Learning to Fly
In 1987 David Gilmour of Pink Floyd wrote Learning to Fly, a track which was released on their album A Momentary Lapse of Reason.
Gilmour was actually learning to fly, but the song is has a deeper message and uses his flying experience as metaphor for dealing with new challenges. When writing Learning to Fly Gilmour understood that the process mirrored how we deal with changes in our life and work. You can hear the track and watch the video here (sorry about the ads at the start).
At the time, Gilmour was coping with the departure of Roger Waters from the band, and despite Waters’ view that Pink Floyd should disband, they decided to continue. He replaced Waters as the de-facto leader of Pink Floyd. The album ‘A Momentary Lapse of Reason’ resulted. He discusses the change here.
Learning to fly an aircraft is about control. You sit there surrounded by instruments, with new procedures to learn and responsibilities with significant consequences. It feels overwhelming, nothing feels instinctive. Every action requires effort, every decision carries doubt. The presence of an instructor is reassuring but you know that at some point you will have to do this on your own. Eventually you fly solo for the first time, an unforgettable experience where fears are replaced by confidence.
Learning to Fly captures the complex emotions of this transition. Gilmour speaks of himself as “tongue-tied and twisted, just an earth-bound misfit” indicating how he felt out of his depth both in the plane and as leader of the band. Liberation is at hand, competence develops from practice and skills are obtained which enable him to navigate the uncertainty. He learned to fly, the band continued to make music.
For many NHS doctors experiencing stress and uncertainty at work, the song’s themes of uncertainty, overload, and maybe eventual mastery are familiar. Whether in training or moving into senior roles, the experience of learning to fly is much like our clinical practice. Seniority involves moving from supervision to independent practice. Guidelines, protocols, and pathways are available, but patients often present not quite how guidelines suggest they should. Simultaneously we have to cope with workforce shortages, rota gaps, and time pressure. We become “tongue-tied and twisted” like Gilmour.
When we step into leadership roles, or have to adapt to the all too frequent organisational changes in the NHS, or if we have to navigate unfamiliar clinical pathways, it feels threatening. Like the trainee Pilot you feel surrounded by complexity without having the ability to manage it.
What Learning to Fly captures is transition. We are initially self-consciousness and afraid of making erros. This is understandable when mistakes often have serious consequences, but many NHS doctors operate in a state of fear for prolonged periods, the load is high and emotional support is thin. However, as in aviation, with time and exposure skills that once required intense concentration become second nature. There is a subtle change in mindset. Decision-making becomes easier. When we learn to engage positively with each new challenge we become fluent in change. We can manage increasingly complex cases, and provide leadership in healthcare despite increasing workforce challenges.
Embracing the challenge of change - Learning to Fly - is not about immunity to stress but about learning to cope with it. We start in ‘condition grounded but determined to try’. A pilot cannot eliminate turbulence but can learn to fly through it. Clinicians cannot avoid complexity but can engage with it effectively using their knowledge and judgment. Instead of being worried about making mistakes, we can instead aim to get things right by improving care, supporting colleagues, and shaping systems. We move beyond survival, work starts to feel meaningful again.
This may seem a very distant objective for NHS doctors working under intense strain. Chronic understaffing and increasing expectations from employers and the public cannot be resolved by individual resilience. Learning to fly is not enough, and structural change is essential.
However, there is value in recognising our growth. Each tough shift, and each challenging clinical case scenario, contributes to enhanced professional capability. The discomfort is not wasted as it builds the capacity to manage future challenges.
No pilot truly flies alone. They are supported by systems, teams, and safeguards. Healthcare is no different. We are supported by colleagues, by mentoring through our experiences and sharing values. By recognising that others are navigating the same airspace helps to reduce the feeling of isolation that many doctors experience.
Learning to Fly is a song about acknowledging the fear and instability of being out of our depth. It points towards mastery, not as a fixed endpoint, but as a process of growth. For doctors in todays NHS, the process is neither smooth nor guaranteed, but it is genuine and real.
The challenge, then, is not just to endure the turbulence, but to stay airborn long enough for confidence, competence, and perspective to develop. As Gilmour said, ‘there’s no sensation to compare with this’.
Staff who work hard in the NHS should be able to follow their dreams and aspirations. They should be able to Learn to Fly. If the concept of flying feels distant, I would love to talk to you.
The first step could be to book a free no obligation 30 minute on-line conversation with me here. If I am not the right Coach for you, I will recommend somebody else who will be.
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