pragmatism (noun)
“the quality of dealing with a problem in a sensible way that suits the conditions that really exist, rather than following fixed theories, ideas or rules” (dictionary.cambridge.org)
Putting the excellent online English dictionary from its University Press aside, Cambridge is relevant to this post for two further reasons: it’s home to the British Antarctic Survey and, from 1982 until 1995, it was my home, too.
Being close to such a prestigious academic centre meant we were often spoiled when it came to guest talks at our school, and I can remember some very impressive visitors standing at the front of the assembly hall with a slide projector and a table full of props for them to hold aloft, or – if we were lucky – to pass around between us.
An archaeologist lady brought in a fossil the size of a car steering wheel. A married seismologist couple who had narrowly survived the 1985 Mexico City earthquake came with a piece of the rubble their apartment building had been reduced to. And we were very impressed. But when the chap from the British Antarctic Survey came, he brought a tent, a flag and a dog sled. An actual dog sled. No dogs, but he had our full attention.
He was a great storyteller, too with some incredible tales of bravery and resourcefulness by explorers confronted with unimaginable cold and desolation. You’ll forgive me not recalling names, dates or specific events (this was junior school), but I do remember a general theme: a person or persons set out with a certain objective, met with terrifying complications that forced them to replan, then that plan was ruined so yet more improvisation was required, and so on, until finally they got where they were supposed to– or made it back alive to where they’d started, which by that point was deemed a success. Looking back, it’s very likely he described to us the expedition aboard The Endurance, the original Antarctic-mission-gone-wrong that turned into what National Geographic believe is still the greatest ever survival story due to Sir Ernest Shackleton’s determination to get his crew home safe.
Wondering how I’m going to tie this to golf? Read on. And I think it relates to mental health, too.
I was reminded of The Endurance when it appeared in an online article recently, and it got me thinking about survival tales generally, and why we like them. Because we clearly do: consider Gravity, The Martian, The Revenant and Everest, all blockbuster movies from the last decade or so, the middle pair based on novels that had already found success in their own right. And they share some common features beyond the bigger will they /won’t they make it questions hanging over their lead characters’ lives: their plots are driven by how those individuals adapt to changing circumstances, and the various risks or opportunities they present.
This turned my thoughts back to the first live PGA tournament I ever attended. There were plenty of the 300+ yard drives, laser-guided iron shots and incredible putts I’d expected to see, but in truth I was most amazed by how much time the pros spent in the trees, bushes, and worse, trying to recover after their last shot had gone wrong. Equally surprising was how much the crowd loved the scrappy stuff: as much, if not more, than the showreel skills.
All of which led me to a conclusion: we find great heroism in the ability to shake things up and switch course when required. Pragmatism is a superpower.
I then began wondering how many of us have experienced the feeling we’re not coping with the challenges life is throwing at us, while at the same time believing we should be able to cope with them? I expect it’s quite a few, and I’ve certainly been there, as explained in our very first blog post. That ‘should’ belief kept me grinding on and on, ignoring warning signs from brain and body, convinced that by sticking at it I would eventually get everything back under control, despite knowing deep down I couldn’t.
If you watched someone do the equivalent in a movie – plod further into a jungle with no indication the path will get easier, and suspicious an ambush might lie ahead – you’d be willing them to stop. You might even shout it at the screen. Yet in everyday life, when we’re weighed down with pressure and worry, so many of us just press onward and hope.
This isn’t the point where I make the clumsy suggestion we can all just stop what we’re doing at any time, have a break, jiggle things around a bit and all will be well. For many, the feeling you can’t change course could be the exact thing making you feel unhappy in the first place. But I hope most of us, if we were feeling low, could take the short time needed to read this guidance from the NHS and assess whether we might need some help.
Matt Damon didn’t get back from Mars without a lot of pragmatism. And he didn’t do it without help. Those who’ve seen the movie know his main challenge was working out how to ask for it.
