My granddad Bill (last seen on the political spectrum) had a life — and death — so extraordinarily harsh, and faced it with such breathtaking stoicism, just thinking of him tends to make me feel more honourable. When I am lacking, or being deprived of, essential dignity, I can hear him telling me to bear the brunt of the pain, or to honour the good that’s here too, or to not stand for it. Not that I always pay attention, or live up to his mighty standards — far from — but they’re here.
One of his mottos is a force for clarifying good. By itself it doesn’t hit the solution, no words can, but the following sentence still serves me as a reminder that, when facing problems, the ordinary thinking mode is the deepest self-indulgent futility, and it’s time to act.
It’s simple really:
All the worry in the world won’t change a thing.