Group interactions validate experiences. The individual, finding their night clothes on backwards, knows there has been a visitation, but secretly wonders if perhaps their memory might be failing. In a group of contactees a synergy takes place, first one and then another realizing, as others tell their tales, that they are not alone in their experiences. Within the contact group details are shared that have not appeared in print, could not therefore be faked, and are told with much emotion and conviction. When these details, told by another, match the listener's story - more than sharing takes place, and more than an Awakening takes place. A Transformation takes place. The Contact Group is now a group of humans who are no longer toying with an idea, no longer arguing with each other, but are facing the reality of the Transformation calmly, with open eyes and open minds and most often with open hearts. Thereafter, walking among others out in society, everything looks different. The frantic push to live better than the Jones, the focus on the World Series, the chatter about the SETI project - all are put into a different perspective.
It is as though all of humanity were in a trench and could not look out except for a few who stand tall. Those too short to see behave as though all that matters takes place in the trench, in their own little world. Those few tall enough to be glimpsing beyond know better, but can do little more than look at each other and smile at the ignorance and short sightedness around them. Such it is with members of Contact Groups, who find they can only talk honestly among themselves.
There is a Transformation going on, a personal Transformation, but no less important in the scheme of things. Great dunes are built from many grains of sand, and eventually the collective consciousness is such that this transformative momentum begins to affect society. Ideas presented at the table receive support rather than argument. Programs that affect the public are slanted toward the broader view in subtle ways. The little grains of sand are making mounds, where no one has noticed, as the wind blew them just a few at a time.