The Reward Is the Doing

Are we done with awards?

Think about it — the Emmys, the Oscars, all of them. If you’re a fan of the shows and the movies, sure, you’ll tune in. But when everything is good, when everything you watch hits a certain level, who actually cares anymore? We’re not fighting over scraps of greatness. We’re swimming in it.

Maybe we’re finally just enjoying things for ourselves — not because someone else said we should, not because it won a trophy, not because a panel of strangers declared it “the best.” Maybe we’re learning to live without needing other people’s validation just to like what we like.

And the funny thing is, if you don’t enjoy the same things as me?

Good. That’s the whole point. Live your life. Let me live mine.

But here’s the real problem with awards:

where there are winners, there are losers.

And there doesn’t have to be.

There’s room for all of us. There always has been. Yes, we should still recognize the ones who jump higher, shoot farther, think deeper, build better — the ones who chase something the rest of us didn’t even notice. I love celebrating doers. I admire doers. I am one. And when I praise someone, I prefer to do it with words — words that honour the effort, the beauty, the rigor, the risk. Words that reflect the truth of the work, not a gold statue pretending to explain it.

Because doers don’t need awards.

Their reward is the doing.

That moment when they’re in it — in the work, in the flow, in the obsession — that feeling is the real prize. That’s where the joy is. That’s where the validation lives. Doers don’t sit around waiting for applause. They’re already busy doing the next thing.

That’s why awards were never really for them.

Awards are for everyone else.

For the spectators.

For the dreamers who never started.

For the ones who want to feel close to greatness without paying the cost of effort.

And for a long time, that made sense. Most people never had the chance to do. Resources were limited. Access was limited. Knowledge was locked behind doors you weren’t allowed to walk through.

But that’s not the world anymore.

Information is cheap. Tools are everywhere. Platforms are open. More people are creating, making, expressing, building. More people are stepping into the role of the doer. And when you’ve had even one taste of making something real — something you built from scratch, something you put your soul into — you stop caring about trophies. Because you already know what real validation feels like.

More doers means fewer people who need the illusion of a prize.

So maybe awards have simply served their purpose. Maybe they’re relics from a time when only a few people were allowed to create. Maybe we’re finally realizing that appreciation doesn’t need to be a competition.

If you want to honour someone’s work?

Bring them on stage.

Say, “We love you. We appreciate you. Thank you.”

Let them take a bow.

Then send them back to their seat so we can all get back to enjoying the thing we came for.

Art isn’t a race.

Effort isn’t a scoreboard.

Creation isn’t a contest.

Maybe awards will come and go.

But the doers? We’ll still be doing.