Today, there are awards and prizes galore announced for people from all walks of life for achievements and contributions. They come attached with varying esteem, prestige, worth or value. For some it is a moment under a spotlight and soon to be forgotten. For some others, it opens new doors. For a few lucky ones, awards set them up for life – money, fame, opportunities, and uncritical acclaim for even the ordinary.

For some it is just recognition, and for others it is too little, too late.

Social media feeds news about events and recipients with unfailing regularity. Everyone is hailing someone. There is much to claim credit for too. Old photos featuring winners appear with alacrity. A selfie with the winner is even better. Then there is the race to be the first with the news, the first with the exclusives and the scoops.

For a brief while, a number of people feel important – family, friends, teachers, classmates, driver, plumber, street-corner paanwala – sought after, bombarded with questions repeated ad nauseum, breathlessly. The further back in time the association goes, the better.

The point I want to come to is the winners and their reactions, their acceptance speeches – impromptu or prepared. First there are those who shake and shiver, sometimes covering their mouths, afraid perhaps of dentures that might drop off in the moment. Then there are those cool dudes who don’t want the attention or the distraction because they have to get to work. Some are surprised, in a ‘why me, why now?’ sort of way. Then there are those who can’t help but talk about their lifetime’s work, that most viewers / readers can never understand.

The proliferation of awards has, I suspect, spawned an acceptance speech writing career option, a super-specialisation in this era of ghost-writing, smart-ass copywriting and tweeting. You see, it is not enough to just be happy that your work has been recognised. It is not enough that you are grateful to a multitude of people in your life. You have to emote. You have to get your angles right. You have to get your lines right. The cameras are on you, lest you forget. It is not enough that your life, your work, your contributions and accomplishments are your message. Getting familiar with all that would take too much time and would be asking for too much… Kinda boring. So the ask perhaps is: give us your message for the people. You have one, two and five minute sound-byte lengths that you need to tailor your message to. You have to alternate between happy and grave, and be profound.

A couple of other matters.

More and more, winners launch into how blessed they are with the people and opportunities that came their way. Understandable. No one is an island.

But, what’s with this thing about being ‘humbled’? Many winners mention this. First, the usage. Very odd. What does it even mean? That they have somehow been defeated by the award announcement even if they are the winner? That in their moment of pride when under the spotlight, they remind themselves to be humble? (faux humility goes down well with people?). Or are they suddenly feeling small, reminded of the giants in their area of expertise who walked before them? Is it a way of reminding themselves that success is a milestone and that there are ‘miles to go’ before they ‘sleep’?

Or is ‘feeling humble’ really about the awe and wonder at the entire process of ‘arriving’, as you step back, take a deep breath, reckon with all that has gone in across time, and touch something that is in you, beyond you, far more magnificent than all your accomplishments – the blessing of the life force that created you, shaped you, sustained you. In touch with that, you are neither small and insignificant nor defeated, just awakened to the vastness of the universe, the boundless life force and the Intelligence that pervades all things, living or inanimate. You awaken to the the vanity of man thinking that it is he who is the Creator. You touch humility.

Image from GetDrawings.

This post originally appeared on my LinkedIn page.