My failed quest for a hobby

Maybe one day I'll knit sweaters, but I don't know if I'll ever have a hobby

In the shade of a mature tree on the side of his lawn, you’ll often see Earl, a man who lives on my street, whittling a piece of wood from his stately Muskoka chair, shaping and carving it to an artifact.

I’ve seen the bins in his garage with different sizes and shapes of untouched wood—sticks, branches, blocks—that will one day be shaped.

Earl has a hobby. I don’t.

It’s not for lack of trying. At the beginning of each year, Petra and I sit down in a coffee shop and cast vision for the year.

We set goals, we reminisce and it’s always such a boon to our lives, to our year. It helps us chart out a path for purpose in each area of life.

Each year I jot down three words that have yet to be fulfilled in the decade that we’ve been married: Find a hobby.

Those three words stare back at me right now. They are naked and alone on the list, with no check mark beside them.

What even is a hobby?

I googled “hobbies for men,” and must admit I had the same feeling one might get when they search the web about a health condition, afraid their strange symptom is the indicator of a terminal disease.

Is my toothache brain cancer? I don’t collect stamps, am I a failure as a human being?

Perhaps I romanticize what a hobby is.

I envision people sitting on handcrafted, three-legged stools to throw dark, wet clay which morphs under their patient hands as it spins on the potter’s wheel. Or other meticulous, dextrous activities performed with great skill by hands whose nimble movements produce quirks and wonders: origami, Lego sets, die cuts.

But I just don’t see myself in these brief visions, living up to the dictionary’s definition of an activity or interest pursued for pleasure or relaxation and not as a main occupation.

And I think this is my main problem, the mental glitch that keeps me from saying I have a hobby. Perhaps, even, a problem in our age.

Hobbies are Shopify-ed, monetized, side-hustled. Does anyone do anything just for fun anymore? Has every fun thing I imagine doing that has no clear path to a Shark Tank deal or viral social media following been ruined?

If an activity happens offline and no one's there to like it, does it make a hobby?

Rigour and leisure

Cal Newport might just be the guy to help me reframe the way I view a hobby. He makes a convincing case for high quality leisure activities in his book Digital Minimalism.¹

He petitions people to find vigorously analog activities that replace the mindless digital things we spend a lot of time doing: scrolling social media, picking up the phone when we get a notification, streaming content (often while we’re on another device, scrolling).

I walk a lot in nature. I read widely across genres. These activities are where I come closest to leisure. But they don't sound or feel like hobbies to me.

Newport also surfaces the concept of analog social media: activities “with interesting people and…things in the real world.”

I guess if I ever do find an activity that I can define as a hobby, it will be here: offline, tangible, perhaps with people.

Do you have a hobby? I'd love to hear what it is!

The ancient art of walking

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The joy of ancient friends

1. If you’re looking for a great read about navigating the world of screens, check this book out out. And here’s where I note that I’m testing out Amazon affiliate links. Purchases of the book and other Amazon-linked products here may generate a small commission to TIWD.