Apparently, it is no longer enough to just have a hobby. We must also be constantly improving and better than others at it. Or is that just my competitive side..? But seriously, how have we created a world in which doing something purely for the fun of it feels so rare? I feel like I am in a constant cycle of trying something new, not being immediately award-winning at it and promptly giving up. Because how could I possibly not be amazing at something that takes people years to perfect? We have allowed leisure to become yet another arena for us to demonstrate that we’re interesting, disciplined, and as good at life as we all wish to be.
The Performance of Pleasure.
Not to get all “it’s those damn phones” on you, but social media has changed how we approach ourselves and our interests. Hobbies are no longer simply things we do as we please but instead, are another part of our lives to curate and document in order to prove to others that you are successful and put together (no matter who saw you crying on the bus the other week…). Every hobby now seems to require equipment, or an app with a measurable goal, from how fast we run to how many books we have read in a month. It is as though an activity doesn’t quite count unless we have the data to prove it. Of course, hobbies have always involved a desire to improve; there is a genuine joy in having that feeling of achievement because you have progressed at something. But somewhere between tracking and progress and comparing ourselves to everyone else around us, we seem to have lost the pleasure of the process itself.
Confession Time!
I am, of course, just as guilty of this as anyone. Take running, for example. What began as a stupid and cheap way to exercise, clear my head, and convince myself that I enjoy cardio has somehow evolved into a battle with myself and statistics (I have always hated maths). Running makes me feel refreshed and pleased with myself because I actually managed to get out of the house, until I open the app and discover I was thirty seconds slower per kilometre than I was on Tuesday. Suddenly, the peaceful (if you count heart failure as peace) morning run has become a personal failure that I will have to rectify as soon as possible, so all 14 of my Strava followers know I am not regressing in my progress.
What We Are Losing!
The irony is, the very things that make our hobbies so beneficial to us are often the first casualties of this mindset. Hobbies allow us a space to switch off and be curious. They offer us the chance to make mistakes and just enjoy something without the usual pressure of everyday life. There is a type of freedom in being a beginner at something, in being bad and getting better slowly because you want to. But when every activity becomes a way to optimise ourselves and our lives, even our precious downtime starts to feel like work. Of course, progression and wanting to improve is natural, but perhaps we have become so focused on the destination that we forget to allow ourselves to get messy and embarrassing on the journey. Everything today is so centred on being and looking perfect that we forget to allow mishaps. If you ask me, I think this is why we are so addicted to our phones and social media, because when there is pressure to be good, we revert back to something we can ensure is easy and stimulating. I mean, who can be bad at swiping and consuming hours of 15-second videos?
The Art of Being Gloriously Average.
Perhaps it is finally time to reclaim the humble hobby and be unproductive about it. Go for a run without a tracking app, bake something that looks slightly unappealing or draw whatever is in front of you, even if a 4-year-old has done better. We don’t need to abandon our ambitions and positive goals; we might just simply need to remember that not everything we do has to lead to something extraordinary and rare. We are allowed to enjoy things we may not be good at, and we are allowed to continue practising them and enjoying them without ever getting better! After all, the greatest achievement might just be learning something for no reason other than being able to say, ‘it makes me happy’.