Aphorisms

 I can’t remember how old I was when I looked up the word aphorism in the dictionary and wondered why it wasn’t a word I knew, despite living with an expert aphorist. 

My dad had a short, pithy, often witty or rhyming phrase ready for every situation. 

Most were designed to breed resilience. A quick ‘suck it up and move on’ reminder. In the face of these linguistic gems it was impossible to give up. More and more often I find myself with my Dad’s voice in my head seconds before the words erupt from my own mouth. 

“It’s not the cough that’ll carry you off. It’s the coffin they’ll carry you off in,” puzzles every child that coughs in my face. 

“Don’t let the bastards grind you down,” pops out often when I’m talking to colleagues that have had a bad day.  Sometimes, if everything feels hopeless I remind them that working is like being in prison and as they said in Porridge, you have to look for the little wins. And I’ll say, “Little wins, Godber, little wins.”

And it goes on. Mostly, these are phrases I aim at myself. 

“Never complain, never explain,” when I make a mistake, which is so hard when something has gone wrong. When playing the church piano has turned into the nightmare where you are actually sitting naked in front of a whole congregation looking stupid, you want to explain but, “Empty vessels make the most noise.” Then, as I start to spiral and consider setting light to the piano, “Hon i soit qui mal y pense,” and I am filled with shame for my evil thought. 

Sleepless nights, shame and embarrassment follow and I really do want to explain that a piano that suddenly refuses to play notes is a tricky beast but, “ A bad workman blames his tools.” I argue with the voice in my head. I tell it that sometimes the tool is bad which is even harder for a bad workman like me. 

“Don’t say sorry unless you mean it!” The voice says and I want to argue that I am sorry but I know therein lies a madness loop. 

“You’ll eat a bushel full of dirt before you die,” randomly appears to break the sorry cycle and I breathe waiting to start a perfectly fine day.