Discomfort in comfort aboard a flight home from the last training block of 2021

Thursday, 16 December 2021

The existential questions brought on probably by the abrupt upheaval of quotidian life in 2020, still buzz at the periphery of my consciousness. Maybe time, or confidence, or COP26, or dare I even consider it, my own maturity (!) have turned these questions, doubts, or on a more action-based level, the very thoughts that hinder me from pursuing my chosen vocation at full tilt with no consideration of, well, anything other than the end goal (the shiny gold thing we covet so much) into a half-formed thing. A thing which I can almost think about, without it scurrying back to the outer rim. (It seems this accidental Star Wars metaphor has unwittingly placed the cloak of goodness on the shoulders of my existential doubt, so consequently, my life, pursuits, whatever it is that is not existential angst is now the dark side? Oh dear).

In a critique of the cultural effects of the pandemic, Jacqueline Rose writes that ‘it becomes more and more obvious that endless growth and accumulation of wealth involves an exploitation of humans and resources that is destroying the planet.’ She references here, the pandemic, migrant lives lost ‘washed up on the shores of the so-called “developed” nations’, and finally the natural disasters caused by climate change ‘as if life on the planet had already reached the end of days.’ I do agree with this, of course I do; she only has to mention Jeff Bezos and Elon Musk’s space race for me to cringe at the putrid state of humanity. If I am to buy into her suggestion that the individual’s endless pursuit of greatness, or one-upmanship, or of snowballing nose-to-the-grindstone living is not a worthwhile endeavour, but a ‘sure sign of greed, panic and decay’, then what place does sport and my own pursuit of greatness, have in this dying world?

Hope springs eternal though; I feel almost satisfied that I’m finally providing solace to my existential clamouring by taking action! No, alas I must reign it in. Not quite action, but an acknowledgement by athletes that something is not right. Lo and behold, Dumbledore’s Army gathered together on a blustery November evening, a night to remember because I discovered I was not alone in these feelings of discontent. We’re not going to kill Voldemort though, unfortunately I don’t think we’re capable of such a task (indulge me in seeing Voldemort here as us: the evil planet-destroying-CO2-producing rich villains, and Dumbledore’s Army as the mean green solution). But I’m pleased for a couple of reasons. Firstly that I’m not alone, that’s always nice. Secondly, that I’m learning, and through learning, maybe I can discover exactly what balance I should strike between my absolutely unwavering passion for sailing and winning races with my role as a responsible earth dweller. I just hope it’s not too late I suppose.