IT’S not often that an experience humbles you to the point where you can’t sleep, but that’s the effect meeting Gordon Aikman had on me.

I met the Motor Neurone Disease (MND) campaigner, who died on Friday at the age of 31, just over a year ago when I interviewed him at home with his husband Joe Pike for a feature in the Herald Magazine. As a journalist you prepare yourself for jobs like this, of course. I knew Gordon had had MND for 18 months by this stage and that the condition would have taken its toll on him physically and psychologically; I knew he was in a wheelchair and had lost the use his hands. If I’m honest I was prepared for a sad, downbeat and rather difficult hour of conversation.

What I didn’t expect was how entertaining, inspiring and utterly enjoyable spending time with Gordon and Joe would be, two young men very much in love, riffing off each other with humour, intelligence and depth about the truly terrible situation they found themselves in.

There were, of course, points in the conversation that were indeed unbearably sad, especially since Gordon faced his mortality with such genuine and uncommon bravery. But what kept me awake that night after meeting him was the thought of how he’d chosen to spend his remaining time: masterminding a successful campaign for others with MND.

Gordon’s Fightback has so far raised more than £530,000 for MND causes by catching the public imagination: many will remember the day, just before the independence referendum, when bitter political rivals Alex Salmond and Alistair Darling both got soaked for the cause to the delight of everyone in Scotland, whether you supported a Yes or No vote.

But in my view what really makes Gordon’s effort outstanding is the way he approached working for change. He had worked in politics before his diagnosis, of course, for Scottish Labour and Better Together, and had a good knowledge of public affairs. What’s so remarkable, however, was his ability to focus on the things he could change rather than the things he couldn't.

Gordon knew that although they wouldn't help him, one day treatments and even a cure might be found for this cruellest of diseases, and he raised research funds to that end. But he wasn’t content with this; he fought for the here and now, using his voice even as it faded due to the ravages of MND. All the hard work paid off when First Minister Nicola Sturgeon accepted that the NHS should take responsibility for specialist MND nurses and doubled of their number. The real and lasting change this makes to the quality of care given to MND patients simply cannot be underestimated. In his own way, Gordon changed the world.

I thought of this heroic effort at the weekend after a night out with friends when we’d sat around a pub table bemoaning the current state of the world. We’d talked about Donald Trump, of course, Brexit, and the rise of division and intolerance. We discussed at length the grim economic and intellectual position these events might leave us in and could find nothing positive to say; we ended up drowning our sorrows in disgust. I went home feeling thoroughly wretched about a whole load of things I have no control over.

But as I tried to sleep that night, Gordon kept me up. He knew that his disease would kill him, that he wouldn’t live to see any new treatments, that there was nothing he could do about the cruel hand fate had dealt him. Despite this, he found the determination and focus to campaign for practical, measurable change.

Don't get me wrong, Gordon's tenacity seemed to go beyond what most of us can imagine being capable of. But I tend to think we can all find reserves of strength, commitment and downright bloodymindedness when we put our minds to it, that we are all capable of being superhuman, even if it's only for a short time and even if no one other than those around us know of our efforts.

And with this in mind perhaps we should force ourselves to look away from the geopolitical car crash, at least for a while, and put some energy into the smaller stuff. We may not be able to do much about Trump but maybe with just a tenth of the tenacity shown by Gordon we can use our time, effort and skills do something useful for our families, friends and communities, whether that's picking up litter, volunteering at a sports club or simply providing a shoulder to cry on. In my experience positivity not only breeds positivity, but also brings purpose and comfort when things seem bleak.

Next time I feel overwhelmed by things I'll try to think of Gordon; his life, and indeed his death, are an example to us all.