Before the Applause: The First Thing I Do When Joy Knocks

Before the Applause: The First Thing I Do When Joy Knocks

Amazing news rarely arrives politely. It does not knock and wait; it barges in—sometimes at dawn, sometimes between two ordinary sips of tea—and rearranges the furniture of the heart. It could be a long-awaited call, a message glowing on a small screen, or a sentence uttered so casually that it takes a moment to realise its weight. When such fantastic news arrives, people often imagine fireworks: loud calls, hurried sharing, instant celebration. Yet, if I am honest with myself, the very first thing I do is none of that.
I pause.

Yes, I pause—because joy, like grief, deserves a moment of silence.

Before the world is informed, before congratulations begins to pour in, I step back and allow the news to settle. I let it sink into the crevices of my being, the way rain seeps quietly into dry earth. In that pause, I listen to my own breath, suddenly lighter, suddenly grateful. It is my way of saying to life, I have received your gift.

That stillness is sacred. It protects the news from being diluted by noise or rushed into performance. In a world addicted to instant sharing, restraint becomes a form of respect. Not every joy needs an audience immediately; some joys need intimacy first.

Once the moment has settled, my thoughts instinctively turn inward—and upward. Gratitude follows pause as naturally as dawn follows night. I acknowledge the invisible hands that made this moment possible: the effort I put in, yes, but also the kindness of people, the mercy of time, the grace of circumstances, and often, the silent blessings that worked behind the scenes. I whisper a quiet thank you—to God, to destiny, to life itself—depending on the language my heart chooses that day.
Only after gratitude do I reflect.

Fantastic news is rarely isolated; it is usually the fruit of long seasons of waiting, failure, patience, and hope. I revisit those unseen chapters—the doors that closed, the nights of doubt, the small perseverance that went unnoticed. The good news then stops being just a happy ending; it becomes a meaningful continuation. Reflection turns excitement into wisdom.

Then comes the human instinct—to share.
But even here, I choose carefully. I reached out first to those who walked with me when the outcome was uncertain: the ones who listened without solutions, who believed when logic did not, who stayed when applause was absent. Sharing joy with them feels less like an announcement and more like completion of a circle. Their happiness adds weight to my own.

Celebration does come, eventually. Sometimes it is loud, sometimes understated—a smile held longer than usual, a cup of tea tasting inexplicably better, a song played on repeat. I have learnt that celebration need not be extravagant to be sincere. Contentment often wears simple clothes.

Finally, and perhaps most importantly, fantastic news humbles me. It reminds me that success is not a permanent address, only a passing milestone. Today’s miracle can become tomorrow’s memory if not handled with grace. So I try to remain grounded, aware that life has its rhythm—rises and falls, applause and silence—and both are teachers in their own way.
So what do I do first when amazing news arrives?

I pause.
I give thanks.
I reflect.
I share thoughtfully.

And only then do I celebrate.
Because joy, when treated gently, lasts longer—and when welcomed wisely, it deepens the soul rather than merely exciting it.

In that first quiet moment, before the world knows, I allow myself to feel it fully. And that, I have realised, is the truest celebration of all.