Colton had entered one of his spray-paint galaxies in a community art show.
The results would be announced on Friday, which was several days away. Colton understood this perfectly.
His imagination did not.
On Thursday morning, he stepped onto an overturned wooden crate in his backyard and held a paintbrush above his head like a trophy. His spray-paint cans had been arranged in a semicircle before him.
“Thank you,” he began. “This is completely unexpected.”
It was not unexpected. Colton had already practiced the speech twice.
He thanked his family, his art teacher, and the mysterious silver spray can whose label had disappeared months ago.
“You always believed in me,” Colton told it.
The silver can remained humble.
Colton bowed to his audience. One black can leaned slightly to the side, which made it appear unconvinced by the entire ceremony.
Then Colton caught sight of his galaxy painting on the easel. Purple clouds swirled around bright stars, while three painted planets floated in the darkness.
He smiled.
For a moment, the pretend contest disappeared. He remembered how the colors had surprised him when they blended together and how an accidental streak of white had become the brightest comet in the picture.
The proud feeling remained.
That was interesting because Colton had not won anything. No judge had announced his name. There was no ribbon, no trophy, and no applause beyond the faint rattle of a spray can rolling across the drop cloth.
Yet his excitement was completely real.
The feeling was not waiting inside Friday’s announcement. It was coming alive within him through Thought and Consciousness right then. Thinking about the contest had created one experience. Looking at what he had made created another. Both had arrived before the result.
Seeing this did not mean Colton stopped hoping to win. Winning would be fun, and he had already prepared an unusually thorough speech.
It simply showed him that the contest was not holding all his pride until Friday. The good feeling was being created now, in the same place every experience comes to life.
Colton stepped down from the crate and returned the paintbrush to the table.
Then he glanced at the silver can.
“I’ll still mention you,” he promised.
After all, a good acceptance speech should never waste excellent material.
Have you ever felt the joy or excitement of something before it actually happened?
0 comments