done, sadly? The sticks were all they were given.

So one particular worker thought about this problem. They saw the frustrated lamentations of their colleagues and more so felt it within themselves, for the plight was theirs as well. The same stick the same task, the same urgency, and the same time in which to do it all. What wasn’t the same: the willingness to accept that there wasn’t something better or the complacency to wait.

That worker spent their time at the water not in rest, but in movement. That water could work to mold their mountain into easier elements to shift. Loose sand versus packed. The needs of shifting their ever-growing monument were still being met, but better now with just a little extra thought to fixing, not waiting. The effort others took to lament and rise in anger over their outdated tools were spent by this worker to build better shovels.

And thus better tools were made. Better shovels borne of the independent thought of this worker and distributed around. And the shovels were better both for the efficiency of the sand and the workers set to deal with the sand.

And yet, the workers scoffed at the new shovels for the wood felt different from their sticks, and though the sticks caused more work, change was resisted. Though efficiency was better, it was all agreed, the change was begrudgingly adapted to. Thus the sand was moved easier, and the team progressed in better light.

The hands that tilted the hourglass and the eyes that oversaw looked at the big picture happy with the improvement. Bravo, team. Keep up the good work. This team did such a good job making these shovels work.

The worker who made the shovel was happy with the praise of the team, they guessed. It was nice to know something worked better. But all the time that they took to make the shovels better for the team shifted sand to their pile. Work harder, the sand still had to be tended to. Someday this worker would shine in individuality and get a chance for better compensation.

Right?

There’s a better part of the hourglass available just ready for the right progressive! The worker dreamed of what that could mean. No more dipping into savings to make ends meet. Maybe a bigger house as their boys were growing more and more. Heck, maybe finally getting to go to that vacation they have dreamt of for almost seven years.

Oh, not this time? They need to keep those shoveling sand where they are? Ok, they supposed. Their star shined still, right? That’s what they said, right? Good things are coming, right? The savings would last that long, shouldn’t it? The appreciation would be that much more worth it, wouldn’t it?

While I am proud of my shovel, I can only keep at this so long. While I appreciate the encouragement when it comes, I can only hear “you weren’t selected,” so many times before the divide between what I’m told and what time proves swallows me up.

I cannot change the nature within me to lift others up; it is so much a part of me that I cannot imagine myself without it. But the more others are lifted from the work I do at the bottom before I get some reward to stand upon myself, the more I will be flattened into nothing.

So forward it is, for I know of no other way. I cannot go back, I will not go back, and I cannot stay here. The only fear is…will I last?

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Thank you to my sister, Laina, for this birthday gift that is helping me through this tough time. I highly recommend this!