Xavier wiped sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand. The sun was high and bright, buzzing against his skin like a warm lamp. Even the driveway looked like it was sweating, little shimmers of heat dancing above the cracked concrete.
It was Saturday morning, and he’d agreed to help his cousin Colton pull weeds and fix the loose boards on the backyard fence. Not exactly his idea of an epic weekend, but he liked hanging out with Colton. Plus, Papa promised them ice cream after they finished, and that pretty much sealed the deal.
Colton was kneeling in the flower bed nearby, yanking at a stubborn tangle of dandelions. His hands were already stained green, fingernails packed with dirt. But he was unusually quiet. Normally, Colton was full of chatter. Like how many marshmallows he could stuff into his mouth at once, which was nine, or how he was sure the neighbor’s cat was actually a tiny lion in disguise.
Xavier dropped a handful of weeds into the rusty wheelbarrow, the leaves crackling as they landed. He studied Colton for a second, then said, “You’re awfully quiet over there, Captain Marshmallow. Everything okay?”
Colton didn’t look up. He just shrugged, tugged at another weed. “Yeah. Just… thinking.”
Xavier plopped down in the grass. It was warm and a little scratchy against his arms. He picked up a twig and started peeling the bark off with his thumb. “Thinking about what?”
Colton let the weed drop from his hand and sat back on his heels. His shoulders slumped. “Family stuff. I’ve been hearing Mom and Dad whispering a lot lately. I think they’re worried about money. I try not to listen, but it’s hard. And… I don’t like seeing Mom upset.”
Xavier nodded, feeling a little tug in his chest. “Yeah, that’s tough.”
He twirled the twig between his fingers, the wood leaving tiny flakes on his skin. Then he leaned forward. “Can I ask you something?”
Colton blew out a breath that ruffled the hair on his forehead. “Sure.”
“When you start feeling all worried, what are you actually picturing in your head?”
Colton squinted. “I dunno. Like… us losing the house. Or Mom crying all the time. Or… or maybe having to eat nothing but spinach forever because it’s cheap.”
Xavier made a face. “Yikes. That is terrifying. Spinach is practically a leafy green horror movie.”
Colton gave a tiny smile and a chuckle.
“But,” Xavier went on, “do you see how none of that’s actually happening right now? I mean, look around. We’re just two sweaty kids in the sun, pulling up weeds. Your mom’s inside, probably making that lemon iced tea she likes. Your dad’s hammering something in the garage. Right now, nothing bad’s going on, except maybe to these weeds.”
Colton pulled a blade of grass and rolled it between his fingers. “So… you’re saying I’m just making it all up?”
“Not like lying on purpose,” Xavier said. “More like your brain’s painting scary pictures, and they feel like they’re real, even though they’re not.
It happens to me too. Once I thought Papa was gonna ground me forever because I accidentally broke his tape measure. I spent a whole afternoon hiding behind the shed. Turns out, he didn’t even care. He just laughed and said he needed a new one anyway.”
Colton’s smiled. “That’s kinda funny.”
“It is funny. Our brains are weird like that. They show us scary movies that aren’t true. But if you notice it’s just a movie in your head, the Scary isnt so scary.”
For a while they just sat there. Bees buzzed lazily around the honeysuckle vine, and the warm breeze carried the sweet smell of cut grass mixed with earth. Somewhere down the block, a lawn mower rumbled, then stopped with a sputter.
Finally, Colton stood up and brushed the dirt off his knees. “Well… maybe next time my brain starts showing me a scary movie, I’ll just change the channel. Maybe to ice cream.”
Xavier jumped up and patted him on the back. “Solid plan. Anything’s better than spinach.”
They got back to work, and soon the wheelbarrow was heaped high with weeds, like a giant green salad for a dinosaur. When they finally finished, Papa came through the squeaky gate holding two enormous ice cream cones. The chocolate was already dripping down the sides.
“Hard workers get the biggest scoops!” Papa said with a grin.
Colton took his cone and his eyes went wide. “Thanks, Papa!” He licked the cold ice cream, shivering a little when it touched his tongue. Then he nudged Xavier. “Best channel ever, huh?”
Xavier grinned back. “Way better than leafy horror movies.”
Three Principles in Action
1. Mind: Colton’s inner wisdom was there all along, like a quiet friend waiting for him to notice. When Xavier gently asked him questions, it gave Colton a chance to slow down and hear his own common sense, instead of just his worried thoughts.
2. Consciousness: Colton’s worries felt real because Consciousness brings our thoughts to life. His mind was showing him vivid pictures of losing the house or his mom being sad all the time—so of course it felt scary, even though none of it was actually happening.
3. Thought: Thought was like a paintbrush in Colton’s hand, creating those scary scenes in his mind. Once he realized that, he saw he could paint something else instead—like hanging out in the sun, pulling weeds, and ending the day with melty chocolate ice cream.
Final Thought
Isn’t it wild how we can scare ourselves with nothing more than our own imagination? Lucky for us, the same imagination that can turn spinach into a monster can also make ice cream into the hero. Turns out, being human is pretty funny that way.
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